Capo di Tutti Capi III [Concluded]

[ULC]

Can his plan truly be all that cunning if everyone already knows about it?

That's why it is so cunning, since it's deceptive as well. We know of it, but because we know of it, we think we are prepared for it.

[Askthepizzaguy]

Can his plan truly be all that cunning if everyone already knows about it?

That's the most cunning part of his plan. By making everyone aware of it, he believes that it has a higher chance of success. Take Sasaki for example. Everyone knows he wanted to go mafia earlier in the game. He probably still has that goal. But the genius of the plan is that it is old news, and no one cares.

Just let the town know what you're doing, and they might allow it to happen, I guess.



EDIT: Dang you YLC, get out of my brain.

[a completely inoffensive name]

After a short break and school in full swing I just want this game to move quicker.

[Sigurd]

Can his plan truly be all that cunning if everyone already knows about it?

Andres is not Cunning anymore.

[pevergreen]

Wasn't it you that got rid of that title?

AndresTheCunningakaAndrestheNOTSOCunning anymore?

[Andres]

Can his plan truly be all that cunning if everyone already knows about it?

Ah, but the cunning part of the plan is that you all think that you know about the cunning plan, but in fact, there is no plan!

The cunningness of the plan lies in its' non-existence!


Did that make sense?

[Askthepizzaguy]

Is it possible your plan is SO cunning that you're the only one who is not aware of it?

[Andres]

Is it possible your plan is SO cunning that you're the only one who is not aware of it?

Hmmm...

Apparently, I'm cunning and senile

Who are you btw? Why am I posting here? What's the meaning of life?

[scottishranger]

Who is John Galt?

[Seamus Fermanagh]

Sicker than a dog, what a way to fly. I'll take night nine orders through 8AM tomorrow, then write it up sometime thereafter. Thanks for all the patience.

[Seamus Fermanagh]

Summary of Events, Night Nine


Andres had just exited the bar at the Hotel Abbatoir when he noticed a blast of flame a few stories up on a building in the distance….just about exactly from the location of his new and hastily-rented apartment. He paused for a moment, and then a black glossy-leather clad arm stretched around him and gently steered him to a new path into Seaside Park. As he could plainly see the glint of a throwing knife in the figure’s other hand and the haft of a pole-sword angling forward over the man’s shoulder, he did not make any sudden moves and went quietly, at least for now.

“Andres, Andres, Andres, do you not see? Can you not follow the pattern?
Ah well, no matter the reason…you are to be my audience this night.”

They walked briskly through Seaside Park, then quietly covered the mile from the park to the wharf district in a little over 20 minutes. Andres glanced around, looking for opportunities to escape, but saw none that wouldn’t have earned him a blade before he could get far enough to make a difference.

They entered a disused warehouse half a block off the canal. Gently prodded by the ashanderei, Andres found himself in the middle of the warehouse floor, its old wooden beams and boards thoroughly soaked and standing puddles everywhere. The dim light coming through the skylights above was enough to reveal 5 huge glass containers hanging from the beams above the wet floor. Andres couldn’t see what was inside in the dim light, but had a suspicion that they would be gold in color.

"If you look carefully, you will see the path to the door…"

The black-clad stranger then stepped through the doorway himself and in an almost impossibly fast whirl of steel, sent five kunai spinning into the darkened warehouse as Andres ducked low. Each blade severed the rope suspending one of the glass bottles which fell and shattered, scattering their powder on the wet floor. The resultant flame blast from the mixture was just as intense as Andres had remembered…but there was some sort of a path. Andres didn’t hesitate, but pushed himself through the opening in the swirling flame, following the path as it wound to the large loading door street-side. Though debris fell on him and the flames seared his exposed skin, Andres suffered nothing harsher than a sunburn while wending his way through the flames to the street.

Arriving at the door, Andres beheld a line of cars – all covered in what appeared to be a powdery gold paint – and wanted no part of it. He stepped to the side, intending to avoid the cars and head along the side of the burning warehouse to the cross street. Three flashes of silver whipped in front of his eyes, the kunai sparking off the pavement in front of him in a perfect line with the path he had intended to take. Gulping, Andres reversed himself and hopped off the loading platform, beginning his walk between the cars.

As he came near each car, the dark stranger flung bottles of water onto the vehicle, each vehicle flaming in succession as the water sprayed onto the golden powder in the “paint” that had been applied. Andres walk became a run, then a sprint as he strove to get away from the heat blasts, each one painful to his lightly singed skin. He went full-bore for more than a quarter mile before stopping – in a well-lit and busy area.
Andres made his way home reasonably quickly from there. As he’d suspected, it HAD been his apartment that had been roasted. The engine crew that had arrived to put out the flames were finishing their task as Andres stood there, looking up at the burnt windows of his rooms. A motorcycle idled into the street a few feet behind him.

"Well Andres tonight's show is over, but there is always tomorrow if you like."

With a laugh, the black-clad stranger goosed the throttle of his Triumph and quickly zipped away into the night. Andres headed back to the bar.


It had been decided that Pannonian would commit suicide by “jumping” from the roof of Mercy Hospital – one of only two structures in all of Fatlington, that exceeded 20 stories in height.

The plan had started well enough. One man stepped out in front of Pannonian with a leveled shotgun and Pannonian had leapt to the side only to run into the tip of his second assailant’s strategically placed – and drug laced – umbrella. Pannonian had collapsed and the rest had been a simple matter of transport.

Using a hospital gurney, the two assailants – conveniently masked – had rolled him into the elevator and up to the 28th floor. From there, they’d had to carry him to the roof. Nobody was quite sure why the top two floors of Mercy hadn’t been completed, just that you had to wander around a silly maze of half-constructed walls, up one stairwell, and up one ladder to access the roof. Nevertheless, Pannonian made the trip. He was then given the opportunity to prove he could fly while not possessing either wings or consciousness.

Then the laws of chance intervened. The collar of his trench coat caught on a protruding metal corner and, rather than simply tearing away as he fell, tore in a long rolling strip that ended up functioned as some kind of rope bringing Pannonian almost to a stop at around 3 floors down. The wind whipped him sideways, tearing the “rope” and renewing his fall, but had carried him far enough sideways to land on and collapse an awning over one of the patient “viewing” balconies on the 20th floor. The collapse of the awning absorbed almost all of the momentum he’d picked up after falling the 60-odd feet to the awning. Orderlies quickly rushed to Pannonian’s aid while two men quietly made their way off the roof of the hospital.


Diana Abnoba [I]wasn’t going to trust to luck anymore – she’d assumed that she’d used hers up a few nights back. Trips to and from the committee meetings – and anywhere else for that matter, were accomplished in her new, and pretty well armored, Ford. This time, however, she’d been stopped by a police officer.

“But I WASN”T speeding,” said Diana. “It’s posted 35 and I was doing 30!”

And she had been. This was not sufficient enough, however, to prevent her being stopped by a cop who’d been paid $50 to stop her as a joke.

“Ma’am, again, license and registration plea….”

The officer stopped mid-word, his eye’s bulging and opened wide with shock. He fell forward onto Diana’s lap – she’d had to open the door as the armored windows did not roll down – causing her to yelp in surprise. She looked up just in time to take the second pair of .28 Beretta slugs through her left eye, dying even more quickly than the cop who’d taken the first pair of slugs to his medulla – conveniently exposed as he bent to talk to Diana – a second before.

The killer let the gun fall to the ground, removed a violin bow from his pocket and placed the bow on Diana’s body, and then walked away from the scene.


DisgruntledGoat had been working on his paranoia steadily as events unfolded in Fatlington. He now wore armor – quite a lot of it – and was always armed. He ate his meal in a private room at the restaurant, with his gun ready to “greet” anyone but the proprietor who entered. He’d even hired a couple of private security types to go first through doorways and to start his car for him.

What got him was simple volume of fire. As he left the restaurant, one guard leading the way while the other started the car, 5 different shooters opened up with their Thompsons from varying ranges. While the shooters weren’t strictly “religious” types – their aim was pretty solid – they certainly did not believe in 3-4 shot bursts. All 5 drum magazines were unloaded in seconds with shots hammering the guard to the ground and shattering both his legs, shots hammering the doors and windows of the bistro, and shots slamming into Goat’s armor and pinning him to the door frame. The closest shooter had slammed at least half of his rounds into Goat’s armor from less than 15 feet.

The armor had worked, but no armor made could have warded off that many repeated impacts that close together. Bleeding from several wounds in the arms and legs, as well as from numerous internal injuries caused by the repeated impact of so many rounds, DisgruntledGoat bled to death before help could arrive.


Sasaki Kojiro was at a bit of a loss. Somehow a stop at the Abbatoir bar didn’t feel right anymore, and the death of the counterman at his favorite coffee shop had closed that establishment too. He decided to head to his apartment and have a nightcap there.

He had less than a block to go when the man turned the corner. Hat pulled low over his eyes and collar up, it would have been tough to identify him under any circumstances. It was even harder to try to identify him as he was also firing a .45 ACP from each hand as he ran at Sasaki. Sasaki jumped to the side, putting a car between himself and the heavy pistol rounds. Both pistols clicked onto empty chambers.

“This is only the first wave!” Screamed the shooter as he kept running past Sasaki and went around the corner into the darkness. “The FIRST!”

Sasaki sat there only for a moment. He then stood up from between the two bullet-battered cars and walked carefully towards his apartment building door. He was particularly wary. One thing was for certain in the mind of any resident of any seaside town. Waves just keep coming.


Sigurd was ready for an attack, but like so many before him he wasn’t expecting it to come in the form of a 6’ tall rabbit wielding a double-barreled shotgun. The bunny had leveled and fired on him before he though to take any evasive action.

Others, however, HAD reacted in time. Between Sigurd and the rabbit, a pair of large steel cellar doors had opened up, revealing the access to the storeroom below….and intercepting both of the shotgun’s heavy slugs. Firepower coming out of the nearby windows quickly convinced the rabbit to make his escape.

Sigurd’s second would-be assassin had been frustrated by a trio of vans pulling up between him and Sigurd. The second shooter’s first blast had been intercepted by the armored side of the van and ricochets had nearly come right back at their firer. This second gunman also faded into the darkness.


Later that night, Moros sat drinking a last whiskey before heading home. It tasted sour.

“That was awful, Hank,” said Moros, making a face. “What did you put in there?”

“Nothing,” said Hank, “Just the first of a new bottle.”

Hank sniffed the bottle, surprised at the slightly sour aroma.

“Something IS bad with this one,” he said. “I’ll pitch this one out and tomorrow’s is on me.”

Moros smiled back, nodded, and then left the bar for home.

Meanwhile, the man dressed as a Fatlington Police Officer, badge #5, who had been sitting in the far corner of the taproom, pulled his hat even lower over his eyes and then made his way out of the bar as well. The odds of a person being immune to that powerful soporific were about 1 in every 50 million people. Some people are just a bit luckier than others. The fake officer shook his head, frustrated, as he made his way out into the darkness.


Morning Session, Day Ten


“…So that’s how things went last night,” finished Fermanagh.

“We’ve got two more post-mortem deep searches to report: Rhyfelwyr and Warmaster Horus.”

“Horus was just an innocent townie caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rhyfelwyr is a lot harder to figure. He did, apparently, have a criminal background and was probably a wiseguy. However, our sources indicate he was working to protect some of the other members on the committee.”

“I’d say we’d obviously done the wrong thing here if I hadn’t come across some other unusual evidence. Rhyfelwyr was found to be in possession of 8 different false passports, a microfilm camera, union organizing materials for 6 different trade unions and a rather cryptic thank you note, laminated, which had been signed by someone named ‘Lavrenti.’ Obviously, we’re looking into that further.”

“Good luck with your deliberations.”

As Commissioner Fermanagh left the room, the new Director began discussing procedures for the upcoming lynch vote. Another day had dawned.



OOC

Voting will conclude at 1400 Monday 7 September Eastern (1800 GMT). Sorry for the slow turn around, but I am still sicker than a puppy and need my sleep.



The Cost of Life in Fatlington:

Attacked: Beefy187 (n1, n6), DJGingivtis (n2), GSC (n2), Beskar (n3), Double A (n3), Lord Winter (n3, n5), Andres (n4, n9), Diana Abnoba (n4), Reenk Roink (n4), Iskander3.1 (n5), Proletariat (n5, n5, n7, n7), TinCow (n6), Shinseikhaan (n7), Centurion1 (n8), Sasaki Kojiro (n8, n9), Moros (n9), Pannonian (n9), Sigurd (n9)

Killed: Quintus.JC (n1), The Stranger (n1), Death is Yonder (n2), pevergreen (n2), Yaropolk (n2), Myrddraal (n3), Jolt (n4), Craterus (n5), johnhughthom (n5), Leet Erickson (n5), Psychonaut (n5), Iskander3.1 (n6), Khazaar (n6), Kommodus (n6), scottishranger (n6), Aggonyduck (n8), Beskar (n8), Cultured Drizzt Fan (n8), glyphz (n8), shlin28 (n8), Diana Abnoba (n9), DisgruntledGoat (n9)

Lynched: Factionheir (d2), CountArach (d3), GeneralHankerchief (d3), discovery1 (d4), atheotes (d5), A Very Super Market (d6), Kagemusha (d6), Rhyfelwher (d7), Ironside (d8), DJGingivtis (d9),

Wogged: Nole4694 (n5), Truepraetorian (n5), Dutch_guy (n6), Warmaster Horus (n7)

[TinCow]

I am unsure whether I have been replaced as a player. If I have not, I do currently have internet access but do not have time to read the whole thread. I have asked someone I trust to provide me with advice on who I should vote for during the day and what actions I should do at night. If I have not been replaced, I will log a vote sometime tomorrow based on whatever that person advises me.

[Myrddraal]

That looks like two kills (which would have been successful if not for luck) performed by single individuals. One was definitely a mafia kill (signature), one was unclear.

Perhaps we have a lone don killing?

[Askthepizzaguy]

FoS: Greyblades

He's active on these forums and I've nudged him twice to play the game, all I get are excuses. He should have been WOGGED a looooong time ago.

Veronica Trouble Toluso and Cowhead418....

Veronica is a new member and is under invisible mode. Highly unusual for someone with two posts. It seems to me this player may have been advised to go invisible and say nothing. Cowhead on the other hand is not invisible, and hasn't been active since the 18th of August. I understand he's played mafia before and therefore I don't put it past him to be contacting his partners via quicktopic or email, avoiding the site entirely. There may be roles which Seamus designed to be immune to the WOG...

That being said, I find it unlikely that Seamus would give special, preferential treatment to any given role. I'm just puzzled beyond belief why these players are still listed as "alive" and we haven't had a WOG since the 7th round. Pizza no like; bad medicine. If these players are mafia and win the game with a total lurker strategy, and are immune to the WOG... Ugh. Just Ugh. I register my extreme disapproval now.

______________

That depressing business aside, I know which player claimed to do one of those lone night kills. I believe with almost total certainty that they are not mafia. Note the lack of a calling card. That player is one of ours.

[Sasaki Kojiro]

Looks like we have till monday. Should avoid a large bandwagon.

[a completely inoffensive name]

Sucks about your gf pizzaguy.

[Moros]

Gah, spoiling whiskey, how dare they!

Also apparantly someone really wants Sasaki dead. How come?
edit: anyone has a list with all the living players?

[Twilightblade]

I don't have long so

Vote:abstain

oh and to whoever spoilt that wiskey, shame on you

[Myrddraal]

The Sasaki hit makes me think of another one man show. This is the first wave, and someone seems to be planning to attack Sasaki over and over.

If it is a townie/lone wise guy playing these games, I would urge them not to. If your target is known the mafia can use support your attempt and get an easy kill.

[Askthepizzaguy]

I'd prefer if they stepped forward immediately so we don't waste precious time and thought attempting to solve the mystery. Privately if necessary, I don't care... someone needs to know who they are and what they are doing and why.

If the nature of this is not known, I will assume it is malignant, not benign, and I'll recommend the tumor is removed.

[Sasaki Kojiro]

Vote:Beefy

Don by virtue of elimination? shlin dead and andres cleared by investigation?

edit: do we know that shlin wasn't a don?

[Askthepizzaguy]

Shlin probably wasn't a Don, because I am not so lucky that I could convince a Don to attack all by himself and die in the process. It's a nice thought, but... I doubt it. Beefy's status should be clarified today.

[Diana Abnoba]

Man, wait all week to find out I'm dead. That sucks! You mafia .

[Reenk Roink]

I attacked Sasaki because I had nothing to do and he is 95% either already mafia or trying to be.

Vote: Lord Winter - self explanatory

Once Lord Winter, Crazed Rabbit, and Sasaki Kojiro are lynched, I will make public more information about others who might be Mafia. Right now I don't want to dilute the waters when we have 2 confessed and one nearly confessed.

[Beefy187]

I'm quite happy to support Reenk

Vote: Lord Winter

[DisgruntledGoat]

I'm quite happy to support Reenk

Vote: Lord Winter

You're quite happy to support a communist to cover up the fact that you're a Don eh?

Nice going ATPG, off a townie without even giving him a chance to prove his innocence but leave a much more suspected mafia member (Lord Winter) alive. I see where you are taking this town and it ain't pretty.

[Double A]

Didn't Reenk say last round that LW was a hero and shouldn't be lynched?

[Chaotix]

No, LW was one of those in the mafia family that got exposed by Reenk. Along with CR.

Vote: Crazed Rabbit

For the tie.

[Centurion1]

I am tired of these stupid ties. We all kill ourselves trying to get a tie and we end up losing like a townie because someone has some scrap of evidence.


Vote: Reenk Roink

[Crazed Rabbit]

I attacked Sasaki because I had nothing to do and he is 95% either already mafia or trying to be.

Vote: Lord Winter - self explanatory

Once Lord Winter, Crazed Rabbit, and Sasaki Kojiro are lynched, I will make public more information about others who might be Mafia. Right now I don't want to dilute the waters when we have 2 confessed and one nearly confessed.

You know, I don't think it's a coincidence that you started trying to get me lynched after I PM'd you looking for information to hunt down communists.

That's right, many rounds ago Reenk voted for me and tried to get me lynched because I sent him a PM sharing some of my thoughts on hunting communists. That PM was very similar to a PM I sent to an FBI Detective, but you don't see them saying I need to be lynched.

So I think it's pretty likely Reenk is a communist.

vote:Reenk Roink

CR