Capo di Tutti Capi IV [Concluded]

[Secura]

vote: Erebus

[Double A]

[enclosed is a highly classified business document]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

vote: Erebus

[White_eyes:D]

Select: ATPG
Vote: Erebus

I know you hate me for this Erebus, but I do this out of love.

[Seon]

Love... for me!

[sturmhauke]

Thatssss a nice double lynch you have there. It would be a shame if sssssomething were to happen to it.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Tssssss....

I see someone's been playing Minecraft.

[Erebus]

Select: ATPG
Vote: Erebus

I know you hate me for this Erebus, but I do this out of love.

Why would I hate you? I think you misunderstand. I never TRIED to stay alive. The Mafia just keeps failing to kill me. There's a difference.

Yesterday my vote on myself was to have the ability to prevent the double lynch. I'd have willingly died to keep BillMc alive.

I'm happy, it's taken the mafia 3 phases to do what they promised in 1. Maybe with these delays the mafia can finally realized how bad an invincible Don ATPG is.

Vote: Erebus
I spit my last breath at thee.

[Niklas]

Erebus, you forgot to unvote.

Current tally: Erebus 18 vs Seon 9

[Askthepizzaguy]

I'm happy, it's taken the mafia 3 phases to do what they promised in 1. Maybe with these delays the mafia can finally realized how bad an invincible Don ATPG is.

Yes, if there's one thing I've been in this game, it's ineffective. You sure got me there.

[Erebus]

unvote; Vote: Erebus

[GeneralHankerchief]

Voting closed.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Please send your orders to issaikhaan ONLY. Do not send them to GH.

"And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy."
...Jabberwocky
...Lewis Carroll


8:37PM, Monday, 13 November 1951
The Executive Meeting Room (Small Ballroom)
Fatlington Convention Center
Fatlington, New Jersey




The Director looked on as they counted the votes. It seemed as though someone wouldn't be escaping their fate this time, as they had so many many times before. Erebus laughed as the name was called out. He was not afraid to die, being so close to his own death in the past made him feel quite comfortable with the idea. He was also half-expecting something to swoop in and save him at the last minute. The Director talked about fate and destiny, but Erebus believed that he was somehow protected by the gods. Something divine, far beyond luck, was shielding Erebus from the doom everyone had predicted for him in the past, and today would be no different. And if it was, at least he got to laugh death in the face.

The sky had been unusually cloudy, and the wind was blowing very cold. But as Erebus walked outside of the convention center flanked by Askthepizzaguy's goons, the clouds parted and moonlight poured down, seemingly a sign from heaven. The wind died off momentarily and things didn't seem so bad. The Director looked up at the sky, and looked over at the so-called arena. Erebus sensed his fortunes turning again. Then, a miracle happened.

"I think I've made a big mistake, Erebus. This whole 'arena of death' concept... it's not fitting for men of our stature. It's not particularly classy or civilized... it's nothing more than a roman colosseum where gladiators die as a spectator sport. I think I've had a change of heart; instead of being hung upside-down in a glass cage full of bees, or drowned in fine wine, or frozen in ice and promptly chopped into cubes, I think the time has come to stop all this bloodletting. I have something better in mind for you."

The Director snapped his fingers, and a limousine pulled up. The Director held Erebus at gunpoint and drove off without the rest of his entourage, leaving his goons and even the committee members behind. "Salvatore's Ristorante, driver." The Director looked at Erebus, studying him carefully. "My cousin Sal runs a restaurant. Only the finest food in all Fatlington, and it is authentic Italian food. You'll love it." Erebus looked back, a little uneasy about what was going to happen. They pulled up to a luxurious restaurant, complete with valet parking and the red carpet laid out for them. It was grand, possibly the most exquisite looking restaurant that Erebus had ever seen. "A little further. This isn't the place I had in mind." said the Director. They continued down several streets, and took a couple of turns down some rather shady-looking alleys. Finally they pulled into a tiny parking lot behind a dilapidated building, where a flickering neon sign read 'Sal's Ris----nte'. It seemed that Sal's was still open for business. The parking lot had a few stripped down vehicles in it, and none of them were in working condition. The Director led Erebus inside, even holding the door open for him. Inside, the place was poorly-lit and filled with cigar smoke. The floor was sticky and hadn't been swept. A burly looking man at the bar didn't even say hello as they entered, merely nodding at the Director while wiping a filthy glass with a dish rag. The swinging doors to the kitchen opened, and an enormous man in a greasy, blood-stained white undershirt came out. "Oh, hold on... I'll get youse guys a couple of menus" said the man. "Please, have a seat anywheres" said Sal.

Erebus looked at Sal, then at the Director, and wondered how on earth Sal was related to Santino. They seemed nothing alike. The Director looked particularly out of place here, wearing only the finest, immaculate white suit and red tie, with a white fedora. There was no way the Director would be able to keep his suit clean in a dump like this. They sat down at a booth which had used napkins and a basket of half-eaten stale breadsticks on it. The seat cushions each had enough crumbs on them to fill a shot glass. The booth was very uncomfortable, as the seats were too high and the table was too low; getting in and out of the booth was a chore and a half.

"What will youse be having?" said Sal, as he plopped hand-written menus down on the table in front of the guests. There were only 3 items on the menu, pasta 'preemavarra', 'chikin' alfredo, and steak. Erebus thought about it, and decided to pick the one item on the menu which was spelled correctly, hoping that Sal knew how to cook something he was at least familiar with spelling. The Director ordered the pasta preemavarra, while staring at Erebus with a stone-faced expression. "Excellent uh, choices... I'll gets right on making it for you" said Sal, as he waddled back to the kitchen, coughing the entire way. "I don't believe in butchers, I likes to save money by cutting out the middle man" he said.

They sat in silence for what seemed like half an hour. Erebus could swear he heard a cow mooing off in the distance, but about ten minutes in, the mooing stopped. Soon enough, Sal came back covered in a fresh coat of blood, wiping the blood off of his arms and face with an even filthier dish rag than before. "It will be ready in about five minutes. You guys need anything?" "I could use a strong drink" said Erebus, as he looked back at the bar, and saw the bartender giving one of the shot glasses a spit shine. "On second thought, maybe I'll pass." The Director continued to stare at Erebus, keeping his gun trained on the man. Sure enough, five minutes later, Sal came out of the kitchen holding two plates. One had the pasta 'preemavarra' and the other had a steak on it. He set down the plates in front of the two guests, and waited.

"Go ahead, take a bite" said the Director. Erebus looked at his plate and saw that the steak looked rather lonely, there were no side items. "Doesn't the steak come with anything?" asked Erebus. "Oh yeah, I forgots!" said Sal, reaching into the front pocket of his apron and pulling out a fist full of french fries, dumping them onto Erebus' plate unceremoniously. "Dinner is served, buon appetito!" said Sal. The Director looked at him coldly, until Sal remembered something else. "Oh right, the mood. Here you go, Santino" said Sal, as he placed a candle on the table and lit it. It was a rather sad display, sort of like putting a brand new set of hubcaps on an old wreck of a car; pointless and absurd.

Erebus pushed the french fries to one side, not intending to eat them, and looked at the steak again. He wasn't sure he wanted to take a bite of it, so he delayed the whole process by cutting the steak into smaller and smaller bites. Eventually the Director got impatient, and raised the gun. "It's considered rude to not even take a bite of a meal someone serves you" warned the Director. "I don't particularly care for impoliteness at the dinner table. Civility, mister Erebus... now take a bite."

Erebus looked at the steak and it seemed to at least have been cooked and it did smell okay. That said, he still took the bite with much trepidation. The steak was surprisingly good. Very good, in fact... Erebus' face lit up as he took another bite, and another.

"Surprising isn't it, Mister Erebus? In this place, in this part of town, with this atmosphere, it's the one thing you'd never expect. It's the absolute best steak in town, and I should know. Ever since I became a... businessman, I've been eating nothing but steak. Never could afford it before. I stayed away from Sal's place because I knew it was like this on the inside, but I never dreamed that the man actually knew how to cook. And I never would have known, if I hadn't bothered to try something unfamiliar and dangerous." Erebus just tuned out the Director. He never did care much for monologuing. He just kept eating the steak, greedily, voraciously. It was worth listening to the Director drone on and on, just to have the flavor of this succulent meat filling his senses.

Erebus ate the steak too fast, and began to choke. The Director just kept talking, about fate and destiny and choice, and seemed to be either oblivious or apathetic to Erebus choking on the meat. Erebus reached instinctively for a glass of water or whatever drink was served with the meal. Then he remembered he had actually turned down the offered drink because the glasses were filthy. What he wouldn't give for a filthy glass of cheap liquor right about now. He turned blue in the face, and began to panic. He tried to stand up but the booth was bolted down and very cramped.

"Is something wrong with your steak, mister Erebus?" asked the Director, just as he was beginning to pass out from the lack of oxygen. "You shouldn't eat it so fast. Even when you find yourself with the good fortune to enjoy the best steak you've ever tasted, always take slow and careful bites. Patience is a virtue I can see you are not fully acquainted with."

Erebus tried to give himself the Heimlich maneuver against the table itself, but was having trouble. "Do you need me to help you, mister Erebus?" asked the Director. Erebus nodded quickly, hoping to dislodge the meat in time. "I would, but there's this matter of your insulting my honor that is holding me back. I should do a favor for you, an impolite man? Why should I? That would be rewarding uncouth behavior. Civility, mister Erebus... always civility. But I will offer you something else. You see, I'm not very hungry. Here, you can share my pasta."

The Director slid the plate of pasta forward, just as Erebus keeled over dead from choking. Erebus landed face-first in the oily noodles, arms sprawled forward.

"And you should keep your elbows off the table. I guess your mother didn't teach you any manners at all." said the Director, as he tucked his gun back into his coat pocket. He left a generous tip for his cousin Sal, and wiped his suit clean with the entire supply of napkins that was on the table. Somehow, the Director made it out of there without a spot on him. Now that was truly a miracle...


OOC

Night Seventeen orders are due:


Please send your orders to issaikhaan ONLY. Do not send them to GH.


Lynch vote tally:

Erebus: 17 (lazy, jarema, sisterc, seon, krill, diana, nightbringer, xehh, ironside, beefy, diy, beskar, chaotix, secura, aa, white eyes, erebus)

Seon: 10 (niklas, backwards, renata, neri, bsmith, gibson, daveshack, winston, kennigit, hero)

Secura: 1 (TLD)

Abstained: 1 (GamezRule)

[Xehh II]

Hmmm, sorry to be a critic and all but I must say this is a pretty poor execution.

[Askthepizzaguy]

Hmmm, sorry to be a critic and all but I must say this is a pretty poor execution.

OOC
I expected such a reaction;

Some of the more memorable writeups of the best games I can remember were ones that didn't involve an overly elaborate gruesome death; such as ones where two lynchees were forced into a drinking contest until they died.

I've done the over-the-top gruesome deaths thing, the overly elaborate deaths thing, and the action movie deaths thing. Wanted to try my hand at something more subtle; reactions have been mixed. Some like it some don't, it's different.

Perhaps I should leave subtlety to GH and other masters of the understated death, and just focus on the spine-chilling ones. Feedback is welcome, these are meant for your enjoyment so by all means be a critic. It's better than laying stinkers and everyone just tolerating them.

[TheLastDays]

Hey guys, I think Pizza is scum.

[Askthepizzaguy]

Hey guys, I think Pizza is scum.

You commie traitor! I'll murder you for that.

[White_eyes:D]

If I get lynched make a lynch write-up of the Winnipeg Jets doing the deed. I would never complain about it if you did.

[Askthepizzaguy]

If I get lynched, make a lynch write-up of the Winnipeg Jets doing the honour.

I would never allow you to be lynched. You're my cuddle bear.

[GeneralHankerchief]

If I get lynched make a lynch write-up of the Winnipeg Jets doing the deed. I would never complain about it if you did.

I'd have to veto that one, the old Jets didn't come into existence until the 1970s.

[DaveShack]

He does host the anachronism hour, right?

Unfortunately the bad trip (which could get around the anachronism) has already been done once or twice, so that route is pretty much closed.

We haven't seen the good old concrete boots yet, perhaps a variation on that?

[Montmorency]

Just have the poor slip on some sunflower oil and fall in the path of an automobile. How about that, Pizza? It would suit your nature.

[seireikhaan]

I'm extending the round by four hours.

[Askthepizzaguy]

I'm extending the round by four hours.

I hope this doesn't mean like half the people sending in orders tonight just plain forgot. I'm hoping this is a game host needs more time kinda thing.

[seireikhaan]

It's more the latter than former.

[Askthepizzaguy]

It's more the latter than former.

I figured; it would be an abandonment of previous policy if it were the former; I could see that in perhaps a catastrophic nobody sent in orders kinda deal, which would be really bad, but otherwise it doesn't make sense.

[Erebus]

Worried about all your webs and plots going awry Mr. Pizza?

[Double A]

If nobody sent in orders, then that would include the doctors.

[sturmhauke]

Just have the poor slip on some sunflower oil and fall in the path of an automobile. How about that, Pizza? It would suit your nature.

Lynches should not involve accidental death. If it involves food or drink, there should be poison or razor blades or something. If it involves a car, there should be some method to ensure the lynchee doesn't randomly escape. And so forth.

[Montmorency]

Oh, it's not accidental in the least. One might call it fate, in fact.

[seireikhaan]

Anyways, yeah. No more orders. Few hours for processing.

[Sigurd]

I hope they come for you Cunio...