And off course, I hope the combination of this innocent looking avatar and the less suspicious sounding name "Andres" will help me in mafia games.
Getting lynched is a very unpleasant experience...
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And off course, I hope the combination of this innocent looking avatar and the less suspicious sounding name "Andres" will help me in mafia games.
Getting lynched is a very unpleasant experience...
Tell me that to me.Quote:
Getting lynched is a very unpleasant experience...
Alright... what is taking so long?
The mafia are having problems deciding who to kill or something?
Is pever a protector or is he infact a suicide bomber with his trigger on the bomb that will put any Casanova into the grave?
Is Sigurd blocking the one performing a hit tonight?
Let us get the answers Kommodus.:whip:
You should addQuote:
Is pever a protector or is he infact a suicide bomber with his trigger on the bomb that will put any Casanova into the grave?
Is Sigurd blocking the one performing a hit tonight?
Know it in the next episode of..Cosa Nuova
Is Sigurd a mafioso who fooled us all an can't wait to celebrate his victory?
You know it is against the rules to claim to be a Mafioso in this game. :beam:Quote:
Originally Posted by Andres
RodaKill had the point.Quote:
Originally Posted by Andres
Kill from the dead land:Sigurd
Mmmmm, interesting. I certainly know I saw him running down the street with a bundle of letters, which included three Ns & a C, under his arm. I didn't think anything of it at the time.Quote:
Originally Posted by Andres
:juggle2:
1. Extremely busy with work right now.Quote:
Originally Posted by Sigurd Fafnesbane
2. Mild case of writer's block.
With luck I hope to get the next installment up tonight.
So high quality work requires a little time? No surprises there. Despite my death, I've very much enjoyed the game thus far. Keep up the fine writing.Quote:
Originally Posted by Kommodus
Huge amounts of alcohol my friend, huge amounts...Quote:
Originally Posted by Kommodus
~:cheers:
Or am i a Battle Mage that has cross-classed with a paladin so i am 3 paly/9 sorcerer, weilding a +2 greataxe of lesser goblin bane that continually casts burning hands and detect secret doors? :inquisitive:
I knew it I was right Sigurd is mafia.
Kommo's boss should be put in jail.
It's not right that his job interferes with the important things in life, like the next write-up in Cosa Nuova II.
And if he is his own boss, Kommo should be put in jail. With a laptop and an internet connection, granting only acces to the Org's gameroom...
Check your doctor :nurse:Quote:
Originally Posted by Andres
Gripping stuff :grin:
sooooo what have i missed?
:laugh4:Quote:
Originally Posted by Twilightblade
The Conquest of the Cosa Nuova
Two anonymous figures peered over the edge, poised on bended knee, and gazed down into the dusty scrubby gully that lay stretched out before them. Despite the increasingly heated urgings of the mid-morning sun and the stifling cloak of humidity, their coarse black woolen cowls remained up around their ears, while rough rope sashes were firmly knotted around their waists. The only part of them that moved was their eyes, which twitched as they scanned the angry gash in the landscape below, lingering over every crevice, every swirl of dust, and every hurried flurry of startled wildlife that they settled upon.
Suddenly, their heads jerked imperceptibly in the same direction; they paused and glanced at each other. Without a sound, they rose to their feet and silently jogged off eastward along the top of the cliff, both with the same methodical shuffle, which looked almost unnatural in its consistency.
As his foot slipped down the face of another rock and sent a sharp twinge up to a gently twisting knee, RoadKill stumbled and sent another expletive flying off into the cliff-face. Ten feet ahead, the implacably Gallic features of Warmaster Horus looked back at his bodyguard, tightened into a disgusted sneer, and turned back to scout his route ahead. He'd ridden in with the so-called UN peacekeeping force in '98 – a thinly-veiled disguise for an intervention by the embarrassed ex-colonial masters – as a political scientist, charged with the job of re-building the institutions of government and to ensure that France's legacy and language retained their primacy in the country. The only institution he'd ended up building was his copper mining business, and the only man he'd enriched was himself. Their 4x4 had ground to a halt up the road by the top of the ravine, coughing and spluttering consumptively as it choked its last. RoadKill had suggested in his usual sullen fashion that following the gully was the shorter way into town.
Ahead of them to the east, the gully was starting to open up a little: the ground underfoot was less rocky and more alluvial; the cliffs on either side seemed to close in less and began to angle up towards the pasture land that lay on the plateau above. RoadKill tapped his master on his shoulder, and proffered him the water-bottle. Horus accepted and drank greedily.
As he tipped it back down, the sharp violent crack of a rifle shot whipped through the air, crashing and reverberating along the gully walls from where they had just come. Both men dove to the ground, seeking cover vainly from some unseen foe. Two more shots in rapid succession followed, but there wasn't the fizz or thud of nearby bullets to cause them any further alarm. They stayed crouched behind some scrub, now with their heads up, looking up the slope ahead in the direction of the noise.
They heard a new sound now, one not as easily recognizable as the last, but just as distinctive. It started as a low bass drumming, one that was constant but irregular and ever-increasing, both in tempo and in proximity. Within seconds, it was a rumble – or more accurately, waves of rumbles, which crashed around their ears as if from both near and far, seeming to shake the very earth beneath their feet.
They grimaced and fixed their eyes on top of the slope in front of them as the first line of black heaving shapes crested the brow of their horizon. The first line begat a second, which blurred into a third, now a fourth, then into a heaving amorphous phalanx pouring over the top, down the slope, and inexorably towards their position. As the realization of this particular horror dawned on both men, they stood and turned as if to flee, but momentarily remained transfixed as they gave the scene one last look to be sure their eyes were not deceived. Only when the lead cow was thirty yards away did they start to run. Primal yells escaped their mouths involuntarily and disappeared into the roaring maelstrom that pursued them. Within seconds, the stampede swallowed them, and they were hauled down onto the floor unceremoniously, limbs jerking like marionettes.
A minute later, when the noise had abated and an eerie stillness pervaded all, two figures with a familiar shambling gait broached the brow of the hill and made their way down to where Warmaster Horus and RoadKill lay. One stooped quickly at each body in turn, checked their necks for the faintest of pulses, and nodded at the other. Two large syringes were produced from the folds of his robe and were plunged roughly into the base of each unconscious victim's spine. The acolytes turned westward, and raised their hand as if in salute to a third figure that stood up on the cliff by their earlier vantage point. The figure lingered there for a moment, then raised his hands up to the brim of his cowl and pushed it back. With one final glance at the slim black PDA in his hand, he turned on his heel and walked slowly away.
…Two days ago…
The color drained from Agent Harrison’s face as he stared at the terminal screen. His hand reached instinctively for the intercom system, and he frantically dialed a number. Speaking into the receiver, he tried to keep his voice calm. “Rowland?” he said. “It’s Agent Bayingana. We’ve lost contact.”
Harrison pulled the receiver back from his ear a little, as the voice on the other end suddenly became so loud that anyone in the room could’ve understood the bitter stream of expletives. After listening for about a minute, he spoke again.
“No… no, it’s too late for that. We’ll never get another agent infiltrated in time… yes, I understand… I agree; containment is our only option at this point. I don’t like it any more than you do, sir… of course. Eradication teams are already being prepped.”
With that, he replaced the receiver and buried his face in his hands. Never had he dreamed he would be complicit in an act such as the one about to be carried out. Deep inside he prayed he would find redemption someday. At this same time, he hoped they would not be too late.
…Present day…
Mayor Rwigema was exasperated. In a little over a week, Gisenyi had been transformed into a virtual ghost town. His frantic appeals to Kigali for reinforcements had gone unheeded, and now most of the few remaining inhabitants were inexplicably nowhere to be found. He moved from house to house, his two-man personal guard in tow, as they searched for signs of life. At last he received an answer when he came to the home of pevergreen.
“Pevergeen! Have Warmaster or RoadKill returned yet?” Pever shook his head, looking puzzled.
“What about HughTower, or Sigurd? Have you seen anyone?”
“I’m afraid not,” replied pever. “I’ve been here the whole morning, and haven’t heard so much as a car engine or the sound of footsteps.”
The mayor signed heavily. “You received my instructions a few days ago, though – did you do what I asked of you?”
“Of course,” replied pevergreen. “For all the good it’s done – not one person fell into my booby trap. It’s as if they somehow knew what I was doing the entire time.”
Rwigema shook his head, seizing pevergreen’s arm. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said urgently. “The only thing we can assume is that we’re too late. We have to get out of here, now!” He and pevergreen, along with the guards, raced out of the house and began to make for one of the only vehicles left in town, the mayor’s camouflage-painted van.
The small group stopped dead in their tracks as three figures stepped out of a building and into the street about thirty yards ahead. Two wore robes and rope sashes, with cowls covering their faces, but the identity of the third was plain for all to see.
“So you’ve finally decided to flee?” shouted HughTower sardonically. “Does this mean the mayor of a dead city is finally read to admit defeat?”
“HughTower!” shouted Rwigema in frustration and anger. “So you’re the one responsible for all this! It’s time to put an end to your insanity!” He motioned to his guards. “Seize him!” he shouted. “I want that man apprehended immediately, dead or alive!”
“Oh, it’s too late for that,” said the grinning HughTower. Out of his cloak he drew a small black PDA and swiftly pressed some buttons on it. The guards which had just began to run towards HughTower and his companions suddenly froze in their tracks. Turning about, they rushed back towards the mayor and pevergreen with jerky yet swift steps.
“Stop! What are you doing?” yelled pevergreen as one of the guards grabbed him by the shoulders. He looked into the man’s face, noticing that his eyes were glazed over and unseeing. He struggled to push the guard away, glancing over to see that mayor Rwigema was engaged in a tussle of his own.
Before pevergreen and Rwigema could get the upper hand, however, HughTower motioned to his two companions. Simultaneously the two men pushed back their cowls to reveal their identities – TwilightBlade and Sigurd Fafnesbane.
The two robed men approached swiftly, and soon the fight was four against two. Faced with such overwhelming odds, pevergreen and the mayor were quickly subdued. “Bind them!” ordered HughTower, and his order was quickly carried out.
The victorious Cosa Nuova operative sauntered over to the glaring mayor. “As you can see, our victory is complete,” he boasted. “The minds of your people now belong to us. No longer will they be used for their own narrow and selfish ends, but for our grand and noble purposes. If you had any sense of how the world is about to change, you would thank us.”
Rwigema shook his head. “I don’t know how you’ve done this, or what you hope to accomplish,” he said, “but after all the suffering and death you’ve caused, I could never believe that the Cosa Nuova cares anything for the good of humanity. Yes, I know about your organization. Terrorists, criminals, and murderers! The entire world hates you, and your twisted scheme will collapse when every government on the planet unites to destroy you!”
HughTower turned his back and walked away a bit. “The world has always hated us,” he mused, “because they do not recognize us.”
He looked back. “But they will recognize us,” he said through gritted teeth. “Our visionary scientists and researchers have expanded our knowledge to unheard-of depths. Oh, you backward people gave us some trouble. You killed one of our finest medical practitioners, Seamus Fermanagh. And I’ve rarely met a man as uniquely clever and creative and greaterkhaan. They were the two who came here with me, and they will be missed. Still, if they could see what will come of their sacrifices, they would be more than satisfied.”
HughTower then glanced from Sigurd to TwilightBlade, then to the two guards. “This small network of minds may not look like much yet,” he said. “Yet even at this early stage, it has proven its worth. These few nodes have collectively managed to crack some of the most complex systems of cryptography in the world… starting with a particularly crucial one.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked pevergreen.
“What I mean,” replied HughTower, “is that while I would like nothing better than to add your minds to our network, we unfortunately do not have the time. Within fifteen minutes this city and an area of five square miles around it will be nothing more than a blackened, smoldering crater.”
Mayor Rwigema glanced at pevergreen, and the color drained from his face.
“Yes, Mr. Mayor,” said HughTower. “You’re not the only ones who knew we were here. There is an organization that will resort to any means to stop our mission – even the destruction of an entire town. We’ve decoded their communications, and there’s no doubt – this entire town is about to be annihilated, just to destroy our experiment.” He snorted derisively. “And they call us barbaric.”
With that he addressed his converts. “It is time for us to make our exit,” he said. “There’s no need to kill these two – an entire flight of bombers is on its way to take care of that for us. Simply make sure they can’t go anywhere.”
Thus, pevergreen and the mayor were dragged, protesting, to an old broken-down car and shoved into the trunk, which was locked securely. Wasting no time, HughTower and his companions headed for Rwigema’s van, and were soon making a quick exit from the doomed city of Gisenyi.
Several minutes later, pevergreen and Rwigema heard a sound like approaching thunder. It was the last thing they heard, as dozens of British bombers zoomed overhead, releasing their payloads. They, along with all that was left of Gisenyi and the surrounding countryside, were incinerated in the blast.
At that moment, a camouflage-painted van carrying five people was crossing the border into the Congo a short distance northeast of the city. HughTower, in the driver’s seat, grinned and chuckled softly. This was only the beginning.
RESULT: COSA NUOVA VICTORY
Final Status List
Murdered
BlackAxe3001 – Night Watchman
GeneralHankerchief
Crazed Rabbit
rdece.jabolko
Kagemusha
discovery1
CountArach
Xehh II
Killfr3nzy – Agent Bayingana, Bodyguard (Envelope Role)
sapi – Night Watchman
AndresTheCunning – Doctor (Envelope Role)
Stig – Night Watchman (Envelope Role)
Warmaster Horus – Vigilante
RoadKill
pevergreen – Dirty Bomb (Envelope Role)
Lynched
Warluster
Tran
Xdeathfire
Sasaki Kojiro
Dutch_guy
greaterkhaan – Cosa Nuova
Seamus Fermanagh – Cosa Nuova
Caius Flaminius
Suicide
Omanes Alexandrapolites the Idiot
Ichigo
Died of Mysterious Causes
Ignoramus
Motep
Myrddraal
Destroyer of Hope
Still Alive
HughTower – Cosa Nuova
TwilightBlade – Cosa Nuova (Converted Night 4)
Sigurd Fafnesbane – Role-blocker (Envelope Role), Cosa Nuova (Converted Night 8)
haha
Great game Kommo!
Fantastic game Kommodus :bow:
@the CN
Good work!
Did you actually know who you were killing, or was it just random?
Aggh! If only Andres had not have protected me!!!!
Congrats CN!
I knew all along who you were...
GAH! And I was sure the town would be able to last one more turn...
Well played Cosa Nuova. It's a good thing we at least lynched two of you. Shows we're not entirely incompetent.
Great game, Kommodus. Very nice, and very enjoyable. Should we expect a write-up, soon?
Great game, Kommodus, really enjoyed it as you can imagine!Quote:
Originally Posted by sapi
A fuller answer to this question will come in our write-up, but the only totally random role-kill on our part was the BlackAxe at the beginning, the others had varying degrees of estimation.
I'll try & put a write-up over the next 3 or 4 days, but in meantime I'd like to congratulate my esteemed colleagues, Khaan & Seamus, & also,Blade & Sigurd, for their significant support. :2thumbsup:
Good game town.
And if you hadn't revealed ...Quote:
Originally Posted by pevergreen
Great game Kommodus, and HURRRRAY!! long live the mafia :2thumbsup:.
Sigurd's right. You weren't very subtle pevergreen, with your "attack me CN, go on!" and "why won't anyone attack me?".
:beam:
Ah well, I dont think not revealing would have done anything, TB would have attacked me, and we would have been a townie down.
I'm awfully pissed off