Mafia VII Summary

Lllllllladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, junior members to admins, we here at MafiaCo® proudly present the latest installment in the epic, long-running Mafia series, the Greatest Show in the Gameroom, Mafia VII!!! :horn: :rifle: :argue: :soapbox: https://img258.imageshack.us/img258/...ndwagonqr2.gif :hanged: :smg: :holmes: :gossip: :drama3: :hanged: :smash: :balloon: :balloon2: :balloon3: :logic: :medievalcheers:

While we wait for Seamus's family situation to be resolved (best of luck, mate, we're all pulling for your dad), I hope that my game will serve as a more-than-adequate substitute. This kind of setup was the first Mafia game ever on the .Org and I like it the way it is now, so it will stay simple. There have been some classics from this series already and I hope that this one will go down as the best of 'em all.

Background: That wonderful Kingdom of Peace and Love, the Frontroom, is under attack by the Mafia, who have infiltrated two of their members into the town. Why is this town so important to the Mafia? Who knows? If it is why don't they send more people than just two untested rookies? Who cares? The townies are not without hope, however, for they can invoke the power of democracy and lynch one of their own every day, and they also have a Detective dilligently working to find the identity of these two perps. Will the Frontroom be saved? Only time will tell...

Setup: 2 mafiosi, one Detective. No other roles of any kind. Two townies die per night, which means that if the mafia's numbers are down to one there's no way you'll know. The Detective can reveal at any time so long as he is alive.

Voting procedure: Each "day" phase, you will be putting up someone to lynch, someone who you think is guilty. The proper procedure for doing this is the following:

Vote: GeneralHankerchief

If you wish to change your vote, do so as described below:

Unvote: Reenk Roink
Vote: GeneralHankerchief

Any votes not in this form are not guaranteed to show up. Also, I highly dislike the following:

Unvote

...without any name coming after. This annoys me greatly and you should not do this. If this is rampant I'll remind you in the thread and if it continues enough there will be WoGs.

Finally, you may abstain. Any post in a round not accompanied by a vote counts as an abstention. However, you may not vote No Lynch.

Rules: The dead can and are encouraged to talk, but not vote. They can also not reveal any sensitive information they may have learned while they were alive.

No screenshots. Of anything. Period. I don't care whether it has to do anything with this thread or not.

However, you are allowed to quote PMs, whether fake or real.

The Detective may NOT reveal in private to anyone at any time. If he is to reveal then he must do so publicly. Once he had publicly revealed then he can PM people with further information at his leisure. Failure to abide by this rule, even if you're faking, will result in an immediate WoG and a lifetime ban from my future Mafia games.

The realism system (check the two most recent of my big games) is once again in place.

Inactivity will be dealt with, as is customary, by Wrath of God. There is no time period set in stone; all cases will be judged individually. If you were Wogged then all above rules regarding the dead apply. If you were Wogged and had a role then it may or may not be reassigned, depending on how far along we are.

I, as the host, have the powers of God in this game and am infalliable (however, feel free to correct me on voting tallies). Therefore, I reserve the right to change these rules at a whim depending on what I feel is best for the game. Don't worry, I've hosted quite a few big games in my time and I know what I'm doing.

Finally, the most important rule of all: HAVE FUN!!! :yes:

I'll keep the sign-ups open for a few days. Post here if you want to play, and feel free to PM other people about this game. Andres, would you mind putting something in the Capo thread directing them here? Thanks.

Signed up: (39) (Sign-ups closed, apologies to all.)
Caius Flaminius
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
pevergreen
Brave_Sir_Robin
Beefy187
Sarathos
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
Husar
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Don Corleone
Fragony
Byzantine Mercenary
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

And we're off! :horn: If you didn't receive a PM, you're just a townie, sorry. :sorry:

Here is the first status list:

Still alive: (39)
Caius Flaminius
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
pevergreen
Brave_Sir_Robin
Beefy187
Sarathos
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
Husar
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Don Corleone
Fragony
Byzantine Mercenary
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

PMs please.

:drama3:

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Vivid smells permeated the sleepy little town. There was the pleasant aroma of freshly-mown grass, dough being molded at the local bakery, and of course, the somewhat unpleasant scent of an old truck puffing through town. However, all evened out, for the truck was delivering a substance with a most wonderful smell: chocolate.

pevergreen woke up, jarred awake from the rather strong aroma filling his nostrils. "Chocolate!" he said in delight. He sniffed again. "And it's coming from my doorstep! What a great day to begin my morning!"

He followed his nose to his doorstep, all thoughts of having a proper breakfast gone. Instead he took one look at the package (sent by one "Mr. Arlan Frederick Ivanovich Ace"), tore it open, and dug in.

He didn't even bother to check the flavorings of the chocolate or admire the lovely packaging job that the chocolates had. Instead, he just kept stuffing his face, for pever was something of a pig and he loved chocolate.

"Mmph... argm grum oolp... bruh?" His eyes widened in surprise. After the twelfth chocolate he suddenly realized that he wasn't feeling that well, and it didn't come from choking or indigestion either. This was something more sinister, much more sinister... this was poison!

"Help!" he tried to scream but since his mouth was stuffed so full of chocolates nothing came out. Reluctantly he spat all of them out (what a waste that was) and tried again, but alas, too much time had elapsed. The poison had already taken its deadly toll and pever could do no more. He slumped to the ground, dead. The mafia had claimed its first victim.

Meanwhile, simultaneously, at around the same time, Sigurd Fafnesbane was also on his doorstep, about to walk out onto his lawn to get the newspaper. He noticed a patch of odd, brown, dead leaves on the lawn that had clearly not been there yesterday.

"That's odd," he said. "I had better get those raked tod-AYYYYY!" He realized with a swooping sensation that the leaves had served a purpose aside from being annoying: they covered up a pit, a pit that Sigurd had just fallen into.

He tried to climb out, but it was just deep enough where he couldn't. Sigurd groaned. It was probably some stupid kids, deciding to play a prank on him. When (if?) they ever showed up to let them out he would have words for them, that's for sure. He would teach them to mess with the power of the BESRKR.

After some time had elapsed, he heard a noise, a kind of scratchy sound as if someone was cutting through jungle foliage. It began to grow louder, as if it was getting closer to him. Finally, his view of the sun suddenly blocked, he looked up.

A wild man with long, unkempt hair and beard, a dirty face, and a grass skirt stared back at him for a minute. Then he grinned foolishly and started hooting.

"I did it I did it I did it" he shouted, now dancing around the pit. "I caught my first victim I caught my first victim I caught my first victim Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Ook!"

Sigurd only looked up in amazement. "Look kid, this isn't funny. Does your mother know you're dressed up as a savage this early in the morning? Let me out now and maybe I won't tell her about this."

But the hunter just laughed hysterically. "Mother? Prank? What are you talking about, man? This is real!"

And Sigurd realized in one fell swoop that it was indeed real. It probably had something to do with the fact that the hunter had taken out several long, point spears and began to throw them, one by one, into the pit. Eventually the deed was done, and the last thing that Sigurd ever heard was the wild man hooting triumphantly.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered all of the villagers in the town square. Most people were curious as to this announcement, as they were quite rare in the Frontroom. Indeed, the Chief had never had to do this before. Ever.

"Gentlemen," he began, making a brief pause for dramatic effect, "It is my sad duty to inform you that there have been two brutal murders in our peaceful little village today. pevergreen fell victim to chocolate poisoning and Sigurd Fafnesbane was lured into a trap - literally - and was subsequently speared to death. It is our duty to avenge these murders.

"Now, ordinarily the police would be involved, but we have reason to believe that these kills were the work of an insider." Everybody gasped. Who could do such a thing? "I believe that you know your fellow townies best; you know who has the motive to do such a thing. Therefore, we shall take a vote on who murdered poor pever and Sigurd. The person with the most votes shall be hanged for all to see."

Everyone looked tense. Nobody wanted to lynch anybody, but nobody wanted further murders either.

"Begin voting," Beirut said with a grim expression.

Townies, now is your time. Please vote for who you think killed pevergreen and Sigurd Fafnesbane. The person with the most votes at the end of the voting round will be lynched.

***Note*** This will be an extra-long voting round, because I will not have access to my computer until tomorrow evening EST.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (37)
Caius Flaminius
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Brave_Sir_Robin
Beefy187
Sarathos
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
Husar
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Fragony
Byzantine Mercenary
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane

The Frontroom's town square was a rowdy place. It really wasn't large enough to handle thirty-seven villagers, the voting box, the Chief of Police, and the gallows in which the condemned person would be hanged. As a result, the lack of space got on everyone's nerves, prompting them to get nastier, testier, rowdier, and generally more unsavory.

Finally, at sunset, Chief of Police Beirut blew his whistle to signal quiet. And then, after a few seconds, he blew it again. And then again. And then again. Finally, annoyed with the crowd's lack of obedience, he fired his pistol in the air. That, finally, got everyone's attention.

"Gentlemen," he began, "the votes have been" - he breathed a sigh of relief, for it was a harrowing process - "counted. You have determined Sarathos to be guilty of murder. The sentence will now be carried out."

Sarathos, the condemned, instantly turned pale and gasped.

"All I was doing was engaging in some self-depriciating humor!" he sputtered. "You guys totally misconstrued my statement! All I w-want to do is hang back out of sight and chill! What's so wrong with that?"

The townies simply glared. They had made their choice. They cared little for final speeches. Beirut, however, seemed to have no such problem.

"Sarathos, you will now be hanged. Have you any last words before your sentence is carried out?"

Sarathos paused, taken back. "Well, uhm... I kind of did already... er..." Beirut was busy attaching the rope to his neck... "...uh, well..." He was finished, about ready to do the deed... "Lurker Pride!" Sarathos gasped out right before he dropped.

"Well, that's that," Beirut said as the town stared in shock at the simplicity of it. "I suggest you all go home and pray that you got the right man. Hopefully we won't be seeing each other tomorrow. Good night."

Voting tally for Round 1:

Sarathos: 7 (Warmaster Horus, shlin28, Husar, sapi, Pannonian, Byzantine Mercenary, Lemur) :skull:
Andres: 3 (woad&fangs, Ichigo, Don Corleone)
Husar: 2 (Sasaki Kojiro, Kommodus)
Ichigo: 2 (Destroyer of Hope, Sarathos)
Don Corleone: 2 (Andres, Kagemusha)
Sasaki Kojiro: 2 (Tiberius of the Drake, Xiahou)
woad&fangs: 1 (greaterkhaan)
Pannonian: 1 (RoadKill)
Xiahou: 1 (Xdeathfire)
greaterkhaan: 1 (Stig)
FesterShinetop: 1 (Crazed Rabbit)

Abstained: 8 (Caius Flaminius, Twilightblade, Brave_Sir_Robin, Beefy187, Dutch_guy, Proletariat, Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien)
Didn't vote: 7 (Ignoramus, Tran, Killfr3nzy, FesterShinetop, discovery1, CountArach, Fragony)

- In case my tally doesn't match up with yours, I do count a post without a vote as an abstention. I think the lynch is pretty clear-cut but if I made a mistake let me know (preferably publicly so we can clear it up quicker).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (36)
Caius Flaminius
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Brave_Sir_Robin
Beefy187
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
Husar
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Fragony
Byzantine Mercenary
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane

Executed:
Sarathos

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Most people had barely gotten any sleep the previous night and were afraid to leave their houses.

Caius Flaminius, however, was not one of these people. He confidently strode out the front door, off the porch, and out into his front yard to pick up the morning's paper. He knew about Sigurd's untimely demise from it a day earlier, but feared nothing. Surely the mafia would not kill two people in the same way, right? And even if they did, he made sure to walk on the sidewalk, ignoring all patches of leaves on his lawn.

"Hmm," he said to himself, examining his yard, "That could be a potential trap... I've got to get this trimmed... I wonder who won that match last night... I wonder if there's anyone hiding in that bush... There's another trap, right there... stupid mafia, they're getting slopp-YAAAAAAAAGH!!!"

Caius had fallen into the same trap that had nailed Sigurd Fafnesbane before, although it had a slight modification. Instead of dropping him into a pit (which would have been mighty hard to dig, especially it being under the sidewalk and the town getting little sleep), it swung him upwards. He was now hanging upside down, by his ankle, near a streetlight. He groaned. He had fallen victim to a noose trap.

He leaned upward (downward?) in order to try to prevent the blood rushing from his head, but quickly reverted back to normal; someone was coming out of the bushes.

He was very oddly-dressed. Clad only in a grass skirt, this person that had set up the trap was poorly-groomed. He had long, unkempt hair and a similar beard. Judging by the dirt on his face, he had not bathed in days.

"What do you want?" asked Caius. Surely this person couldn't be the mafia; they were professional, wearing Italian suits and driving fancy cars. Right?

"I want to kill you," said the ragged man. He took out an obsidian knife and proceeded to do what he said he wanted to.

The Frontroom Bakery, like any respectable establishment selling delicious baked food, was open at dawn, already churning out various pastries to be sold throughout the course of the day. It came as no surprise to the baker that he got a customer this early on; work hours were pretty weird nowadays.

"Work hours are pretty weird nowadays," said the man who just entered the shop. His face was obscured but the baker thought nothing of it. "I'll have a bismarck please."

The baker gave the man a bismarck donut, and after he received his pay went into the back room to check on the incoming pastries, leaving the customer with his own thoughts (and of course, the donut).

"Stupid townies," the man said to himself as he began munching his donut and took out his phone. "They lynch a man just because he said 'lurker pride.'" He eyed his phone, checking for something. "No messages," he said. Of course there weren't. Of course there wouldn't be. Him checking his phone was more out of habit now than anything else.

His thoughts strayed back to the townspeople of the Frontroom. "What a bunch of morons. Especially this baker. You'd think he'd be more careful with his treats after someone got killed by poisoned chocolate yesterday." He took out a vial of poison and started spreading its contents out on the 12 most delicious-looking items in the place. Smiling, he departed, munching on the rest of his donut.

Five minutes later, Killfr3nzy walked in, whistling a jaunty tune. "Work hours are pretty weird nowadays," he said to the baker, who had returned to the front of his store. The baker nodded, a strange look in his eye.

Killfr3nzy eyed the treats currently on display. "I'll take that one," he said, pointing at one of the most delicious-looking items in the place. After he paid, he took a seat with his pastry, smiling.

"Even if I die, the mafia can't deprive me of the satisfaction knowing I've enjoyed a tasty treat early in the morning," he said, smiling, as he took a bite. After a few seconds, he realized exactly how wrong he was.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered everyone in the town square to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, "It seems as if we were off in yesterday's lynching. Two more villagers have been found dead today. Caius Flaminius stabbed to death, and Killfr3nzy poisoned, in the bakery, a half-eaten baked good beside him."

The crowd, instead of showing shock, simply stood there in silence, puzzled. Finally, one villager shouted out what the crowd was thinking. "If he was found dead in the bakery, with the poisoned baked good nearby, how come we're still doing this? Doesn't that mean the baker's guilty?"

"Yeah!" everyone roared in agreement.

"Well, uhm..." Beirut was taken aback. "As Chief of Police I have already, uh, determined the baker to be innocent. So it's still one of you normal villagers. Get voting!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (34)
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Sasaki Kojiro
Brave_Sir_Robin
Beefy187
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
Husar
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Fragony
Byzantine Mercenary
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy

Executed:
Sarathos

It was, by all means, a strange afternoon. In this second round of voting Chief of Police Beirut witnessed several ploys, bandwagons, counter-bandwagons, anti-bandwagons, a fake epiphany, and a man saying that he had no grudge against anyone while screaming and cursing. And there was the matter of the two gruesome kills earlier in the day.

But now was his favorite part of the day. Finally he could get it all over with with a nice, easy, lynching. He trusted the town's acumen; it's why he allowed the democratic system to prop up in the first place. Surely they would smoke out the mafia, and quickly too. As of Day Two, Beirut radiated confidence.

"Gentlemen," he said to the assembled crowd, "You have hereby determined that Husar is guilty of murder. Husar, before you are executed, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Husar stepped up to the gallows. His hair looked moderately scraggly and his whole persona looked pale. However, his appearance did not match up with his demeanor, which still approached cheerful.

"Not really. Good luck guys," he said with a grin. "See some of you soon, eh?"

"I hope not," said Beirut. He pulled the lever and that was that. "Well," he said, this time to everyone, "Hopefully you got the right man this time. Let's all go home and sleep this one off. Perhaps tomorrow we'll all get back to normal."

The townspeople departed, and that concluded a strange day indeed.

Voting tally for Round 2:

Husar: 9 (woad&fangs, Ichigo, Sasaki Kojiro, sapi, Proletariat, Kommodus, Andres, Don Corleone, Kagemusha) :skull:
Sasaki Kojiro: 6 (Warmaster Horus, shlin28, Stig, Dutch_guy, Xiahou, Lemur)
Andres: 2 (Beefy187, discovery1)
FesterShinetop: 2 (Crazed Rabbit, Tiberius of the Drake)
Tran: 2 (Destroyer of Hope, Brave_Sir_Robin)
Stig: 1 (CountArach)
Dutch_guy: 1 (greaterkhaan)
Kommodus: 1 (Tran)

Abstained: 5 (Twilightblade, Husar, Pannonian, Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien, Byzantine Mercenary)
Didn't vote: 5 (Ignoramus, RoadKill, Xdeathfire, FesterShinetop, Fragony)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (33)
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Sasaki Kojiro
Brave_Sir_Robin
Beefy187
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Fragony
Byzantine Mercenary
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Despite the fact that four people had been killed in the past two days, life still went on for most of the townspeople. They, like their Chief of Police, were confident that the scum would eventually be smoked out.

Sasaki Kojiro was one of these people. After surviving two lynchings by the skin of his teeth and thoroughly annoying several townspeople he decided to go blow off some steam by seeing a film at the local cinema. It would be a comedy, of course, something to take his mind off of the horrible events that were taking place.

After buying his ticket, popcorn, and entering the theater, Sasaki realized that he wasn't the only person with this idea. A lone figure was sitting in the back of the theater, taking the picture in quietly. Sasaki nodded at the figure and took a seat closer to the middle.

Several minutes elapsed. In between his munches of popcorn he caught snatches of a voice that didn't come from the screen. Interested, he stopped eating and listened intently.

"...stupid townies, so violent yesterday, and they'll only get worse... fools..."

Sasaki froze. Surely only one type of person would talk like that. He turned around, getting a closer look at the figure. He gasped. The face, while somewhat shrouded by the darkness of the theater, still held the characteristics of the man known as Mr. Arlan Frederick Ivanovich Ace. He had to be the mafioso.

...but if he was the mafioso, well... one of them was known for poisoning his victims... and there he was... sitting with a half-eaten bag of popcorn...

He screamed, knowing his time was limited, and ran out of the theater. He had to tell the Chief of Police what he saw.

The mafioso stood up and calmly shot him in the back six times. After that he reloaded and shot him six more times, just to make sure that Sasaki The Infalliable was truly, in fact, dead. He shook his head and sat back down.

"Poisoned popcorn, I never would have thought of that. Poor fool..."

After a short pause, he made his way to Sasaki's seat and began munching on the perfectly untainted popcorn. It was delicious.

At around the same time, Byzantine Mercenary's doorbell rang. After a minute's deliberation, he decided to answer the door and see who it was. Greeting him was the mailman, although he had never seen this one before. This one was clean-shaven with short, cropped hair.

"The other one probably just fled after the first killings," Byz said to himself reassuringly. "He looks enough like a mailman." To said mailman, he said "What can I do for you?" in a louder voice.

The mailman simply smiled. "Day's mail, as always," he said. "Enjoy." He tipped his hat and exited after handing Byz the day's mail.

Byz put the mail on his kitchen table and started sorting through it. "Hmm... junk, junk, bills, junk, insurance pamphlet (wow, that's surprising, guess they haven't heard of the killings yet), bills, postcard from Seamus (man, he picked a lucky time to go on vacation), hmm, what's this?" A small package was the last thing to be sorted.

"Acme Products," Byz said, reading the name off the package. "Hmm, never heard of 'em." He opened it anyway, surprised at what he saw. Inside was what claimed to be a free sample of a new, no-fuss cleaning product that was guaranteed to hook you. There were two plastic bottles, one with bleach and ammonia.

"And all I'm supposed to do is mix them together, eh?" Byz looked around. His house was a mess. "Well," he said, "I guess we'll see just how 'no-fuss' it is after all." He coughed and mixed the two bottles together. A few seconds later, he collapsed.

Ten minutes later, the mailman again walked up to the door, but this time he went right in without ringing the doorbell (after, of course, making sure his gas max was properly attached). After making his way into the kitchen and seeing the ugly corpse, he smiled and walked back out of the house.

"Fool," he said. "Who doesn't know that bleach and ammonia make chlorine?"

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered all of the villagers into the town square to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, "Obviously you all know why we're gathered here today."

"You're going to announce the headline performer for this year's Town Fair?"

Beirut groaned, pulled out his gun, and shot the villager who spoke out of turn. "Trust me," he said to the gasping townies, "If that comment was any indicator the mafia would have overwhelmed him pretty easily. As I was saying, we are here today because the mafia are still at large. So that means we need to lynch another person. Because I like to spice things up a bit, the person you find guilty tonight will die via the electric chair. So, make sure you get the right person. I've heard too many reports of these things not working well and I wouldn't want anyone but a mafioso to experience all that electricity running through them but not killing them.

"Anyway, I'm done monologuing. Get voting!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (31)
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Brave_Sir_Robin
Beefy187
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Fragony
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar

~~~~~~~~

Due to US Labor Day, voting will probably go on a bit longer than usual.

This is a SUMMARY THREAD. WRITE-UPS ONLY.

As requested by the game host: re-opened.

ONLY GENERALHANKERCHIEF IS ALLOWED TO POST IN THIS THREAD FROM NOW ON.

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Sunset, normally a beautiful time of day, was turning into the Frontroom's Witching Hour. The usually well-behaved townspeople got out their torches and pitchforks and started screaming for blood. In their defense, that sort of thing can happen when two of your number get brutally murdered every day and you have to endure several hours of accusations that you're a bloody murderer, but they were still unreasonably bloodthirsty.

The target of most of their hatred this time around was the unfortunate Beefy187. The beef against Beefy was that he, normally a quiet, reserved villager, had taken too much of an active role after the killings. Perhaps it was mafia behavior, taking an active role in order to mislead the poor villagers. Whether it was that or not, enough people believed that it was and thus the whole point was moot. Beefy would die.

After the outcome was determined to be inevitable, Chief of Police Beirut called an end to the voting in order to make his final announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, "You have hereby found Beefy187 guilty of murder. His sentence - death by electric chair - will be carried out immediately. Beefy, have you any last words?"

Utterly dejected, Beefy shuffled up to the execution platform. After taking a deep breath, he spoke his final words in a monotone. "You know, if you keep killing these active townies just because they're active that's gonna get you in trouble real fast. Think on that for a bit."

The crowd didn't like being lectured, especially not be a condemned man. They booed and hissed, and a tomato seemed to come out of nowhere to hit Beefy in the face. The crowd cheered at that and more tomatoes began to find their target.

Beefy, his face a mess, had enough. He ran to the electric chair and strapped himself in. "Throw the switch already!"

Beirut complied, and that was that.

"All right," he said to the crowd. "Go home, people. And no more tomatoes! We're here to lynch people, not humiliate them! If we find ourselves here tomorrow, remember that."

The townies, somewhat embarassed, shuffled home.

Voting tally for Round 3:

Beefy187: 9 (Twilightblade, Beefy187, Stig, sapi, Proletariat, Crazed Rabbit, Pannonian, CountArach, Xiahou) :skull:
Andres: 4 (woad&fangs, Ichigo, discovery1, Don Corleone)
Ichigo: 3 (Tiberius of the Drake, Andres, Lemur)
Lemur: 2 (RoadKill, shlin28)
Dutch_guy: 1 (greaterkhaan)
CountArach: 1 (Xdeathfire)
shlin28: 1 (Brave_Sir_Robin)
Twilightblade: 1 (Warmaster Horus)
Don Corleone: 1 (Kagemusha)

Abstained: 1 (Dutch_guy)
Didn't vote: 7 (Ignoramus, Tran, Destroyer of Hope, Kommodus, FesterShinetop, Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien, Fragony)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (30)
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Xdeathfire
Twilightblade
Brave_Sir_Robin
Warmaster Horus
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Fragony
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Contrasting with the horrible events, it was a beautful September day outside, and several inhabitants of the town even decided to take advantage of it, two of them even meeting for an inpromptu picnic.

Warmaster Horus was one of those two people, arriving first. He had just set the mat down and was in the process of spraying the grass around him with some bug spray. This picnic would be one without ants.

"Wish they had some anti-Mafia spray," he thought to himself and chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

Warmaster Horus looked up and gasped in surprise. It was one of his best friends in the entire Frontroom, joining him! "Take a seat," he said. "I see you brought your own food."

"I've learned not to trust foreign food in the past couple of days," said the friend. "Even if there was no mafia around, I still wouldn't trust the art of sandwich-making to anyone but myself. Come on, let's eat."

The two sat down and chatted, and that was all that happened for a while. But when Horus had his back turned to re-spray the ground (the anti-ant solution was proving ineffective) something far more sinister occurred: His "friend" put of couple of drops of a foreign liquid in Horus's drink.

"'scuse me," Horus said not five minutes later. His "friend" chuckled knowingly. Horus headed straight for a conveniently-located outhouse, one of the white, plastic, "port-a-potty" models that is so common at fairs and outside concerts. Once he shut the door, the mafioso sprang up and made his move.

"Duct tape solves anything," he said with an evil grin as he began taping the port-a-potty's door shut. Then he waited.

Two minutes later (was there reading material in there?) the mafioso heard the distinct sounds of someone trying to get out. Shortly after that he heard a muffled voice.

"Hey, what's going on here? Why can't I get out?"

"Because I taped the door shut," the mafioso said calmly. "Enjoy your last hours. When you weren't looking I spiked your drink with a particularly potent form of cholera. Have fun dying of dehydration due to diarrhea. Hey, look at it this way: at least I gave you a toilet." He chuckled evilly and departed, overhearing one of Warmaster Horus's screams during his final hours.

Xdeathfire owned a nice little farm on the outskirts of town and he was quite proud of it. It had animals; it had crops; he made a decent profit. He was happy.

When the mafia started their killing spree he tightened up security (basically, added more fencing). He cared little for his own life, for while it was a happy one it was quite boring. He feared that if he died then nobody would care for his poor animals, especially his prized, 12 kg chickens.

"In times of crisis, nobody remembers the animals," was his oft-repeated mantra for the past several days. He lived by it - privately of course. If he said that during the voting times in the town square the rest of the villagers would mock him as a wuss. The mafia might even target him, sensing weakness.

All of that was away from his mind on this particular morning. When he was out tending his crops, it was just him and the crop, and no other distractions. Life was peaceful that way.

He saw and heard rustling in the cornfields.

"Hmm," he said, "I wonder if that's the mafia coming for poor me, all alone in the cornfields, defenseless except for his farming tools. Well..." he was raising his voice, "I guess they DIDN'T COUNT ON THIS!" As the rustling drew to his area he pulled out a pistol, and was clearly ready to use it. While it was a small model and probably not lethal unless properly-aimed, it would still hurt a lot.

However, he relaxed. The rustling didn't belong the the mafia but to his prized, 12 kg chickens. But there was something about them...

Then he saw it, and screamed. All of them were somehow wearing T-shirts, T-shirts which said "I :smitten: Sasaki."

The chickens went straight for him and started pecking away. It wasn't as messy as poor Horus's death, but it was definitely up there. Out of sight, viewing the incident with binoculars, the mafioso laughed and tossed a bottle of human pills to himself, thinking how it was a wonderful coincidence that they didn't work properly at all on the chickens.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered all the remaining villagers into the town square in order to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, "Today we are faced with the deaths - extremely nasty, messy affairs that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy - of two more upstanding members of the community. I have nothing more to say. If you wish for the grief to end, then I beg of you to vote for the correct person. That will be all, you know the drill."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (28)
woad&fangs
Ignoramus
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Twilightblade
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Andres
Pannonian
FesterShinetop
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Fragony
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

It was the end of Day Four of the mafia's infestation of the Frontroom. Chief of Police Beirut had hoped that it wouldn't last that long, but it did. He was just beginning to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed in the townies for allowing it to last this long.

Hopefully, it would end tonight. Hopefully, this is the last time that he would be disappointed. Hopefully, he would never have to admit anything this bad to himself again.

He was still confident, mostly because the townies were confident. They had gone after their target, Andres, with a vigor not seen in the past three days. Some were proudly predicting that tonight would be the final night, that they had already smoked out one killer and were about to finish off the second one tonight. Beirut found solace and confort in this, and as a result he had little mercy for Andres.

"Gentlemen," he announced to the crowd once voting had concluded, "You have hereby found Andres guilty of murder. The sentence, as always, will be carried out immediately. Andres, you are accorded a few final words before you are electrocuted, if you wish."

"Darn right I wish, Beirut," Andres said as he made his way up to the execution platform. "Now look, people, you've got the wrong guy! You need to go after the people that are going after me! I'm innocent, they're voting against me, therefore they must be guilty! Look at most people's reasoning! Oh, wait, you can't, because there is none!"

He continued gabbering on, completely not noticing Beirut strapping him into the electric chair. He was entirely focused on delivering his message to the townspeople, and he would die doing it. Literally.

"I mean, I'm trying to help the town! And you guys are still lynching me, therefore you're killing the town's chances of getting out of this alive! And that's scummy behavior right there! Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Bl-" FRZZZZZTZTZ!

Mercifully, Beirut had brought an end to that painful discourse. The crowd sighed in relief, but they realized that there was no accompanying silence. Indeed, outside noise was still present...

FRZZZT-ZZT-ZZT-ZZZZ...

The electric chair was still strong. Beirut was trying again and again to turn it off, but to no avail. It seemed that it had taken on a mind of its own.

"She's gonna blow!" he screamed. Everyone out!!!" The crowd obeyed, yelling and pushing and jostling their way out of the square.

...ZZT-ZZT-ZZTZ-BANG!

The chair exploded, sending blue flashes of lightning everywhere. Some in the crowd dove for cover, the distinct smell of scorched cement already lingering in the air. When the dust cleared, there were three large black splotches where there used to people. After a quick head count, Beirut realized that three people had perished in the accident - Ignoramus, FesterShinetop, and Fragony. Someone puked at the misery of it all.

"Well, hopefully that'll be the last of the deaths," Beirut said. "Go home, everybody."

Voting total for Round 4:

Andres: 9 (woad&fangs, Tran, Brave_Sir_Robin, Proletariat, Tiberius of the Drake, discovery1, CountArach, Don Corleone, Xiahou) :skull:
Pannonian: 6 (RoadKill, Twilightblade, Stig, sapi, Dutch_guy, Crazed Rabbit)
Don Corleone: 2 (Ichigo, Andres)
Brave_Sir_Robin: 1 (Destroyer of Hope)
Lemur: 1 (shlin28)
Ichigo: 1 (Lemur)
Proletariat: 1 (Kagemusha)

Abstained: 2 (Pannonian, Kommodus)
Didn't vote: 5 (Ignoramus, greaterkhaan, FesterShinetop, Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien, Fragony)

~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (24)
woad&fangs
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
Destroyer of Hope
RoadKill
Twilightblade
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. After yesterday's killings there was no sign of human life outside; the town's residents had mostly taken to the local pubs to partake in that timeless tradition of drowning their sorrows in alcohol.

The atmosphere in the bar was comparable to the situation when a favorite sports team lost an important match to their greatest rival, only worse. Nobody could share their sorrows with anybody. The person sitting next to them could, after all, be Mr. A.F.I.A., the notorious killer and poisoner. And, as a matter of fact, one of them was.

He sat and drank discreetly, his demeanor no different from the rest of the poor innocent townspeople's. This wasn't necessarily acting, as the mafioso noted with disappointment that the townies, especially the bartender, had become more paranoid. It was much more difficult to poison public liquid nowadays. He would have to be here longer than he wished.

The bartender, wary that most of the deaths in town had come from poison, was very careful not to leave drinks sitting for long. As soon as a paton had finished a glass he would whisk it away, wash it out, and thoroughly clean it with his rag. There would be absolutely no time to pour the magic substance in.

The mafioso fumed. Things were not supposed to be this difficult. But, he was a determined man, a man who wanted to finish the job he had started. And eventually his determination won out over his frustration. He finally saw an opening - the rag itself.

"Poison the thing designed to get rid of the poison, and the townies are powerless. That's why the AIDS virus is so successful - it attacks the defense itself." Smiling, he very carefully took out his vial, poured most of the poison on the rag, and left after drinking another beer, this time in happiness.

Later on, Destroyer of Hope walked in and just happened to get the unlucky glass that had been cleaned by the tainted rag first. He was dead before he even got a good taste of his final brew.

Twilightblade was also getting extremely paranoid about his food and drink, but his paranoia was to the point where he refused to consume anything that he himself did not repair. As a result, Twilight spent most of his time cooking, and he had gotten rather good at it. On today's menu was a delicious apple pie.

He had already gone through the process of preparing it and putting it in the oven. All that was left was for it to cool off. And so, Twilight went and placed his delicious apple pie out on the front windowsill, his paranoia failing to alert him that this was not a good idea.

The smell quickly attracted Mr. Arlan Frederick Ivanovich Ace, who, when he saw the pie laying out there all ready to be poisoned, chuckled at the foolishness of it all.

"Stupid townies," he said. "After all they've been through they should have learned... although according to Darwin this one'll deserve what he gets." He took out his vial, and poured the final drops of his supply of poison onto the pie. He had just returned the now-empty vial to his pocket when Twilightblade returned to check on his pie.

He froze. This was surely the end.

"And just what do you think you're doing, sir?"

"I was, uhm, er..." Blast! Why, WHY couldn't he think of anything smart to say?

"I know perfectly well what you're doing." The mafioso gulped, surely Twilight would take this to the Chief of Police and he had no gun on him. "Just because my food is delicious and completely free of poison does not entitle you to stealing the whole thing for yourself. I am an excellent cook and we can share the pie."

The mafioso's euphoria at Twilight's stupidity quickly evaporated at the realization that he would have to eat the poisoned pie to keep his cover. He nodded, pale, and grunted. Twilight invited him in and told him to sit down. Once the pie was placed on the table, he discreetly turned the dish so that Twilight was facing the end that had taken the brunt of the poisoning.

He deliberately cut his pie and took a bite of the crust first, the part that would hopefully be farthest from the poison. Immediately he felt the bitterness of the poison in his throat. It wasn't much, but it was still there, and he still needed treatment. He managed to keep a straight face throughout the swallow, which was most important. Twilight, satisfied, opened his mouth wide and took a huge bite of his. Evidently he had eaten the most saturated part, as he quickly keeled over, dead.

The mafioso walked out of the house, for the first time nervous. He hadn't swallowed that much, but it was surely enough to break down his immune system and kill him in a manner of days. He would need to make an antidote, but the problem was that it was complicated and some materials were extremely rare. He would have to start killing for survival, for surely the townies had them...

"PieFOM," he muttered, and emitted a high-pitched, nervous laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (22)
woad&fangs
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Xiahou
Lemur
Kagemusha

Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Sunset was beginning to become a familiar time of day, a dreaded one, for the villagers of the Frontroom. For the past four days, they had watched with glee as the person that they were sure killed off their fellow citizens got put to death, knowing for sure that this would be the last of it, that tomorrow would be peaceful.

It never was.

However, the day was not totally gloomy. As a result of the previous day's electric chair mishap, Chief of Police Beirut had to get a new execution device. He revealed it to the crowd first, in hopes of keeping morale up.

"Gentlemen," he began, "As you all know, yesterday's slight, minor accident (which caused the deaths of three people) with the electric chair has caused me to get a new execution device. After all, we can't lynch anybody without a good lyncher, right?"

"Right," the crowd mumbled. They were past the point of morbid, dark humor.

"Anyway, the new lyncher. I proudly present to you what the mafia have coming to them..." - he pulled a rope that went somewhere - "SHARKS WITH FRICKIN' LAZERS!"

The crowd roared in approval. Frickin' sharks with frickin' lazer beams on their frickin' heads! This was truly a treat indeed. Their despair quickly disappeared and they began stomping their feet and clapping and cheering and generally started behaving like the ancient Romans did when someone was about to be fed to the lions.

"And now..." Beirut's voice took on the tone of a game show announcer, "The person sentenced to be killed by the sharks... Lemur!" Everyone in the crowd cheered. Everyone except for Lemur, obviously. "Lemur," he continued, "Have you any final words before your sentence is carried out?"

Lemur shook his head, more annoyed than anything else.

"Very well," said Beirut, and he kicked Lemur into the pool with the sharks with frickin' lazers. The crowd "ooh"ed and "ahh"ed at the spectacle of it all. After it was all over the Chief of Police addressed the crowd again.

"Gentlemen," he said, "As much fun as the sharks with the frickin' lazers are I would prefer that we not go through this again tomorrow. Go home."

Voting tally for Round 5:

Lemur: 5 (woad&fangs, Ichigo, shlin28, Tiberius of the Drake, Don Corleone) :skull:
Don Corleone: 2 (Tran, Dutch_guy)
Kommodus: 2 (greaterkhaan, Crazed Rabbit)
Tran: 2 (Brave_Sir_Robin, sapi)
woad&fangs: 1 (Stig)
Xiahou: 1 (Kommodus)
Crazed Rabbit: 1 (Pannonian)
Ichigo: 1 (Lemur)

Abstained: 3 (RoadKill, CountArach, Xiahou)
Didn't vote: 4 (Proletariat, discovery1, Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien, Kagemusha)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (21)
woad&fangs
greaterkhaan
Tran
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Dutch_guy
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Don Corleone
Xiahou
Kagemusha

Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur

~~~~~~~~~~

All official requests will be dealt with at the start of the next day phase.

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Nobody got up early to enjoy the morning anymore. They had spent most of the night buffing up their home security systems and were tired from doing so. They slept in, confident that no mafioso would be able to breach their front doors by force.

One mafioso, however, had a strategy to combat this.

*knock knock*

After about a minute's pause, the door opened and Mr. A.F.I.A. found himself staring at the ugly, sleep-worn face of Dutch_guy. Normally he would have been turned off from such a disgusting sight but this time was different. This time he grinned.

"What do you want?" Dutch asked, yawning.

The mafioso didn't even bother wasting words on a response, instead whipping out a shotgun and blasting Dutch right back through the doorway.

"Well, that's one way to get past these home security systems," he said, smiling.

He ran into the house, not particularly caring about how much noise he made. After all, he had been let in. He started going through every cabinet he could find, rummaging through it, crashing items that he wasn't looking for on the ground. Speed was of the essence here, after all.

His seach began to get even more frantic after three cabinets' worth of items yielded nothing. Deciding to try his luck somewhere else, Mr. A.F.I.A. ran down the hallway to the location of a closet. He began, as usual, loudly rummaging through this one, but paused halfway through.

Eureka!

He pocketed a small vial filled with some crushed dry herbs and ran out of the house, past the wreckage of the cabinets and the corpse of Dutch_guy, barely evading the sirens of an incoming cop car that the home security system had tipped off, saying that there was probably an intruder.

The Frontroom graveyard had undergone quite an expansion in the past week. The funerals of those killed by the mafia (the lynched had no graves, at least not until they had their names cleared) had been quick and cheap, but all the departed did have a place to rest eternally.

greaterkhaan was out in the graveyard today, clearing his head and reflecting. Perhaps he would get some kind of sign from the dead, here on this hallowed ground, on how to proceed and how to fight off the mafia and defeat them forever.

He knelt at Sigurd Fafnesbane's grave and mourned. His friend was a great warrior; surely if it came down to a final battle this Norse hero and his trusty long-axe would would see justice done. But he was dead, lured into a trap and speared. The world was unfair.

"Don't worry, you'll be dining with him in Valhalla soon enough."

Khaan felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around to defend himself. It was too late, however, as the mafioso fired one blast of his shotgun right into khaan's chest. He was blown back into an empty grave, seriously wounded but not quite dead. He desperately tried to move, to climb out, but he was amazingly hurt and it was too deep.

Mr. Arlan Frederick Ivanovich Ace saw this and laughed.

"Yeah, you try and climb out," he said, laughing, as he grabbed a shovel and calmly started piling dirt into the grave. Eventually khaan's efforts to escape turned into simple screams of pain, which turned into gradually more muffled screams as more dirt was piled onto him.

Before he departed the graveyeard, the mafioso, still looking pale, moved over to Sasaki Kojiro's grave and deliberately fired eleven more rounds into the earth where he laid.

"Hey, that's a good idea."

The mafioso now was the one who whirled around, nearly puking from the sudden nausea that accompanied this movement. He came face to face with Don Corleone, who held a gun and smiled calmly.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't report you or try to fight you. I don't care anymore."

Mr. Arlan Frederick Ivanovich Ace could only stare in amazement as the Don explained himself. "I just want to get my final shot in at Sasaki." He levelled his gun, aimed it at the spot where the mafioso had just fired eleven shots, and fired five shots of his own. He put the sixth shot in his own mouth.

"Thanks, I guess," the mafioso said, somewhat in shock. He finally left the graveyard much in that manner.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered the remaining villagers into the town square in order to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, "Today it is my unfortunate duty to announce three deaths. In addition to the usual two by the mafia, it appears that Don Corleone also committed suicide. Therefore it is necessary that the sharks with frickin' lazers be used once again.

The crowd cheered, but it was halfhearted and ended rather abruptly.

"Don't get too excited," Beirut said, "It might be you that goes into the tank. Get voting."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (18)
woad&fangs
Tran
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
discovery1
CountArach
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Xiahou
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

It was sunset once again in the Frontroom. The voting, the debating, had once again concluded for the night and all there was left to do was to count the votes and throw the guilty party to the sharks with frickin' lazers.

As Chief of Police Beirut worked on getting the first of those chores down, he stared out at the town square. Eighteen people stared back out at him. Eighteen, soon to be seventeen. Seventeen. Seventeenseventeenseventeen. That was all that would be left. He wouldn't go so far as calling the Frontroom a ghost town, not yet, but everyone definitely had plenty of personal space now in the square, which was unheard of before the mafia started their work.

He didn't have much time to observe the town square as there were now less votes to count, much less. He stared in surprise as he groped in the voting box for another slip of paper and found nothing.

"Well," he said to himself, "I suppose there's one benefit to the mafia coming to kill everybody off." Now he addressed the crowd as a whole.

"Gentlemen," he began, "You have hereby determined Xiahou to be guilty of murder. Xiahou, have-"

"Waitaminute," one villager interrupted. "Haven't the mafia killed, like, more than half of us by now? Shouldn't you be using a more serious word than 'murder'? Maybe, say, 'conspiracy to wipe an entire friggin' village off the map'?"

Beirut sighed. "Even if I used that charge, the penalty for murder is already death. I can't really go much nastier than that. Plus, I don't feel like saying 'conspiracy to wipe an entire friggin' village off the map' every single evening so 'murder' it is.

"Now then," he continued, "As I was saying, Xiahou, you're guilty of murder. Have you any final words before you're thrown to the sharks with frickin' lazers?"

Xiahou got up to the execution platform and popped a pill in his mouth. After shaking his head, he asked the Chief of Police if there was any point in saying anything since his fate was already determined.

"No," Beirut said, as usual.

"Well then, guess it's pointless, isn't it? I guess you'll see what I really was soon enough." He paused, apparently finished, and then decided to add one more thing. "I guess I can't even request a different death?"

"No," Beirut said again. "Those sharks with frickin' lazers cost me a mint, and I intend to get full use out of them. Now get in the tank." Without waiting for Xiahou to comply, the Chief of Police booted the condemned into the tank filled with sharks with frickin' lazers.

Instantly he regretted the decision. A lazer beam fired off, out of the tank and into the town. It hit the top floor of a medium-sized building facing the town square.

"Anybody live there?" Beirut asked, over the din of the sharks still enjoying their meal.

"I think it was Warmaster Horus's art studio," one townie yelled. "Wait, no - music studio. Yeah, that was it."

"Well, it doesn't matter in any case, seeing as he doesn't need it anymore," Beirut said. "All right, all I suggest you do is go home and start praying that you got the right guy this time. Hopefully I won't see you tom-"

CRASH!!!

Seemingly out of nowhere a piano had fallen, crushing poor Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien under it. It made a terrible noise, its final chord drowning out Beirut's words and the sharks finishing up.

"Curses," Beirut said silently. "How the heck does a piano fall and crush Pra when it's nowhere near him?" He sighed. "Looks like I'm gonna have to find a new lynching method. These lawsuits will be even deadlier than any mafioso."

Voting total for Round 6:

Xiahou: 6 (woad&fangs, Ichigo, Proletariat, Crazed Rabbit, Kommodus, Pannonian) :skull:
Brave_Sir_Robin: 3 (Tiberius of the Drake, discovery1, Kagemusha)
woad&fangs: 2 (shlin28, Stig)
Kagemusha: 1 (Brave_Sir_Robin)
Crazed Rabbit: 1 (Xiahou)

Abstained: 2 (RoadKill, sapi)
Didn't vote: 3 (Tran, CountArach, Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (16)
woad&fangs
Tran
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
sapi
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
discovery1
CountArach
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. This was no longer due to the fact that the villagers were staying in their homes; this was simply due to the fact that there was now a lack of villagers to make noise.

Tran was one of the few villagers left. He woke up, opened his windowshade, and groaned. It was a beautiful September day, perfect for tending to his garden. Obviously going outside was a serious risk but he figured that judging by the mafia's effiency so far that it wouldn't matter. Besides, the weather was just too nice to pass up.

After about thirty minutes or so of working he began to relax, something he hadn't been able to do in several days. His garden, the plants, the medicinal herbs he was growing, they all calmed him. He was glad of this. He gradually became more engrossed in his garden and the beauty of the day rather than staying on the alert for, say, potential intruders.

Mr. A.F.I.A. observed this entire process from afar, carefully watching Tran's facial expressions. The speed and the jerkiness in which he moved would tell him a lot. Finally, whem his prey exhibited no noticeable signs of paranoia, he took that as a ready sign. He moved in.

It was a quick job. He entered Tran's property, disabled the home security system (he had read up on it the previous night) and made his way to the backyard and the garden.

Tran didn't even notice. Silently grinning, the mafioso levelled his shotgun and blasted Tran in the back. This was getting easier every day. Well, aside from the pie thing, anyway.

He searched the garden, job clearly not finished yet. Finding what he was looking for, he grabbed several of the medicinal herbs being grown, stuffed them into a bag, and departed. Clockwork.

Later that day, Mr. Arlen Frederick Ivanovich Ace was back at the grave of Sigurd Fafnesbane, this time picking a rose that a townie had conveniently left there after the killings yesterday. He stared at it, amazed at the foolishness of it all. The town was supposed to mourn after the bloodbath was done.

And he was pretty certain that he wasn't done yet.

He headed into another familiar location, the bar which proved to be a favorite poisoning spot. Only one patron was present, the barman evidently having fled town or not bothered to come in today. sapi, clothed in his usual black, stared as he saw the new customer for a second, and then resumed drinking his Appletini in a "very manly way."

The mafioso sat down and paused for a minute. Finally, with sapi trying to look conspicuous with his Appletini, he spoke up. "Where's the barman?"

"Dunno," said sapi. "Guess it doesn't matter, anyways. The mafia seem to be using a shotgun now, maybe they're out of poison."

"Mmm." Mr. Arlen Frederick Ivanovich Ace nodded politely. "So, I guess you're the bartender now? I don't know how to work any of this fancy machinery, and you're sitting there with a nice Appletini."

"It's easy to learn," said sapi, grimacing slightly. He got up and walked behind the bar. "Here, I can show you, and then we can each make as many drinks as we want and drown our sorrows in alcohol. Name your poison."

"How ironic," the mafioso thought silently. "Beer me," he said out loud. sapi nodded and turned around, adjusting the taps. The mafioso quickly spit into sapi's Appletini. "Out of poison?" he said. "I *am* the poison, buddy."

"What was that?"

"Oh," said the mafioso, fumbling, "I said I'll probably drink this place dry by tonight. C'mon, hurry up and drink it dry with me."

"Sounds good to me," sapi said, topping off the mafioso's mug. They chinked their glasses together and each drank. In a matter of seconds sapi was down on the floor, writhing. In another matter of seconds he was motionless.

"Well, that was easy," he said. "I'm lucky it didn't do that to me that quickly." He took out a knife and cut out a patch from sapi's black robes. He was just about to exit the bar when he felt a sharp stab of pain spread throughout his entire body. Everything went black.

Later that day, Chief of Police gathered all of the remaining villagers into the town square in order to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, "...yeah. I'm tired of repeating myself. You all know why we're here, so let's get to it, shall we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (14)
woad&fangs
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
discovery1
CountArach
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

"Well, I'm voting for this one!"

"And I'm voting for that one!"

"You're both wrong, it's this one that's guilty!"

"You're all nuts, I say it's him over here!"

So went Day Seven's voting process. Chief of Police Beirut groaned at it all. Multiple votes? Majorities? Pshaw! The town scoffed at such things, preferring to give each and every person a single vote, and no more, in a perverted, Communistic form of townie justice. Unfortunately, it didn't do much in terms of actually removing someone from the village.

As the evening dragged on and on, with no sign of relief, Beirut finally decided to spice things up a bit in an attempt to break the deadlock.

"Gentlemen," he announced to the crowd, "I don't want to tell you to get moving because that might get the wrong person lynched, but let me just introduce to you the method in which the person you choose to lynch (if you ever do that) will die." He paused, making a small cough. "I proudly present to you... The Chair O' Science!" He pulled another rope from somewhere, and an object once covered by a shroud was now revealed to be a chair.

"Isn't that just a souped-up electric chair?" somebody asked.

"Ah, I'm glad you answered that question," Beirut replied. "No, it is not an electric chair. It is much more sophisticated and dangerous. Once I hook up the condemned up to the chair, they will not be electrocuted - they will be annihilated."

The crowd was silent, wondering about the difference.

"You notice those two tube-like thingies on both sides of the chair back?" The crowd nodded. "Those are actually two Penning Traps, used to store highly charged particles. On one side, we have matter - hydrogen, to be exact - and on the other side, antimatter. Antihydrogen, to be more specific."

"What's the point?"

"I'm getting to that, you dolt," Beirut said impatiently. "Once the condemned person is hooked up to the chair I shall deactivate the Penning Traps, and each particle will enter the condemned's body, meeting up somewhere in the neck. Then, the two particles will join together, achieving duality. Also, his head will be blown off, completely annihilated and there will be no trace of it."

There was an awkward pause, and then at once a great rush to the voting box. Evidently every person wanted to quickly make someone else test it out."

"Time!" Beirut called after the first vote had been dropped in the box. Beirut collected it, reading the votes out loud. After he finished, he announced the unfortunate guinea pig, woad&fangs.

After being escorted up to the execution platform, woad - who looked ridiculously pale - started stuttering. "Uh, B-Beirut?" he asked. "How e-exactly w-will I f-feel?"

"Well, once I release the traps, you'll feel normal for a few seconds. Once the two particles meet in your neck, your insides will begin to melt from the massive heat that the junction creates. You would die a slow and painful death from your neck melting if it weren't for the fact that the explosion will happen a nanosecond later, completely annihilating your head."

"I see." woad gulped and lost all the remaining color in his face. Beirut began strapping him to the chair and inserting wires in his neck while humming a jaunty tune. Finally, he was ready.

"Any last words?"

"Yeah - this sucks already and we're not even at the fun part yet."

"Indeed," Beirut said as he flipped the switch. There was a second's pause, and then, a bright white light that seemed to be emanating from woad's neck. A nanosecond later, it sphered out, completely engulfing his head and only his head in white light. A second later the explosion fizzled out, leaving only a decapitated body, still sitting in the chair. There wasn't even any blood spurting out.

"Today, duality has been achieved, causing annihilation. Kind of poetic, isn't it? Anyway, go home."

Voting tally for Round 7:

woad&fangs: 2 (Ichigo, Stig) :skull:
Ichigo: 1 (woad&fangs)
Kommodus: 1 (RoadKill)
RoadKill: 1 (shlin28)
Crazed Rabbit: 1 (Tiberius of the Drake)
shlin28: 1 (Kagemusha)

Abstained: 4 (Brave_Sir_Robin, Crazed Rabbit, Kommodus, CountArach)
Didn't vote: 3 (Prolertariat, Pannonian, discovery1)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (13)
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
discovery1
CountArach
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs

~~~~~~~~~

Announcement: Starting next day phase I will be tightening up voting requirements. "Abstain" is no longer an option. If you vote "abstain" or post without voting then it counts as "didn't vote" for the round. And yes, the Wrath of God will be ruthlessly enforcing this policy.

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. After some intense discussion in the bar the prior night after the little death by antimatter had concluded, the townies had decided to form in pairs the next day and not break the pair, no matter what. Hopefully, it would dissuade the mafia from attacking, and if anyone had broken the pair their partner would know.

However, the townies numbered an odd, unlucky number: thirteen. Somebody would be left out. And it just so happened that the odd man out was Mr. A.F.I.A., passed out on the floor of the bar after some hard drinking the prior night. After arising, rubbing his eyes and figuring out where he was, he smiled at the irony of it all. Unlucky thirteen about to wreak vengeance upon the other twelve.

He departed the empty bar and began walking to the local chemistry supply shop (also empty). It was a cinch to break in. That's what happened in ghost towns; nobody cared for much anymore unless their lives were directly involved. Once again the mafioso smiled.

Once inside, he quickly and efficiently made his way to specific shelves. If anybody was watching him work (no one was, of course) they would see that it was evident that the mafioso knew what he was doing.

Once the ingredients were collected, he went around and began boiling them, as well as adding a mixture of beans that he brought from elsewhere. After some minutes he separated them into two solutions, adding more beans to one but leaving the other bean-free. He then began stirring. One solution for two minutes, the other for one minute. One for two, the other for one. Repeat.

Finally, after about an hour, one was ready. Mr. A.F.I.A. took the first solution, said "Salud!" and began drinking, barely able to keep it down. He continued working with the other one, further refining it until it turned a violent shade of magenta. After about thirty minutes, this one looked ready. He began to fill it into a convenient aerosol can, where it quickly began to pressurize.

Excellent.

He took one more thing out of his handy-dandy packsack, a familiar-looking gas mask. Mask on head and aerosol can in hand, he exited the empty chemistry supply store back onto the street. Two people were conveniently walking down at that very moment: An excited discovery1 jabbering on about whether Michigan could go 0-3 today with a loss against Notre Dame, and a rather uninterested-looking CountArach, who had evidently tried, without success, telling Disco that he did not care for American football one bit.

As the mafioso began walking towards them, they turned. Disco broke his conversation. Both of them saw the gas mask and aerosol can, looking extremely confused.

The mafioso started spraying. Disco and CountArach died with that look of confusion on their faces.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered the remaining villagers into the town square in order to make an announcement.

"Gentleme," he began, "Today we number eleven. After you lynch someone tonight the number will go down to ten. I would like our numbers to stay in double digits, especially if eventually we want to see our numbers go up again after this is all over."

Everybody looked around. Maybe Beirut would give them a little "Congratulations, we've saved the village" present?

"Anyway, enough about that. Come on, people. We've done this for too long. Get voting!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (11)
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Pannonian
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi
discovery1
CountArach

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

REMINDER: Abstain is no longer a valid voting option, nor is posting without voting. If you do either of these things it will count as not voting. Remember, too much non-voting means Wraths of God!

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Gentlemen (and lady), we have our first tie of the game.

Here's how things are going to work. All votes are thrown out from this round just past. You will be voting again, for one of the top four vote-getters: shlin28, RoadKill, Kagemusha, and Pannonian.

Voting ends in 24 hours sharp. Get to it!

Tally for Round 8:

shlin28: 2 (Ichigo, Kagemusha)
RoadKill: 2 (Brave_Sir_Robin, Crazed Rabbit)
Kagemusha: 2 (shlin28, Pannonian)
Pannonian: 2 (Proletariat, Kommodus)
Kommodus: 1 (RoadKill)
Brave_Sir_Robin: 1 (Stig)
Crazed Rabbit: 1 (Tiberius of the Drake)

Wow, everyone voted this round. You all get a cookie.

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Every fifteen seconds, Chief of Police Beirut checked his watch, groaned, and silently cursed at the sky, asking why more than fifteen seconds hadn't passed.

In the town square, the villagers, at least those who weren't at risk of lynching did the same ritual. It was boring to them. By now, the Mafia had been a constant in their life, as with the executions. The entire thing was without purpose; no matter who they lynched, the mafia would be there tomorrow to take two more lives. They grew bored with the process; saw it as pointless.

The four unlucky villagers who had emerged as the front-runners in voting were the only people present who felt something other than boredom. They faced an impending death. They faced annihilation at the hands of the antimatter chair and the Penning Traps. Odds were that even if they survived, they would quickly die later at the hands of the mafia. However, that was later and this was now, thus they were worried.

Sunset came and went without any sign of a clear lynch. The people were still discussing, debating, deliberating. Beirut supposed that the extra caution was prudent considering the situation they were facing, but he too had been dulled by the repetitiveness of the past week. He just wanted to get the night over with so he could go to sleep and wake up the following day and do it all over again until, inevitably, the mafia killed everyone in the village and he went without a job and he could spend the rest of his days alone and unemployed, living off the remnants of the once-prosperous town.

The general tone of the night was clear: The townies were losing hope.

Finally, finally, the long deadlock had been broken - controversially of course - but the people dismissed it with offhand remarks, casually suggesting that the person would simply be lynched the next day, or even better, killed by the mafia.

Only one person seemed to break the lethargic apathy: Pannonian, the person doomed to get his head annihilated. And even then, he seemed to be happy, almost awaiting his impending death with anticipation.

"Gentlemen," Beirut said to the crowd, "You have hereby found Pannonian guilty of murder. Pannonian, have you anything to say before you are executed?"

"Yeah," said Pannonian running up the execution platform. "This should be fun! Beirut, please. Don't be shy with the antimatter. I want this to be explosive, men."

"All... right," said Beirut, slightly taken aback at this emotional display. "Just strap yourself in and we'll be off to go." He worked, setting the chair/machine up over Pannonian's cheering. Finally, it was ready.

"Well, hope this is the end," he said, but only halfheartedly.

"Nah, it isn't. But at least I won't be around to see it," said Panno.

"Indeed," mumbled the Chief of Police. He flicked the switch, and the scientific process began again. The Penning Traps stopped working, the hydrogen and antihydrogen were set loose, moving around the tubes, meeting in Pannonian's neck, and the white light began to form, first a visible speck and then in an explosion, and then it evaporated and Pannonian's head was gone.

"See you tomorrow, I guess," said Beirut. "Same time, same place."

Voting tally for Round 8a:

Pannonian: 4 (Tiberius of the Drake, Kommodus, Proletariat, RoadKill) :skull:
RoadKill: 3 (Brave_Sir_Robin, Crazed Rabbit, Ichigo)
Kagemusha: 2 (shlin28, Stig)
shlin28: 2 (Kagemusha, Pannonian)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (10)
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
Proletariat
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Tiberius of the Drake
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi
discovery1
CountArach

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs
Pannonian

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. Such was the norm when being part of a ghost town, as the few remaining villagers now officially were. As a result, there were no sounds to make the sleepy villagers awake early, and they all slept in. This gave Mr. A.F.I.A. all the time he needed to make proper... adjustments... to certain items in the town and still get a good sleep.

Proletariat woke up late, as did everyone in town but the mafioso. She stretched out, groggy, and began her usual morning ritual of preparing herself for the day? For what reason, though? Did she want to look pretty for the voting later in the day? Who cared? They were all going to die, but she did it anyway.

Once it was completed, she went outside to get the paper, just like so many villagers before her. Even at a distance, she could tell the paper was much smaller and thinner than usual. She was surprised that there was any news at all.

As she approached the paper, Mr. A.F.I.A.'s dilligent work through the night and morning paid off. The streetlight by her house, dark, suddenly shot out a canister of gas, perhaps triggered by a conspicuously-planted motion sensor device. Prole only had time to comprehend what had happened before the gas overwhelmed her and she passed out on the side of the road. She didn't have to make up at all.

Tiberius of the Drake similarly got up late, but unlike Prole he didn't bother making himself up, like most self-respecting men. Instead, he got out of bed, threw on some clothes (perhaps they were dirty, perhaps not. He really didn't care.), and headed directly for the garage after making himself a sandwich.

He didn't know why he hadn't thought of this earlier; it was such a perfect plan and foolproof too, for surely nobody was out to block the exits now, not with the Mafia making things difficult enough in town...

"So long, suckers," he said as he was about to enter his garage, drive his car, and leave the Frontroom behind forever.

He opened the door and collapsed, falling victim to the second of Mr. A.F.I.A.'s nighttime tinkerings. The entire garage was sealed and filled with carbon monoxide, no doubt left over from the exhaust of his car which had been running all night. Apparently it wasn't a foolproof plan after all.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered the remaining villagers into the town square in order to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he began, "We are down to eight. Single digits, boys. Good job, you've killed off the Frontroom. So, let's try to salvage the situation and not let the Mafia finish their job. Get voting!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (8)
Ichigo
RoadKill
Brave_Sir_Robin
shlin28
Stig
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi
discovery1
CountArach
Proletariat
Tiberius of the Drake

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs
Pannonian

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD. (-edit- W00t, post 3333!)

Chief of Police Beirut stood on the execution platform, looking out over the small group of people (they could no longer be considered a crowd) but not really paying attention. Instead, his nose was in a book and he was thumbing through the pages, muttering to himself.

"No, this one's too normal... maybe we'll use that one later... ugh! That should do it!"

He did this for several minutes, which passed into hours. Beirut's comments were occasionally marked with groans, and gradually the attention of the townies waned from the voting process to their Chief of Police's mutterings, finally visibly losing all interest in voting. After a while of this noticeable lack of silence, Beirut paused and looked up.

"Oh," he said, surprised, "So you're all done then?" Without waiting for anyone to answer, he continued. "Good, then. I'll tally the votes." He placed the book down on a small wooden table on the platform. Also on the table was a simple handgun, a pistol designed primarily self-defense. Surely he wouldn't use it as a firing squad weapon? The town wondered.

"Gentlemen," he began, "You have hereby found Brave_Sir_Robin to be guilty of murder. BSR, have you anything to say before you are killed?"

BSR stepped up to the execution platform, still looking confused. Evidently the fact that he was going to die, now, hadn't set in yet. "Yeah," he said, "What's up with the book?"

"Oh," said Beirut, "It's going to be killing you.

"Let me explain," he continued as he saw the town react with puzzlement. This is no ordinary book. This is The Complete Collection of William Topaz McGonagall, widely considered to be the worst poet in the entire English language. I will be reading a selection from his book today, with headphones on of course. You, by the end of it, will be so disgusted and will want to make it stop that you will seize the gun on the table, point it at your head, and fire desperately, hoping to make it stop."

There was a shocked gasp that rippled through the townies. Hanging was okay, the electric chair fine, sharks with frickin' lazers not bad, even the antimatter chair was all right. But this... this was pure torture! BSR already began to shudder.

"Ahem." Everyone put their hands to their ears, but BSR's were tied down. He grimaced in anticipation.

"Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time."

Everybody groaned. It was The Tay Bridge Disaster, possibly the worst one of the lot! BSR began shrieking and writhing, desperately trying to get free.

"'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
'I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay.'"

By the close of the second stanza, Beirut could barely be heard over Brave_Sir_Robin's screaming and pounding the floor. Nevertheless, he simply raised his voice and pressed on.

"When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
'I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.'"

By now BSR was working furiously to undo his ropes. Several townies who had unconsciously let up pressed harder on their ears, their faces turning red from the effort.

"But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time."

Two things happened at the end of the fourth stanza. First of all, BSR succeeeded in undoing his bounds, groped furiously, madly, for the gun, and blasted himself in the head, falling to the floor with a facial expression of blessed relief.

Secondly, and even more gruesomely, Ichigo took his hands off his hears for a moment to scrach an itch on his neck, immediately grimacing at the horrid poetry being read aloud. It was a pesky itch, however, and his ears remained undefended for too long. At the end of the last word ("time") the terrible rhyme proved to be too much, and his entire body burst in flames, spontaneously combusting for all the Frontroom to see.

"Wow," said Beirut, impressed. "That was only about half the poem. Anyway, good night."

Voting tally for Round 9:

Brave_Sir_Robin: 3 (shlin28, Kommodus, Kagemusha) :skull:
RoadKill: 2 (Brave_Sir_Robin, Crazed Rabbit)
Kommodus: 1 (Stig)
Ichigo: 1 (RoadKill)

Didn't vote: 1 (Ichigo)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (6)
RoadKill
shlin28
Stig
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Ichigo

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi
discovery1
CountArach
Proletariat
Tiberius of the Drake

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs
Pannonian
Brave_Sir_Robin

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet. No buildings were occupied, except for the few houses in which people still lived in. All of the shop owners had long fled.

Naturally, this made for the perfect sneaking environment. Everyone was barricaded in their houses by now; surely they wouldn't bother to notice a mafioso running around town, rigging things to his liking. For eventually, they would emerge from their fortresses...

Stig was the first to step outside. He ignored the newspaper still on the driveway (far too many people had perished picking it up), tiptoeing carefully so as to avoid any grass traps, concrete traps, or streetlight traps. He made his way - carefully - to the bar, ready to drink his boredom away, ready to pass the time until it was time to go back to the town square.

He finally made it to the bar, opened the door, and sighed a sigh of relief. The door was not booby-trapped. He was still alive. But his good feeling was fleeting. Once he saw the messiness of the place, he screamed, emanating a voice a pure horror.

The place was a wreck. Pieces of broken glass, evidently from bottles and mugs, were everywhere. The floor was wet and sticky from hundreds of bottles of alcohol being smashed. It looked like the mother of all bar fights had taken place here.

Stig gulped. Was there anything to drink here at all? Had he made this trip for nothing? He rifled through the bar, trying to find something, anything, to drink. Then he saw the bottle and its label and screamed again.

The only thing left to drink in the place was Heineken.

"Do I or don't I?" he said, talking to himself. "Surely it's the worst thing ever invented by man, but it's got alcohol in it, and I could really use some alcohol right about now..."

He swallowed (both his saliva and his pride), closed his eyes, held his nose, and began chugging the stuff. Instantly he gagged. It was horrible, worst than he had remembered, and there was a peculiar aftertaste to it, very peculiar indeed...

He collapsed to the floor, adding to the bar's mess.

The rest of the town, while obviously not hearing about Stig's situation, continued to barricade themselves in. They were paranoid, they weren't taking any chances. The places were wired; if an ant farted on their property they would know about it.

shlin28 went even further, somehow acquiring pressure sensors and a non-nuclear missile. If anyone even took one step on his grass or driveway the sensors would pick it up and they would soon find a heat-seeking missile headed directly for their position. He grinned. He would be surviving this day, at least.

Then, the window broke. Some foreign object came flying through it, a foreign object that quickly began to smoke. Gas! shlin groaned, all that work he had put into stopping a close-range assault and the mafioso went and threw a gas canister in through his window.

He groped around for his gas mask, but it was far too late and he collapsed. Out in the street, Mr. A.F.I.A. stared at the lawn, chuckled, and then drove away. His task was almost complete.

Later that day, Chief of Police Beirut gathered all the remaining villagers into the town square in order to make an announcement.

"Gentlemen," he said somberly, "This is it. Whether we get the right person tonight or not, this is the last time we go through this process. If we win, we win. If not, I estimate that by tomorrow the Mafia will have enough manpower to complete their attack, and you will all be dead. With that in mind, I advise you to analyze the situation, go over all possible actions, and focus. If you get it wrong, it's your life. Get voting!"

~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (4)
RoadKill
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Ichigo

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi
discovery1
CountArach
Proletariat
Tiberius of the Drake
Stig
shlin28

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs
Pannonian
Brave_Sir_Robin

~~~~~~~~~

Final round. Good luck, you four.

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Sunset.

There were four people left, the Final Four, four little Indians, all awaiting their fate. They had cast their votes, discussed one final time, and then waited for the second act of the nightly show (in town ten days only, but make sure you see the finale!) to come onstage; waited for the final votes to be read.

Chief of Police Beirut entered the show stage left, but to no applause. After all, it would be out of place. Instead, he placed the gun and book from the previous night on the same table as before and read the votes without any pre-emptive speech.

"Gentlemen," he said after the votes had been counted, "You have hereby determined RoadKill to be guilty of murder. I can only hope that you're right. RoadKill, have you anything to say before your sentence is carried out?"

RoadKill made his way up the platform, looking very sad. Was it from failing the town? Failing his mission assigned by superiors? Who knew? "Yeah," he sighed, "You guys got the wrong guy. Can I at least have the antimatter chair or the sharks? Those were cool deaths."

"No. You get the second half of The Tay Bridge Disaster, mafioso."

"What happened to 'innocent until proven guilty?'

"There's only one way to find out," Beirut said with a touch of finality. He opened the book and thumbed through the pages, finding the one he wanted, and slipped the headphones over his ears after tying RoadKill's hands down.

"So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year."

The screaming began. None of the town heard it, as all of their hands were firmly clamped to their ears in terror. None of them wanted a repeat of Ichigo the previous day. RoadKill suffered alone.

"So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time."

The writhing and wriggling began. Since this was a visual cue rather than a sonic one the three remaining townies took notice. Each had a different thought on his mind.

"As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time."

Beirut looked out pleasantly over the developments taking place. He didn't suffer, his ears were covered up and were being blasted by Pink Floyd's "Sheep." He was the lucky one. He paused, ready to read the final stanza.

"It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed."

That was it; the incredible suckitude of the poem had taken over. Driven insane by the horrible meter, RoadKill, with a surge of adrenaline, broke through the rope, bellowed, dove for the gun and shot himself in the head while still in midair. It was done.

There were three left now, three little Indians that had once been four; were they all doomed to lose even more?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still alive: (3)
Crazed Rabbit
Kommodus
Kagemusha

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Ichigo

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi
discovery1
CountArach
Proletariat
Tiberius of the Drake
Stig
shlin28

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs
Pannonian
Brave_Sir_Robin
RoadKill

SUMMARY ONLY. PLEASE POST IN GAME THREAD.

Day breaks in the Frontroom. All is quiet.

Storm clouds had swept over the town during the night. The three survivors had been up all night and seen the clouds roll in. In the morning their little town seemed to be a massive gray prison. It was all silent.. Even the birds and insects had been driven out by the violence. They waited. Not for anything in particular, just... waited.

Time passed, but the clouds remained. As noon approached, the three remaining villagers heard Chief of Police Beirut announce over the public address system that they should meet in the town square.

Slowly, cautiously, they made their way out from behind formidable barricades in their houses and moved to the town square. Beirut had said nothing of anyone being killed, and they were still alive; could the mafia be dead? After ten days and thirty-six deaths, could they *finally* be dead?

The first to arrive in the desolate square on that desolate day was Kommodus, carrying a laptop and a gun. He parked his car in the square (there was plenty of room), got out, and made his way to the execution platform where Beirut was motioning for him. The platform seemed more crowded than usual, with all previous execution devices (aside from the exploded electric chair) present. The Chief of Police himself was holding the gun that had been used in the most recent two executions.

"Glad you could make it, Kommodus," Beirut said, his tone giving nothing away. "What does Holmes say?"

"Nothing, as usual. It's come up as 'inconclusive' again and again. I really need to make some major upgrades if I survive."

Beirut snorted in disgust. "Let me be the judge of that," he said. "Put it on the table and open it up. We'll see if that's really its results or if you're just faking its ignorance for your benefit, mafioso."

"I'll do what you ask," Kommodus said. "But keep in mind that after my first 'inconclusive' your Detective probably investigated me for himself. If he passed the information to you then you'll know that I'm not acting."

"Well, now that you mention it..." Beirut suddenly stared down at the floor, "Well- yes. sapi did pass off the information to me before he died, but I thought that he might have been... mistaken."

"Since when has a Detective ever been mistaken in the Frontroom?" Kommodus asked. Beirut didn't reply, and the two of them stood in silence, waiting as the dark clouds lingered overhead.

The next person to arrive was Crazed Rabbit, jumping out of his car, wearing a bulletproof vest and a rather large assault rifle.

"Good God, he's coming to kill us!" Kommodus yelled, and the two of them dove for cover behind the antimatter chair. Beirut quickly regained his composure and, using reflections, aimed his gun (accurately) at Rabbit.

"Hold it!" he shouted.

"What is going on?!" Rabbit half screamed/half demanded. "I turn my house into a fortress and now you want me to leave it to come here? Out in the open?! A sniper could grease us from a thousand different spots!"

"That doesn't explain why you needed to jump out and go Special Forces on us!" Beirut yelled back, this time standing up.

"They could have captured you and forced you to say that," said Rabbit in a slightly milder tone. "Or they can be good mimics. How was I supposed to know it was you? Anyway," he said, spotting Kommodus, "We have him. What does Holmes say?"

"Inconclusive," all three said in unison. Rabbit groaned, and the yelling resumed. Since all three of them held guns they came very close to firing shots when the third car pulled up. Kagemusha got out, walking into the square with dignity, carrying a katana.

Beirut pointed his gun at Kage. "Freeze!" he yelled. "Don't take one step closer!"

"Since I'm carrying a heavy katana and am still a hundred feet away from you, I don't think that's necessary!" Kage yelled back. "Anyway, what's going on? Did we get the Mafia?"

Nobody had given that much thought. After ten days, death was expected; it was the norm. Were they finally breaking the cycle? Did they win? Did they cheat what was coming to them?

"Perhaps..."

"Maybe..."

"Did we really..."

And then, the worst of them all.

"No."

Just then, a wind rose up and began blowing through town. The clouds darkened and began furiously rolling and churning in the sky. It seemed like some malevolent force was controlling nature. The two events happened simultaneously, no nobody was sure who had said "no," or if anyone had said it at all, if it was just the wind mocking them. Unconsciously, they all drew closer to each other in the square.

As the wind rose, it almost seemed like more words could be heard on the wind, so they grew even less certain of themselves. The four of them stood looking outside the square as the wind grew even stronger, whipping leaves and trash through the air.

And there could be seen fleeting movements of ... something at the edge of the square. Dark shapes dashed between cars and bushes. In an instant, the wind stopped, and the various objects flying through the air began to gently descend. Five words could be heard:

"We have waited long enough."

Then from behind a hundred different hiding spots, from every dark spot, glimmers of light could be seen. They looked like eyes.

The clouds opened up and a deluge fell, as the villagers remained unmoving and pointing their weapons at the outside. One final word was softly spoken, almost lost beneath the drumbeat of rain:

"Vengeance."

A hundred great rabbits leaped from the edge of the square and ran towards the center. The townies all opened fire, or began slashing, but it was futile. In two seconds the horde was on them, knocking them down, tearing and slashing. All but Crazed Rabbit. He had not shot his rifle. After the rabbits had gained control over the remaining townies, he finally turned towards them.

First, he spoke to Kagemusha. "Long ago my ancestor was killed by one like yourself. They swore vengeance back then and have pursued it until today. When they learned of your presence in this town I was sent to take vengeance for my kind. And look at what you've made me do! I have become that which I hated, a murderer!" He paused for an instant. "But I have prevailed."

And then he shot Kagemusha in the head.

"But, but ... you swore!" exclaimed Kommodus.

"I'm sorry, Kommodus," said Crazed Rabbit, turning to face him. "But I did not lie. You asked the wrong question. I am in the Mafia, but not the mafia. An important difference this book might help with." He tossed a Merriam Webster dictionary to Kommodus, then nodded to a rabbit near him. The rabbit jumped and bit out Kommodus's throat. It was over quickly.

The rabbits then left, melting back into the landscape.

He turned to Beirut, who had been disarmed but spared. "You're the worst of them all," he said. "You think we are bad, killing off innocent townspeople, but look at the blood on your hands. By your hand you executed nine innocent townies, only once, by a stroke of luck, nailing my partner woad&fangs, or Waldinger, or whatever you want to call him. I think you'll have a good long time to look at the hollow shell that used to be your town and think about your actions."

He paused, staring back at the landscape. What he had said to Beirut was true, but was that the whole story? He looked around, at the death and mayhem he had caused, all for vengeance against one person. He almost gagged with revulsion. What had he done? The killings, brutal and bloody, pure murder. What terrible form of evil had he become?

He dropped his rifle, then his vest, and slowly walked out of town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Survived: (1)
Crazed Rabbit

Suicide/Wrath of God:
Ignoramus
FesterShinetop
Fragony
Don Corleone
Pra Tha Funkee Homo Sapien
Ichigo

Killed:
pevergreen
Sigurd Fafnesbane
Caius Flaminius
Killfr3nzy
Sasaki Kojiro
Byzantine Mercenary
Warmaster Horus
Xdeathfire
Destroyer of Hope
Twilightblade
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan
Tran
sapi
discovery1
CountArach
Proletariat
Tiberius of the Drake
Stig
shlin28
Kommodus
Kagemusha

Executed:
Sarathos
Husar
Beefy187
Andres
Lemur
Xiahou
woad&fangs
Pannonian
Brave_Sir_Robin
RoadKill

Result:

MAFIA VICTORY

~~~~~~~~~

A huge congratulations to Crazed Rabbit, the first mafioso since Kagemusha in Mafia I to survive one of my games!!!

Great game everybody. Commentary will be in a few days.