Spirit Mafia [Concluded]

[CountArach]

And CR do pose a interesting question. If Kukri and CA knew eachother's roles early in the game, why not resurrect the detective and protect him? Why wait until the game is nigh to twelve?

I really don't know. In my head we had a reason, but I'm not sure.

[seireikhaan]

As a heads up, this round will last approximately another 45 minutes to 1 hour.

[KukriKhan]

Tally:

Glyphz 1 (Kukri)
shlin28 4 (GH, CR, Glyphz, Chaotix27)
Sigurd: 1 (YLC)
Chaotix 1 (shlin28)
GH 1 (Sigurd)

Why did I not raise YLC earlier? I should have done it 2 nights ago, looking back. I thought a pro-town killer might yet show up, but he never did. Just the same 3 bad guys (I think). And, to be honest, there was so little public action in this game, I thought makaikhaan might get frustrated and just chuck the whole thing, due to lack of interest. So, I bidded my time. When we got down to 8 players, with 3 mafia probably still loose, I knew it was "now or never", so raised up YLC, who I was still not positive (but 85% so) was a legit detective.

If we lose because I waited too long, I'll accept the blame.

[seireikhaan]

Tally:

Glyphz 1 (Kukri)
shlin28 4 (GH, CR, Glyphz, Chaotix27)
Sigurd: 1 (YLC)
Chaotix 1 (shlin28)
GH 1 (Sigurd)

Ah, good timing Kukri, I was just doing the tally myself.

Lynch writeup commencing. shlin28 has been lynched. Any with orders may begin sending them now.

[seireikhaan]

Makaikhaan stepped from his bed chamber, not eager for another day of no discussion. He was seriously considering abandoning this approach, as few, if any, had seemed to take it seriously. However, as the day's argumentation advanced, he was pleasantly surprised by the new, improves, atmosphere of challenging discussion which went back and forth. After what felt like a fruitful process, Shlin28 was chosen nearly unanimously. As Makaikhaan called him forward, Shlin28 had a gloomy look on his face, as though he had been anticipating the call for his death. Two guards rushed behind him and held him down, extending his head to expose as much as neck as possible for Makaikhaan to slice. Makaikhaan held his sword high, and brought it down with gusto, excited that possibly something had been achieved by the castle populace. When Shlin28's head was severed, however, it appeared to bleed just like every other human. Regardless, Makaikhaan dismissed everyone for the night, hoping for the best.


Tally:

shlin28 4(GH, CR, Glyphz, Chaotix27)
Glyphz 1 (Kukri)
Sigurd: 1 (YLC)
Chaotix 1 (shlin28)
GH 1 (Sigurd)


Killed: 14

Lord Winter (N1)
EliteFerret (N1)
Northnovas (N1)
Fahad I (N2)
Rythmic (N2)
YourLordandConqueror (N3)
Aries777777 (N3)
Warmaster Horus (N3)
Woad&Fangs (N4)
Quintus J.C. (N4)
Anelious Phyros(N5)
Caius (N5)
El Diablo (N5)
CountArach (N6)

Lynched: 6

Ibn-Khaldun (D1)
Ichigo (D2)
FactionHeir (D3)
LittleGrizzly (D4)
Omanes Alexandropolites (D5)
Shlin28 (D6)

Suicide/WoG: 2

Ignoramus
Sarathos

Alive: 7

Chaotix27
CrazedRabbit
GeneralHankerchief
glyphz
KukriKhan
Sigurd Fafnesbane
YourLordandConqueror


Round will last 24 hours.

[KukriKhan]

Makaikhaan held his sword high, and brought it down with gusto, excited that possibly something had been achieved by the castle populace. When Shlin28's head was severed, however, it appeared to bleed just like every other human.

Damn. Another townie.

FoS: GH, CR, Glyphz who voted shlin's lynch. Chaotix I saw as a reflex, defense vote.

YLC: your instincts have been good this game, so please investigate whomever you choose. I suspect the above 3. But I back any choice you make.

[CountArach]

I would perhaps suggest GH. As I said earlier, the pattern of killings seems very much like what Hanky would do.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Not like it matters since I'm going to be lynched next anyway, but I'm not mafia. You guys are wasting your time.

[FactionHeir]

I think Sigurd and glyphz are definite mafia. Not sure which of GH and Chaotix are, but more likely Chaotix.

[seireikhaan]

Alright, I have everything I need, writeups commencing now.

[seireikhaan]

Sigurd Fafnesbane returned to his room following the day's lynch, hoping to get in some practice on his favored shamisen before he got too tired. He closed the door to his room, then laid out the delicate instrument before him. As per a personal superstition, he sat cross-legged before it, beginning his meditation regimine. Roughly 30 minutes later, he opened his eyes and adjusted his posture, feeling quite relaxed and ready to begin his practice. He reached out his hand to pick up the instrument, only to receive a static shock from it. Shaking his hand, he reached out with the other, only to have it receive a similar treatment. Sigurd Fafnesbane just sat there, quite puzzled as to why his instrument kept electrocuting him.

However, his puzzlement was quickly interrupted by his door slamming open, to be replaced with shock. A tall humanoid being stood in the doorway, light purple sparks urgently dancing about it's skin. It turned its head to face Sigurd Fafnesbane, a scowl overtaking its face. The being raised a hand, and seemingly at will, called for the sparks go gather in his hand. And within one second, it jammed its hand towards Sigurd Fafnesbane, the gathered charged particles releasing from its skin, shooting instantly towards Sigurd Fafnesbane. There was not a chance to dodge; electricity charged through his body, killing the nerve endings quickly, before liquifying internal organs and burning skin. So fortunately for Sigurd, his death was at least mostly painless.

An ever so slight creek echoed from down the hall. The being's head swiveled, then back to the room at hand; it spotted the 2 foot by 2 foot window in the northern wall. Without a word, the being dove from a standing position into the air, and through the window with a crash, out into the near pitch-black of the courtyard.


YLC crept down his current hallway, a small knife in hand. He stopped at each corner, careful to peer around each one, clearly looking to avoid contact with others. He reached a t-corner, and after taking care to determine the coast was clear, he took a left. After 2 seconds down his new hall, a finger tapped on his shoulder. YLC jumped slightly; he had been sure the coast was clear. He turned around, and came face to face with a familiar person. "You?!" He whispered. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

A kindly, gentle, bald old man smiled whistfully back at him. "Me? Oh, I just like people. How are you doing?"

YLC raised an eyebrow quizzically. What kind of response was that? What kind of question is that to ask someone who just spent a few days dead? "Look, can you just be quiet?" he requested.

"Oh, sure, just pretend I'm not here. I'll tag along a while longer, however," the old man responded, a smile still adorning his face. Still quite puzzled by this old ma, YLC nevertheless continued onwards. Amazingly the old man actually managed to be even quieter than YLC.

As YLC neared a room at the end of the hallway, the hair on his arms and head began to stand on end. The air had an strange, unsettling feeling to it. YLC was caught off guard temporarily by the change in atmosphere. His left foot sank just slightly further on the wooden floorboard than he had intended, and a slight creak echoed through the hall. "Damn!" YLC cursed to himself. However, out of the silence something even louder pierced. A loud crash came from the hall at the end of the hallway, like glass being shattered. Abandoning pretense of silence, YLC ran down to the room, through the opened door, and found the deceased body of Sigurd. Once more, YLC cursed to himself.

His self-reprimanding was quickly ceased however, by the old man. "Something's coming," he warned to YLC. The smile was no longer present on the old man's face. True enough, when YLC looked back down the hall, a dark skinned creature, wearing naught but a leapord skin around its waist, with a large bag in its left hand. It spotted both YLC and the old man. The being grabbed the opening of the bag with its right hand, and held it open to the two. A gale of wind came from it. However, the instant the bag had opened, twelve ancient looking spirits rose from nothingness around the old man. YLC's head spun as the gale met the twelve spirits, and the wind, instead of blowing them away, was redirected as though by an invisible force surrounding the twelve upwards, smashing a giant hole in the ceiling, causing numerous boards, nails, and bits of metal to fall into the hall. The twelve spirits, each armed with a gleaming naginata, rushed in formation, flying above the scraps on the floor, forming a wall of blade towards the dark attacker. Recognizing it could not defeat the twelve spirits, it fell back from whence it came, retreating as fast as possible to avoid a further confrontation. Oddly, as it was disappearing, a small laugh, almost a titter was heard. heeehehee....



YLC, as the last steps of the dark, wind-wielding attacker were heard, took out his knife once more. The old man turned to him, a smile once more upon its face. However, the smile quickly turned to shock; YLC had rammed the knife through his own neck. Blood spilled out through the vital arteries and veins, yet YLC held the knife firmly, even going so far as to rip it downwards into his collarbone, opening up even further wounds. And with little to no warning, the hand, as well as 90% of the rest of his body went limp. The lungs throat still throttled for oxygen, as well as the head, for similar reasons, for about six seconds before they too stopped movement completely. A frown overtook the old man's face. Eyes teared up, but there was little to be done by this point. The old man nevertheless picked up the body, and began a descent to the courtyard and beyond, to give the man a proper resting place.



Killed: 16

Lord Winter (N1)
EliteFerret (N1)
Northnovas (N1)
Fahad I (N2)
Rythmic (N2)
YourLordandConqueror (N3)
Aries777777 (N3)
Warmaster Horus (N3)
Woad&Fangs (N4)
Quintus J.C. (N4)
Anelious Phyros(N5)
Caius (N5)
El Diablo (N5)
CountArach (N6)
YourLordandConqueror (N7)
SigurdFafnesbane (N7)

Lynched: 6

Ibn-Khaldun (D1)
Ichigo (D2)
FactionHeir (D3)
LittleGrizzly (D4)
Omanes Alexandropolites (D5)
Shlin28 (D6)

Suicide/WoG: 2

Ignoramus
Sarathos

Alive: 5

Chaotix27
CrazedRabbit
GeneralHankerchief
glyphz
KukriKhan



This round will last approximately 24 hours.

[GeneralHankerchief]

One fine morning in the Scottish Highlands I was up early, taking a stroll and enjoying nature in its most unspoiled time of day, when the loud tremors of human hurry had yet to commence and where a still calm still reigned. I had been walking for about 45 minutes, wearing denim jeans, an old “Live Aid Philadelphia” T-shirt, and a vest, for while it was only September the air already had a chilly bite to it. There was a small grove of trees to my left and as I was passing it by, a little gray squirrel skipped out and stopped right in front of me. It looked up at my face for a second, paused, and said “Excuse me sir, but did you know that Washington, DC was built on a swamp?”

“Why no Mr. Squirrel, I did not,” I said. “What an interesting fact.” The squirrel nodded. “Yes, I thought so too,” he said, for he was definitely a he; this was discernable even in spite of the squirrel’s high-pitched voice. “It is such an exciting thing to discover someone who shares my passion for geographically-related architectural history, especially at this lovely hour in the morning, which is nature’s most unspoiled time of day.”

“Would you like to pick some berries for the day’s enjoyment with me?” I said, to which the squirrel responded: “I ordinarily prefer acorns and the like, but in such good company I am inclined to forgo my usual repast in favor of my company’s preference.” So the two of us went out and picked a good many berries, feasting on them and sharing more geographically-related architectural history facts, all the while telling each other more about ourselves.

“O Mr. Squirrel,” I said after popping a berry in my mouth, “I am enjoying our time together, but a greater concern lies in my mind which is somewhat spoiling this interesting occasion. In yonder town, there resides a lovely young maiden whom I have desires to marry, but alas! I have neither the money to provide for her nor the courage to approach her. We are friends now, but I would be forever indebted to you if you could assist me with this matter.” The squirrel paused from picking berries and regarded me for over a minute before giving his advice. “These matters are never easy to deal with,” he said with an air of knowledge of the subject. “In your case, I recommend that you forget the money issue since there is nothing you can do about it, living in the Scottish Highlands and picking berries in the morning for leisure. Should you love her and care for her enough, you will provide more than a rich but unloving man can ever do for a wife.”

“You are so wise, Mr. Squirrel,” I said, “but what to do about the courage problem? For I can love her and care for her enough, but I will never be able to do these things if I cannot even talk to her.” The squirrel sighed, and then spoke once more. “You only have this problem once,” he said, “for after the first contact everything will go smoother. Therefore, I can only suggest that you get it over with now so you will never have to deal with it again, at least in matters regarding your maiden in yonder town.” So the two of us ceased our berry-picking and made our way to yonder town, which bore the official name of Yonder Town, and spied the maiden on a pleasant little side street, wearing a lilac dress and carrying a basket, whistling a merry tune.

On the squirrel’s prodding, I walked right up to the maiden and asked: “What’s the basket for?” She looked at me for the first time, turned red, and giggled, telling me that she had just bought an assortment of berries at the local market and was returning home to give them to her mother for a birthday present. “What a nice gesture,” I said, “Your mother will surely appreciate it. But why buy berries at the local market when you can go out in the Highlands and pick them yourself? You know, I do just that, generally in the morning, which is nature’s most unspoiled time of day.” So the conversation continued splendidly and arrangements were made to meet the very next morning to pick some berries, in the Highlands in the morning, which is nature’s most unspoiled time of day. The squirrel and I retired to my home, where we celebrated the end of what had been a fulfilling day.

Two months passed, and the relationship between myself and the lovely young maiden down in yonder town which was called Yonder Town was going splendidly, and whatever time I did not spend with her I spent with my good friend the squirrel. We were currently in the midst of an intellectual discourse on the greatest literary giants of the first half of the twentieth century when the conversation veered off, as things usually do.

“My friend,” he said to me, “I have done you a great favor since we met two months ago, have I not?” I agreed, for indeed, he had. “Then,” he said, “Would you mind repaying me?” I once again agreed, for indeed, we were friends, and was that not what friends did? He said, “I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here, but alas, I fear it is at an end. For while we are in Scotland, I am a North American squirrel and it is about time for me to return home.”

“No problem,” I said, “for who am I to deny someone the simple wish that they return to the land they know best? Yes, I will call the airport tonight to get us tickets; I believe Edinburgh has regular flights to-“ but the squirrel cut me off, shaking his head at me. “Nay, nay,” he said sadly, “a plane will not do. You could be in grave trouble if the authorities present at the airport found you trying to smuggle a squirrel into the country, and I do not know if my tiny body mass would be able to handle the sudden changes in air pressure that flight brings about. We must sail, you and I, across the Atlantic, to return to my birthplace.”

So a boat was commandeered and piloted by myself and the squirrel, taking rotating shifts. We continued to make conversation, more this time about maritime lore due to circumstances, as well as the lovely young maiden from Yonder Town which was no longer yonder town, since there was no town in sight. She had been understanding, of course, but now she was far behind, and there was just the squirrel and I, the squirrel and I sailing into a deadly storm. The worst part was the wind, but that didn’t affect the squirrel since he just went to the lee side of the boat and hunkered down, but there was the rain and the lightning, one of which flashed brilliantly and came down in an instant on the boat-

One fine morning in the United States, I was up early, having been jolted out of bed by a shock in my recent dream. I looked around for a couple of seconds, blinked, and then heard a slight tapping on my window. I opened it up and the next thing I knew, a little gray squirrel skipped up and stopped right in front of me. It looked up at my face for a second, paused, and said “Excuse me sir, but did you know that Washington, DC was built on a swamp?”

Vote: KukriKhan

[Crazed Rabbit]

YLC's head spun as the gale met the twelve spirits, and the wind, instead of blowing them away, was redirected as though by an invisible force surrounding the twelve upwards, smashing a giant hole in the ceiling, causing numerous boards, nails, and bits of metal to fall into the hall. The twelve spirits, each armed with a gleaming naginata, rushed in formation, flying above the scraps on the floor, forming a wall of blade towards the dark attacker. Recognizing it could not defeat the twelve spirits, it fell back from whence it came, retreating as fast as possible to avoid a further confrontation. Oddly, as it was disappearing, a small laugh, almost a titter was heard. heeehehee....



YLC, as the last steps of the dark, wind-wielding attacker were heard, took out his knife once more. The old man turned to him, a smile once more upon its face. However, the smile quickly turned to shock; YLC had rammed the knife through his own neck. Blood spilled out through the vital arteries and veins, yet YLC held the knife firmly, even going so far as to rip it downwards into his collarbone, opening up even further wounds. And with little to no warning, the hand, as well as 90% of the rest of his body went limp. The lungs throat still throttled for oxygen, as well as the head, for similar reasons, for about six seconds before they too stopped movement completely.

Yay for teamwork!

LoL, nice post GH.

Crazed Rabbit

[KukriKhan]

Ahhh. More Sturm und Drang.

Alive: 5

Chaotix27
CrazedRabbit
GeneralHankerchief
glyphz
KukriKhan

Two, (2!) killers remain. We got one, and currently outnumber the maf 3:2 (or else it would be 'game over' now).

Which 2 of

Chaotix27
CrazedRabbit
GeneralHankerchief
glyphz

is mafia, which 2 town?

GH decides to play the joker, and copy/paste a mildly-interesting, but irrelevant squirrel story and vote for a proved town role. He's just being silly, I'm afraid.

To me, the most suspicious is Crazed Rabbit, who usually has plenty to say, lots of analysis, precise point-by-point questioning (as demonstrated by his interrogation of YLC on the previous page). He is sadly, and revealingly, quiet now.

vote: Crazed Rabbit

Let's knock 'em off, 1-by-1, sez I. After CR, we'll see.

---------------------------

Tally:

KukriKhan: 1 (GH)
CrazedRabbit: 1 (Kukri)

[Crazed Rabbit]

Oh, Kukri. I am taking more delight in this than I should, I know. I'm sorry, it's not terribly classy.

But does it not seem odd that there are only five alive:
Every single person who voted for shlin last round,

and you.

You, the only player who could not be killed in the night.

You call me mafia? I am no pathetic mafia, but Fujin, God of Wind, come here to topple Makaikhaan from his throne!

So I shall do with a vote what my bag of wind could not, in the night.

vote: Kukri

Crazed Rabbit

[GeneralHankerchief]

*titter*

BTW, I may have copy/pasted that squirrel story, but I wrote it myself. Delve into it carefully, for hidden inside is the key to the entire game.

[glyphz]

Vote: Crazed Rabbit

So CR was mafia all along...
We just need Chaotix to vote

[Sigurd]

For GH and CR to be confident enough to 'reveal' means that they are sure to win. To me it seems YLAC was double tagged and we have not 2 killers left but three. Notice that YLAC dies like he did before by taking his life. This is the same way El Diablo died.
That means Chatorix might be the last killer.

The game is over and I suspect it was over with the lynching of shlin28.

Unless ... the town got an ace up their sleeve

[ULC]

Yet the game continues...why? I think there is more to this then what we are seeing...hmm, betrayal? Can the mafia trust themselves now? One wonders. It would be the height of irony to have the mafia think they have won when they are betrayed by "one of their own"

[KukriKhan]

How Chaotix27 votes, will determine the outcome. :crosses fingers:

Tally:

KukriKhan: 2 (GH, CR)
CrazedRabbit: 2 (Kukri, glyphz)

[Sigurd]

No word from Chatorix?

Ah well then... Let's pull the ace from our sleeve shall we?
I am the master sho player and my music will be remembered upon my death. The tunes lingering in the halls of makaikhaan will effect the vote. I am upon death allowed to place a vote every other round.

vote: CR

[woad&fangs]

awsomeness

[glyphz]

Ah well then... Let's pull the ace from our sleeve shall we?
I am the master sho player and my music will be remembered upon my death. The tunes lingering in the halls of makaikhaan will effect the vote. I am upon death allowed to place a vote every other round.

I'm not gonna ask makaikhaan to confirm your ability, but I must say that is a pretty slick ability (and most unexpected).

Unfortunately, lynching CR isn't in my best interest.
Just wanted to see what would happen...
Unvote: Crazed Rabbit

Let's see if things get more interesting...
Vote: General Hankerchief

OH DRAMA, INDEED!
Tally:

KukriKhan: 2 (GH, CR)
CrazedRabbit: 2 (Kukri, Sigurd)
GeneralHankerchief: 1 (glyphz)

[Crazed Rabbit]

unvote: Kukri

vote: GeneralHankerchief

Sorry, but I don't think a serial killer can win if the mafia are left alive. This is, sadly, the only prudent path.

No word from Chatorix?

Ah well then... Let's pull the ace from our sleeve shall we?
I am the master sho player and my music will be remembered upon my death. The tunes lingering in the halls of makaikhaan will effect the vote. I am upon death allowed to place a vote every other round.

vote: CR

Hey, I didn't make people kill themselves (and not twice at that, heehee).

EDIT: Tally:
KukriKhan: 1 (GH)
CrazedRabbit: 2 (Kukri, Sigurd)
GeneralHankerchief: 2 (glyphz, CR)

CR

[Chaotix]

Sorry, GH. You should have killed me when you had the chance. Now you are the last obstacle on the path to my victory. Lynch the killer!

Vote: GeneralHankerchief

PS: Hilarious story, though.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Who says I'm a serial killer?

[Crazed Rabbit]

What are you then?

EDIT: I'll be in the chat.

CR

[El Diablo]

Forget this mafia thing with all the high drama...

What happened with the Squirrel?
Did he find the love of his life?

P.S. I could not find Yonder Town on any map of the highlands so I suspect our author may be scum...


Be warned...

[ULC]

And of course I have to be killed off before this all happens .

[Crazed Rabbit]

And of course I have to be killed off before this all happens .

Of course. Even the twelve guardian spirits could not save you!

Anyways, my fellow gods, please go to our secret lair, something to discuss.

CR