Nah its night phrase
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Nah its night phrase
Lynch write up completed. Both died by hanging.
Remember that night orders are due no later than 1400 EST today, that's about 4.5 hours hence.
when is the reveal of drisos' role
I think in Day 3 or 4.
day 3 has already passed hasnt it?
Gruesome. Were the details Andres' or Seamus' doing?
The Stranger: The autopsies for the first killings and lynchings appear after tonight.
Revelation speed, e.g.
Dead night #1 = revelation Day #4
Dead day #2 = revelation Day #5
@ Panno. My details, Andres just said "lynch both." I used the verb literally. And what is film noir without a little "dark" imagery? :devilish:
I think that, being a lot of players, everyone posts his/her black list and their reasoning. In that way, something will see the light in those black lists.
i doubt i understand you... what are black lists?
Night Three Endeth
Standeth by for Summary....eth.
bleugh...
A Black List, in this case, is a list of individuals who are considered untrustworthy. It can also be used to describe a list of persons who are banned from a specific activity. You can find a full list of meanings for the term here.Quote:
Originally Posted by The Stranger
~:)
thanx :)
is it now day or night or...?
day... results soon
I just noticed the last tally in the no lynch I did abstain but was not counted there were only 4 and there should have been 5. My director vote was counted.
Just to note I have been voting.
Ah, good, so both are lynched. :2thumbsup:
Another mention. I don't believe you, TruePraetorian.
A) You pm with a very good reason for your behaviour. since next night, I will be revealed dectective by seamus, so you can trust me. ~;)
B) I will be yelling around here that you should be lynched. :balloon2: :book: :yes:
Edit: I can imagine you not wanting to give in because now you heard people've even been banned for double accounts. Go ahead and explain all nicely to Tosa, and apologize. If you do so, it won't be problem, I think. I think no one wants you to get a temp ban, or whatever. And I can imagine these kinds of efforts in the heat of game. I've noticed myself really pretending this all is real and begin quite agressive here and there in the game. It's just because of the game, I'm more friendly normally. (I hope ~;p)
I like Caius' idea of posting your own personal "black list". I'll wait until the night is over until I make one(If I made it through the night.)
Edit: I say that we spare the axe on Glenn and Jimbob for now. I think that the WoG's will come at the end of this round so the inactive "crown" role will hopefully be WoG'd and the role redistributed to a random townie. If someone doesn't come forward claiming the "crown role" by day 4 then we'll know with 100% positivity that Glenn and Jimbob are Don and Luca.
Ha! That is if I survived Night 3... I've got a bad feeling my luck is running out! No - no speculation, just instinct.
I just have something to say to all my accusers, and I think it is the thing that can clear my name.
If the account was made 1-30, and Mafia started february something, then why would I make another account if I didn't even have my role? It's obvious that it is pure coincidence. Go ahead and call for my name to be lynched, but honestly just because we are related doesn't mean I did it..
And for all of you wanting proof I have a brother and he's not made up, I can post some pics of him, or even give you guys his myspace. His myspace name is even chewy....Matthew, nickname Mattchew, after starwars nickname became chewy..sometimes even Chewybacca.
EDIT: And also, has it occured to anyone that this might've been the plan? I mean, I did post right after my brother declaring us related...maybe the sender saw this as the "perfect skapegoat"?
I for one believe you. It wouldn't be a good idea to point out he is your brother, so I don't think you did get him to send that for you.
I wouldn't worry TP, the fact you haven't cared much for Sarathos and instead hunted for my blood is probably reason enough that you wouldn't go to such lengths to contact him.
I have to go in a moment.. hope the results come through!
Anxious!
Do remember that the WoG will be announced. Seamus says in the rules thread that it will be 3 missed lynch votes, D4 is probable. But, I know that in Capo I I didn't replace RTWGuru as detective until D6. So let's wait until the WoG is announced, shall we?Quote:
Edit: I say that we spare the axe on Glenn and Jimbob for now. I think that the WoG's will come at the end of this round so the inactive "crown" role will hopefully be WoG'd and the role redistributed to a random townie. If someone doesn't come forward claiming the "crown role" by day 4 then we'll know with 100% positivity that Glenn and Jimbob are Don and Luca.
How many people can suffer from WoG at one time? I've only seen around 30 people post so far.
As many as there are who don't post. There have been very large-scale WoGs in the past.Quote:
Originally Posted by TruePraetorian
This is main thread post #1316
“Take a good look at yourself.
Your eyes always glaring always comparing
you can't stop your starring because there's always something wrong
Pull apart my heart, Scratch out my soul
Silence my dreams, When you see fit
This blood feud of chains and ice,
This blood feud has gone on too long
Cast your judgement somewhere else
Cast your judgement on yourself
Burn my idols but what about yours”
-- Xdisciplex
Summary, Night Three
taka was just a bit paranoid this evening. But is it really paranoia if they ARE out to get you? He’d gotten himself a car with a driver/guard and bullet resistant armoring. He now carried a revolver and wore a bulletproof vest – trusting to luck twice is pushing it – and the driver varied his route home. He needn’t have bothered.
At a stoplight, a loaded gravel truck rammed taka’s stopped car from behind. Since the vehicle he’d stopped behind was also a loaded gravel truck, taka’s armored ride was crunched and mangled and completely immobilized. taka was knocked senseless.
The gravel truck drivers exited their trucks – they had been prepared for the collision – and using the 10-gallon containers they’d brought with them started dousing taka’s car with gasoline, pouring it into the car wherever a crack in the armor, chassis, or glass made this possible. The guard/driver attempted to smash the broken driver’s window and exit the vehicle but was stopped by a third man who pushed the muzzle of a shotgun through the window crack the driver had been trying to enlarge and pulped his face with two blasts of a shotgun. The gasoline was all poured when the third man tossed in a lit match. Waking up in a panic, taka tried to use his gun to get out. It didn’t work. taka died screaming.
Caius was researching at the Fatlington Public Library when the attack came. Shadowy figures blocked every exit from that section of the stacks – all of them with silenced pistols. Caius glanced around, terror spiking adrenalin through his system. The only door not occupied by an armed shadow figure was the one to the back stairwell.
<<So that’s where the attack will come from,>> thought Caius. <<The others are here to block my escape.>>
He crept over next to the door, hoping against hope that he’d be able to overpower this attack and make a break for it. The door opened slowly.
Caius slammed the encyclopedia he’d been reading into the head of the… <<Librarian,>> thought Caius? The librarian had gone down like she’d been hit by a tree; the noise bringing the other gunmen forward into the stacks. Caius made a break down the stairs and got away from the Library. He had no idea why the stairwell had been uncovered, but he was more than willing to take advantage of the attacker’s miscue.
Beefy187 pushed through the crowd in the taproom to make his exit and head home. He checked carefully as he exited, but things seemed clear. He was two blocks toward home when a bright light struck his vision. His night vision shot, he couldn’t see anything but vague shadows.
“Don’t move,” said a husky voice.
“What do you want,” asked Beefy?
“Check your pocket.”
He did. A book? Someone had slipped a book into his pocket as he left the bar. He fished it out and it opened to a marked page. It was a Bible, and a passage from Exodus had been circled: “Keep thee far from a false matter; and the innocent and righteous slay thou not: for I will not justify the wicked.”
Said the voice from the dark, “Exodus 23:7.”
“Can you turn off that light,” asked Beefy. He wasn’t sure what this mysterious figure wanted.
“Well, you’re NOT on the road to Damascus, so yes.”
An object whistled out of the dark, blocking part of the intense light and struck Beefy in the head. He went from light to dark in an instant.
It took Fermanagh’s team a while to find the body. Beefy187 had been quartered and floated off on four different weather balloons. The pieces, caught in trees or on roof antennae, took some time to collect. Each of the pieces had been stripped and painted with the number “216” painted on the chunk. The marked bible was found rubber-banded into Beefy’s left hand.
Evil_Maniac from Mars had gone home quietly, as he had the other nights. He was a fastidious fellow, for the most part, and definitely preferred his own cooking to that of the local restaraunts.
The attack came through both the front and back doors at once. The first attacker was met by a frying pan and hot oil flung his direction as he leveled his pistol. The attacker ducked, but never got off the shot. His jump carried him into the second assailant at the back door, knocking them both off their feet.
Evil dove down the cellar stairs, bolting the door behind him. He’d made it to the phone and dialed the operator by the time the men upstairs had started to break it down with a table – it was not your average interior door – but the men retreated when they’d heard the sirens.
Evil breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head. If the attackers had been only a bit better organized….
In restrospect, Zorg might have made it if he’d had less to drink with dinner. He’d stopped in the men’s room on the way out the door – checking to make sure nobody was in there. He hadn’t quite finished recycling some of his beverages when gunfire erupted through the door, showering the room with splinters, ricochets, and the last of his recycling effort – it’s hard to keep one’s aim true when attacked by surprise.
Still, he might have made it save for the small bathroom window. The window was too small to escape from but plenty large enough to admit a bundle of German-style stick grenades. He bled out before the ambulance crew arrived. The presence of a single perfect yellow rose was never explained.
Andres was exiting his favorite restaurant at about the same time – with nearly the same greeting awaiting him. He hadn’t gone two steps when someone across the small street opened up on him with a tommy gun. Andres had seen the glint of the muzzle as the weapon came up and – reacting quickly – sought cover. At that very moment a LaSalle rolled up to the curb and stopped in front of Andres, giving him the cover he needed.
The shooting went on for a little while, but Andres was well protected behind the motor block of the car. Andres looked around for a flanking attack, for a second gunman, but nobody materialized. With sirens wailing nearby, the gunman had faded into the shadows.
Only one of the cars screeched to a stop near Andres, the other one – and an ambulance – were headed to a different scene. When Andres stood to check on and thank the driver, there was nobody in the car.
Pannonian never actually knew what hit him. He’d been standing at the trolley stop – surrounded by plenty of potential witnesses and with a Fatlington police officer standing behind him. He only had a moment to register that the trolley car was coming toward the stop WAY too fast when the police officer “accidentally” bumped into him from behind. He was shoved into the path of the Trolley, which hit him doing more than 60 miles-per-hour. He landed hard and his neck snapped – there was little pain. The empty trolley never stopped until the end of the line.
The police officer made his way quickly to Pannonian’s corpse to see if he could “help.” Nobody saw him place the little pink ballet shoes in “3rd position” on Pannonian’s corpse, and nobody could identify him moments later when the real police showed up.
The Stranger was following his daily routine of taking a midnight stroll through the park – though perhaps a little more cautiously than usual -- when he felt a sharp pain stab his neck.
<<Damn mosiquitos,>> he thought. But the pain didn’t quite go away and his vision started to blur. He leaned against a bench, his balance suddenly chancy. <<Some kind of drug,>> he wondered, his mind not forming the thoughts easily.
”For you, The Stranger, death will no longer be a stranger,” said a deep voice from the shadows, chuckling at his own horrid pun.
The Stranger collapsed, never to awaken. His head was placed in a wire noose, the number “4” painted on his chest, and a crosses cut deeply into either cheek. When the weather balloon that had been attached to the noose was released his head was half severed and he shot up through the trees of the little park by the beach. Had The Stranger not been caught by the thick summer foliage of the tallest tree, it is hard to say if his body would ever have been recovered.
GeneralHankerchief was not in the mood to be trusting. His bungalow was pretty solidly built and he’d decided to have a last drink for the evening while sitting in a comfy chair – with his back to a wall and a gun sitting on the armrest.
“Always be prepared,” he said, quoting the boyscout motto while toasting himself.
But he wasn’t prepared when the wall of the bungalow itself – followed by a Packard – came crashing towards him. Stunned and pummeled by brick, glass, and beams, he couldn’t defend himself -- but against all the odds he didn't have to. Just as the attackers exited the car, the floor beneath GeneralHankerchief collapsed.
GH fell into the sandy bottom of the hole only to have a section of the bungalow roof above him cover the hole like a hatch. He wasn't much more than scratched and bruised. The police would be hours digging him out, and the attackers were long since gone, but at least he'd acquired a new -- albeit pretty banged up -- Packard as a trade in for his Bungalow.
Glenn hid nervously in his apartment, wondering his time was up. Sure he felt a little paranoid – who wouldn’t after the last couple of days he’d had. Checking his locks and perimeter once more, Glenn climbed into bed to try to get some sleep.
He was not prepared for the explosion. Dynamite, secreted into the floor beneath his bed, smashed his bedroom and bed into kindling, bringing the whole assemblage down into the bedroom of the apartment beneath his and stunning the two hooded and trench-coated people who had been waiting in that room as well as leaving Glenn half-deaf and immobile.
A cloaked figure entered the room, carefully thumping the hooded men with a statue to make sure they wouldn’t interfere.
”You deserve more pain than a quick death for your heresy,” said the figure. “But needs must…” He jabbed a syringe into the dazed Glenn, who quickly faded into unconsciousness.
“You can stop this right now,” said another man just entering the room, hat low over his face and a shotgun held tightly in gloved hands. “Your shadow is about to be ‘lit up.’”
“My path is like shining light, that grows in brilliance till perfect day,” said the figure who had stabbed Glenn as he lobbed the statue at the gunman.
The gunman fired, shattering the statue, but never got off a second shot. The syringe, flung just after the statue, had found its mark in the gunman, who dropped without a sound. The dark figure lifted Glenn over his shoulders and made off into the night.
Glenn awoke just before dawn, pulled back into consciousness by the searing pain in his stomach. He couldn’t move. Each of his limbs had been pinned to the flat tarred roof of some building, held down with what looked like horseshoes that had been hammered into the roof. The pain in his lower abdomen was a searing fire, and his left hand felt sore.
His eyes shifted. His hand held the tether of some kind of huge weather balloon, his grip rapidly weakening as he held back the massive lift – yet somehow he knew he shouldn’t let go. On the back of his left hand three lines had been written: “Jeremia, then below that 48:10, and immediately below that the numbers LQKI.” It made no sense. The burning pain grew even more intense. Glenn blinked, weakening, and let go the tether.
Released at last, the weather balloon shot skyward. It’s tether, simple rope at first, had been securely knotted to the severed end of Glenn’s large intestine. The balloon unreeled his viscera at a rapid pace disemboweling him as it raced skyward. As it hit the limit of its new “tether,” the balloon pulled free and floated far and away – away from Fatlington. The “rope” returned to the general vicinity of its dying owner.
Fermanagh’s team had hit the “dry heaves” stage by the time they were able to process the crime scene.
Morning, Day Four:
Fermanagh looked horrible, like he'd been dry-heaving his guts to get ready for his report. He went through the night's events in a numbed fashion, then paused.
"I have to reveal now that I've known Drisos' identity all along, though my team researched everything just to be sure," said Commissioner Fermanagh. "Drisos was a Fatlington detective, and a damned good one. I don't know how those mafia scum found out about him, but I hope you send every last one of them to Hell."
Fermanagh stormed out of the room, visibly shaking. Director Louis VI the Fat took over the meeting, explaining the procedures that would be used at the sunset gathering later.
OOC
Sorry this took so long, but I think you can see why. I'll take a dinner break and then start passing out results PMs.
1. Voting for the Day 4 Lynch will conclude at 2000 HRS EST, 13 Feb 08 (0100 next day GMT). Louis is director and should PM me the particulars to be used.
2. Here’s a Full list of players to date:
Still Alive: (68) ajaxfetish, Alexander the Pretty Good, Andres, Big King Sanctaphrax, Brave Sir Robin, Caeser the III, Caius, Charge, Chimpyang, CountArach, Cowhead418, Craterus, Crazed Rabbit, Draco Leman, Dutch guy, Elite Ferret, Evil_Maniac from Mars, FactionHeir, Fahad I, GeneralHankerchief, gibsonsg91921, Haudegen, Hiji, Husar, Ichigo, Ironside, JimBob, Joe Monks, johnhughthom, Jubal_Barca, Kagemusha, KamiKhaan, Killfr3nzy, Kommodus, KukriKhan, Leet Erikson, LittleGrizzly, Louis VI the Fat, Lt. Pinard, Makanyane, molonthegreat, Moros, Motep, Myrrdraal, Northnovas, norwegian nerd, Omanes Alexandrapolites, Proletariat, Roadkill, Rob_the_Celt, Rythmic, sapi, Sarathos, Sasaki Kojiro, scottishranger, shlin28, Sigurd Fafnesbane, TinCow, Tran, TruePraetorian, Twilightblade, Warluster, Warmaster Horus, woad&fangs, x-dANGEr, Xdeathfire, Xehh II, Xiahou.
Attacked: (12) Andres (N2, N3), Beefy187 (N1), Caius (N3), Evil_Maniac from Mars (N3), Glenn (N1, N2), Xdeathfire (N1), taka (N2), GeneralHankerchief (N2, N3), Cowhead418 (N2)
Murdered: (8) Drisos (N1), Lord Winter (N2), Beefy187 (N3), Glenn (N3), Pannonian (N3), taka (N3), The Stranger (N3), Zorg (N3)
Lynched: (3) pevergreen (D2), Hannibalbarca (D3), Tiberius of the Drake (D3)
Removed from Play: (0) Note: this will begin changing soon.
Get GH. Now.
Vote: GeneralH
Same reason as before
Capotally:Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
My God this was a bloody night.
What I make of the attacks:
taka: Three people, probably vig-killed. Same people as last night?
Caius: I didn't see any calling card, so it looks like a failed vig-kill.
Beefy: This one was a Mafia hit (Bible passages). Same people who tried to get him before/got Lord Winter last time?
EMFM: Blown vig-kill.
Zorg: Successful vig-kill, most likely. I couldn't see any calling card.
Andres: He was protected and a vig-kill failed, apparently. More on this later.
Pannonian: Ballet shoes? I think this one was a Mafia hit.
Stranger: Mafia hit (#4).
GH: Looks like I, along with Beefy and taka, got lucky. From what it reads, it appears to be a vig-kill. Better luck next time, suckers.
Glenn: Mafia hit. Surprising, actually. I thought that there was massive organization surrounding him?
This is just a quick reference guide. I'll post some analysis later (eating time).
Vote: Andres
He's a killer. Though GH is also a good choice. Let's go for the double.
Better to lynch late than expire early.
Lynch tally:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
What worries me is the three weather balloon killings.
CR