WW XXXX - The scouring of the Shire, vol.2

[Nogrod]

Year 1429 Shire reckoning.

The eve of the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Bywater.


The hobbits had enjoyed years of plenty ever since the Travellers had returned and the Shire had been scoured. The Shire had become once again what it had always been. There was now even something for a visitor from far away to come and marvel in awe: the only mallorn between the sea and the mountains stood at the Party Field already strong and proud even if it was quite a youngster as trees go.

All the evil that Sauron had created and nurtured had been washed away from Middle-Earth, the last of it exactly here in the Shire with the death of Saruman the fallen wizard. The evil magic had disappeared and only the lesser evil of men – that which could be explained rather as the absence of goodness than pure evil itself - remained.

Or was it so?

Well, not exactly...

Saruman thought he knew what he was talking before his violent death in front of the Bag End but Frodo was right in claiming that his powers had been stripped away from him. But that was not the whole story.

Gandalf did possess the authority and the strength to strip Saruman from his powers at the ruins of Isengard but even he couldn’t undo all the evil planted in to the soul of Saruman by Sauron at the height of his powers. Small shards of evil magic were indeed left and when Saruman’s soul gathered as a grey mist about his body and was finally blown away four little breaths of the original evil of Sauron remained and immediately took new hosts.

They were small bits of evil, remnants of a far more powerful Gaur-spell harboured and hosted by Saruman. It had been the plan of Sauron that if his enemy would manage to overpower Saruman his violent death would create an army of mighty werewolves that drew power from Saruman’s soul and Sauron’s own magic, taking as a matter the body of Saruman. But as Sauron had been defeated and Saruman had waned the little evil spirits were not powerful enough to form anything on their own. So they needed bodies for their malice. And there were plenty of hobbits around for them to choose.

It took ten years for them to grow and to overcome their hosts.

The night of the eve of the Battle of Bywater draw closer.

[Nogrod]

Dramatis personae:

Werewolves (4):
Each Night they choose a villager to kill. The werewolves may PM with each other during the Night phases. No PMing during the Day. One of the werewolves must PM the kill to me, preferably one hour before the deadline at least, so that the narration can be in time. The werewolves win when there are as many werewolves left as there are villagers – then they are just happy to devour the remaining villagers.

Seer (1):
Each Night chooses a person to dream of. The person’s role will be revealed to the seer. The seer PMs her/his dream choices to me each night. The seer is on the ordinary people’s side and wins if the werewolves are defeated.

Ranger (1):
Each Night the ranger chooses a person to protect. The chosen person can’t be killed by the werewolves that Night. The ranger plays on the ordinary people’s side and wins if the werewolves are defeated. The ranger can’t pick the same person to protect for two Nights in a row and cannot protect her/himself.

Ordinary Shirefolk (13):
Have the task of finding out the identities of the werewolves and lynching them. The ordinary Shirefolk win if the werewolves are defeated.



Miscellaneous Rules:

- The Days and the Nights last 24 hours.

- The deadline is 9 PM GMT.

- The roles will be revealed upon death.

- A double-lynch will take place when two persons have gained the same highest number of votes. Logically this makes it possible to also perform a triple-lynch or whatever number of lynchings on any given Day. It’s the duty of the Shirefolk to look after the reasonableness of the number of lynches.

- There are no retractable votes, so once you’ve voted, you can’t change it.

- There will be no clues about the identities of the players in the narrations. All unkonwn persons are referred to as a he in the narrations because that’s the traditional way of referring to an unknown (so no anti-feminist agenda here).

- The roles will be dealt with the cards and cards only so they are purely random.

- The dead players can’t post on the thread.

- No player can use PMs to verify anything they say.

- Editing is only allowed to correct spelling/grammar mistakes, to go back and bold/italicize something etc. or to mark cross-posts, so it’s not for changing the content of one’s posts.

- All players must be in the Invisible Mode.

- Players are forbidden to talk to each other about the game anywhere else but on the game thread. (And admin thread for off-game announcements.) Werewolves of course, make an exception.

- Absences etc. should be announced in the admin thread, which I hope all the players would check frequently.

- Players who fail to post or vote in two Days in a row will be removed from the game by modfire.

- The votes should be cast as follows:

++ Nogrod

(on a separate line, bolded, ++ in the beginning)


~*~

Players (19):

Thinlómien - Lommy Baggins
Legate of Amon Lanc - Legate Sackville-Baggins
Aganzir - Agan Sackville-Baggins
Meneltarmacil - Lupo Furryface
Volo - Justy Proudfoot
Macalaure - Mac Sandyman
The Might - Might of Greenholm
Mormegil - Mormegil Harrybelly
Feanor of the Peredhil - Belladonna Briarpatch
Brinniel - Brinn Burrows
Satansaloser2005 - Sally Shortbrush
Farael - Farael Twofoot
A Little Green - Lilla Greenhand
Nerwen - Nerwen Hornblower
Valier - Vallen FurryFoot
Kath - Kath Woodyend
Rikae - Rikae Took
Shastanis Althreduin - Shasta of the River
Kuruharan - Kuru Shrewthwacker

~*~

Please don’t post anything on this thread before Day1 starts. If you have something to say concerning the game, post it in the admin thread.

Night1 will start on November 28th, on 9pm GMT. The roles will be given out before that.

[Nogrod]

The Shire had been buzzing like a beehive all the day as the preparations for the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Bywater were taking place. There was no idle Baggins, Sackville-Baggins, Furryface, Proudfoot, Sandyman, Greenholm, Harrybelly, Briarpatch, Burrows, Shortbrush, Twofoot, Greenhand, Hornblower, Furryfoot, Woodyend, Took, River or a Shrewthwacker to be seen. Everyone was mending, bending, lending, repairing, faring, painting, hammering, screwing, carrying, following, crafting, planning, scanning, ramming, packing, folding, unfolding, whistling or just plain looking busy.

It would be a real party even on the Hobbit scale for it was a party commemorating the decennary of the freeing of the Shire or as it was called in the Red Book of Westmarch “The scouring of the Shire”.

All the pipeweed and ale that could be gathered from around the Shire had been stored to the newly renovated Green Dragon for the festivities and the few smaller fireworks by Gandalf found from a drawer in the Bag End were ready at the Party Field right beside the great mallorn. The flags had been hoisted and the festival stages put up. The stony roads had been polished and the grass cut, every garden was in a top shape and every window was cleaned. The mathoms were brought up from the cellars...

In the end the hobbits went to sleep waiting eagerly for the morning. So eagerly they waited for the festivities that many of them didn’t manage to fall asleep at first. But it was not only eagerness towards the jubilations that kept some of the hobbits awake...

Curious things were on the air.


~*~


The air was heavy to breathe and the darkness felt too animated even if it was basically quiet save the chirping of the crickets. A hobbit changed sides restlessly in his bed turning the sweat-stained pillow over.

Why can’t I just sleep?

The full moon stared through the window making the shadows stronger. The hobbit could see the room when he slightly opened his eyes. Everything seemed soft and fuzzy but at the same time all the things apeared to be more vivid. Like all the things in the moonlit room were dim and bright at the same time and those in the dark shadows were full of colour. It was a weird sight. And then there was the odd feeling all around his body.

What is this tingling? What’s going on?

The hobbit felt itchy and scratchy all over and finally gave in to his desire.

I have to scratch my back...

There his hand met the thick pelage.

The ex-hobbit rose up to sit in his bed shaking all over.

What is this?

Then he heard the inner voice calling him.

And he rose up.

After he had marvelled himself from the moonlit mirror for a moment he headed to the door and stepped outside silently as a shadow. He’d need to meet some others. The voice in his head told him so and that was what he had to do. That was what he now wished to do. That was now what he was.

So he was not the only one who had this kind of an experience that night.

They all met beside the mallorn when the moonlight was dimmed by the clouds.


~*~


A gentle breeze ran through Hobbitton. The four werewolves who had gathered around the mallorn sensed it clearly and shivered. That was a bad omen to them.

---
A hobbit in a cosy hobbithole stood up violently from his bed and hardly managed not to scream. There had been something in the room. Or was it a thing at all? It had been an eerie presence which had disturbed him when he had just been falling asleep... There was something terrible in the Shire. He knew that now. Something evil. But the breeze was not evil.

He had been just thinking about a certain neighbour at the time and now he saw clearly. Like he was seeing through the mind of that other Hobbit. He laid back down slowly wondering what this all was about.

---
Another hobbit was deep in sleep when he awoke to the faint breeze. He felt something calling him, calling him to arm himself and if in need to call for the sky to help him. But it was not this night... not this night.

He was totally baffled. And as it felt futile to try and sleep anymore with all the questions going to and fro in his mind he rose up and made himself a cup of tea to think and rethink what was going on.


~*~

Night1 has fallen.

Wolves feel free to get your team working. Seer let me know your choice.
Others, sleep well until the morning...

See you in 24 hours!

[Nogrod]

The four werewolves greeted each other by grinning. They were in good spirits as they were finally free after the long years of imprisonment. They started walking slowly to the general direction of the Green Dragon looking for a suitable hobbithole to pick.

”Evil rules, brothers!”, said the Shard smiling cunningly as he hopped along the stonepath leading the bunch.

”Yeah, might makes right!”, added the Flame and winked his eye to the two others.

”Hey, aren’t we supposed to be the evil ones? So how can we make something right?”, asked the Breath in confusion.

”You mean... is our aim to do good then?”, asked the Drop not quite sure whether he had caught the point of what had been said.

”Of course not! Now drop it!”, snapped the Shard.

”C'mon, be fair brother”, defended the Drop while the others chuckled.

”That’s a good question. Can it be thought that an evil one could be fair? Or that he should?” the Breath asked the Drop giving him his widest grin.

”Wouldn’t it be ridiculous indeed if we all felt bad because we’re baddies?” continued the Flame trying to keep the discussion on track.

”Yeah, it kind of makes one wonder whether something’s wrong if you feel bad after killing a lousy hobbit...” the Breath thought out aloud.

”But we should do the wrong thing, right? So if we feel good when we do bad things that’s right. Otherwise we would be doing wrong – if we felt bad I mean. Simple as that.”, said the Shard now clearly annoyed.

”So which one do you mean exactly? You’re contradicting yourself... wrong is right... good is bad...”, murmured the Drop sounding a bit offended.

”Okay. Let me think this Shard. If something you do is right then it can’t be wrong at the same time. And now you say that if we feel good when we do bad things and that’s right. But if that’s the right thing to do then it follows that we shouldn’t do it because evil persons are wrong-doers”, continued the Flame trying to figure out himself at the same time what it exactly meant he was saying.

”Let’s drop this futile discussion. We have things to do!”, the Shard remainded.

”Yeah, let’s play football with someone. I’m quite good at it”, Said the Breath optimistically.

”Now don’t you start it again!”, snapped the Drop.

~*~

The werewolves reached Noggie Boffin’s hobbithole and dragged the poor hobbit out. The hobbit was frozen from panic.

”Catch the pass!”, shouted the Breath as he cut Noggie’s head with one sharp move of his claws and volleyed the falling skull before it reached the ground.

”I’ll take it, I’ll take it!”, yelled the Shard as he backstepped for a perfect header.

”This torso would make a decent goalie as hobbits go. I’ll place it to the doorway.”, the Drop explained as he settled Noggie’s headless body in the middle of the bloodstained doorway.

“Let’s see who scores!”, the Breath put in before he received the Shard’s header with his chest and passed it to the Flame with his knee.

”Watch out!”, called the flame who caught the Breath’s pass and hammered the head in from the open door with a blasting shot that blew the “goalie” with it deep inside the hobbithole.

”Gooooool!”, yelled the Breath.

”No rebounds for the defence!”, chuckled the Shard.

”Funny... I feel a strong urge to take my shirt off and run around... sadly I don’t have one”, the Flame wondered mostly to himself.

”Okay lads. One more thing...”, the Drop said mysteriously and went inside the hole. He came back soon with a can of white paint.

He made a few marks on the bloodied doorway and looked at the other wolves. They all nodded to each other and then outright laughed. They retired back to their holes in good moods... or were they bad moods after all?

~*~

The hobbits woke up after a Night of uneasy sleep but their hearts were full of anticipation. It would be the Day they had all waited for. Time to have a real celebration which meant good company, a feast of food, ale and puffing the pipe; song and dance, flirting and joking and finally some fireworks.

Gathering to the Party Field to assign the last preparatory tasks for everyone they realised that Noggie Boffin was missing. The consensus was that he had overslept. It wasn’t the first time.

The hobbits walked to his house to wake him up with a bucket of very cold water. It was a shock to to see the bloody ground and a trampled garden. The door was off the hinges and this was what was written to the wall beside it.






~*~

The dead:
Nogrod (mod) - Noggie Boffin - beheaded and played soccer with on Night1

The living:
Thinlómien - Lommy Baggins
Legate of Amon Lanc - Legate Sackville-Baggins
Aganzir - Agan Sackville-Baggins
Meneltarmacil - Lupo Furryface
Volo - Justy Proudfoot
Macalaure - Mac Sandyman
The Might - Might of Greenholm
Mormegil - Mormegil Harrybelly
Feanor of the Peredhil - Belladonna Briarpatch
Brinniel - Brinn Burrows
Satansaloser2005 - Sally Shortbrush
Farael – Farael Twofoot
A Little Green - Lilla Greenhand
Nerwen - Nerwen Hornblower
Valier - Vallen FurryFoot
Kath – Kath Woodyend
Rikae – Rikae Took
Shastanis Althreduin – Shasta of the River
Kuruharan -Kuru Shrewthwacker


Day1 dawns.

You are welcome to start the discussion. Have fun!

[Volo]

Urgh... That was grotesque.

What was the Ranger thinking last Night, really, drinking tea. Wasn't it mighty obvious that if the calling came then one of us would die. And wasn't it even more mightily obvious that poor ol' Noggie would be the one to die. After all, he was the wisest of us all and had the ability to see the evildoers with only one glance. Not a good start, wouldn't you think? Lazy Rangers shouldn't be allowed to live in our proud village. Drinking tea in the middle of the night, phew...

[Macalaure]

My dear Bagginses and Greenholms, and my dear Tooks and Shortbrushes, and Briarpatches, and Shrewthwackers, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Greenhands, Furryfaces, Harrybellies, Woodyends, and Furryfoots...

"FurryFeet!"

Furryfeet. Also my good Sackville-Bagginses, *looks at notes* Proudfeet, Twofeet, and Rivers.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I trust seventy-eight percent of you half as well as you deserve.

Both of which is more than sad. And worse, four among the eighteen of you would indeed deserve even much more of my distrust!

And we shall see who those will turn out to be...