Re: Capo di Tutti Capi IV -- Information and Story Summary Thread.
"Thy dawn, O Master of the world, thy dawn;
The hour the lilies open on the lawn,
The hour the grey wings pass beyond the mountains,
The hour of silence, when we hear the fountains,
The hour that dreams are brighter and winds colder,
The hour that young love wakes on a white shoulder,
O Master of the world, the Persian Dawn.
That hour, O Master, shall be bright for thee:
Thy merchants chase the morning down the sea,
The braves who fight thy war unsheathe the sabre,
The slaves who work thy mines are lashed to labour,
For thee the waggons of the world are drawn—
The ebony of night, the red of dawn!"
...The Story of Hassan of Baghdad
...James Elroy Flecker
Fourteenth Night -- The Streets of Fatlington
A chill November rain swept through Fatlington, dropping temperatures and hopes. Many decided to stay inside, under the comfort of insulation. If that didn't provide enough warmth, there was always the alcohol to remedy that. The figures that remained outside under these conditions were obscured, shadow-like. Yet still their work continued.
Cahoma lived close enough to the Convention Center where he always walked home from the meetings. He had the path taken down to muscle memory, so the dulling of much of his senses from the rain didn't matter much to him. He would know the way home even in a blizzard where he couldn't see five feet in front of him.
However, unfortunately for Cahoma, his muscle memory did not protect him against impediments that were not usually there. This came in the form of two gunmen that Cahoma did not see until they had a clear shot at him.
"Oh -" he began, but the rest of it was lost due to the rain and the gunfire, and soon enough his blood was flowing down into the sewers of the city along with the rainwater.
Renata was playing poker with some of the boys. They had been going deep into the night until there were only three of them left: Herself and two other gentlemen who had been playing solidly but had been bleeding chips for a long time now. Finally, as the last hand was dealt, one of them looked at the other. "All in," he said, pushing his meager stack into the center of the table and topping it off with a single 1951 half dollar.
"Call," said the other one, adding his own half-dollar to the pot, and before Renata could react they both had their guns out and trained on her.
"Well, if you boys are going all-in, I guess it's only right that you show your hand. I suppose I have to do the same," she said, grinning, and an instant later both gunmen each had *two* guns pointed directly at their heads from four people that had showed up seemingly out of nowhere.
"I'll just take your money this time, I think," she said, nodding at the four. "Next time, though, you had better hope you're playing with better cards." And without another word, she collected her winnings and exited.
B_Ray was quickly walking down one of Fatlington's streets, commenting on the weather with a friend of his whom he had met.
"Brutal, eh?"
"Yeah, now I see why this is only a popular town in the summer."
Two figures came in and joined the conversation out of nowhere. "You want to see brutal? Try Alaska in late December or early January."
"Yeah," said the other, "There's a reason why they call it Seward's Folly. Imagine if you're up past the Arctic Circle too. No sunlight during the Solstice. Just 24 hours of straight... darkness."
B_Ray and his friend looked at each other. B_Ray was more afraid for his life. His friend, however, was taking charge of the situation. "That's why I always carry other lighting sources with me," he said, and took out what was obviously a Molotov Cocktail from his coat. "Shoot me and in my dying breath I set all of you *#%!s on fire. Find somebody else to give your song-and-dance to."
Without a word, the two attackers blended into the night.
Sobbing, BillMC took another step.
The attack had overwhelmed him. He thought he was safe, having driven back to his house without any incidents. He had gotten out of the car, shut the door, and was halfway to his front door when *they* came. Led by a man in a crimson suit, three of them had pumped up to a dozen bullets into his body until things reached the point where the only thing his blood-filled eyes could distinguish were the smoking barrels of the guns.
Sobbing, he took another step.
That hadn't been the end of the misery, though. No. He was done flat on his back, bleeding from more wounds than he could count. The rain was washing away his blood as fast as it continued to pour out. The man in the red suit, though, he wasn't finished. Kneeling down, his suit the precise color of Bill's blood (how convenient, this, it wouldn't stain his suit, how well thought-out this plan was), he unearthed a knife and proceeded to take Bill's right shoe and sock off.
He remembered the toe amputation the most vividly out of the entire events of the night. It was pain beyond pain, somehow serving to heighten all of his other wounds in addition to being its own misery. He was so hurt that he wasn't even able to scream or cry. He remembered the three of them conversing afterward, but at that point was too incoherent to understand what they were saying.
Sobbing, he took another step.
He remembered wanting to die, but realized after time immemorial (five minutes) that death wasn't going to come. So he decided to live. Getting up, tearing his suit to pieces, using each one as best he could as a tourniquet, he struggled to his feet and began to limp all the way to the only place he could go: Mercy Hospital.
Thrice, he fell. Each time, he didn't think he was going to get up. His energy was leaving his body, along with his blood.
Sobbing, he took another step. But then, there it was. Mercy beckoned ahead. Sobbing with joy, he took another step.
Winston Hughes had a terrific headache. He had taken sleeping pills, about twenty too many truth be told, but sleep was still not coming. Instead, there was a pounding coming from the apartment next door. They were playing some of that new-fangled music, probably "Rocket 88", and the bassline was far too loud.
Enough was enough. Winston struggled out of bed, leaving his apartment and knocking on next door. Expecting to yell at them to quit that racket when they opened the door, he instead found himself face-to-face with two people carrying very large guns.
"Uurrrghh" he managed, and collapsed to the floor. The two gunmen looked at each other for a second, and then one bent down to check his pulse. Nothing. Confused, they looked at each other again before putting the requisite 1951 Franklin silver half-dollars over his eyes and going back inside.
"Easiest job we ever pulled," one said, laughing.
Three hours later, Winston woke up, struggled back to his apartment, and called 911. He had overdosed on the sleeping pills, and now was going to pay the price in the form of hospital bills from Mercy.
Scienter had outrun a lot in her time in Fatlington. There was the double attack on her a week or so back that she had survived. Things had died down a bit after that, but they were clearly going after her with a vengeance tonight. First, she had survived an attempt to run her off the road when the other car had spun out due to the slippery surface. After that, there was the attempt to poison her drink that she had survived by changing her order at the last second and noticing the bartender scrambling around. Finally, back when she was home, relaxing, she had noticed an odd stench in her house and got out seconds before the entire building exploded from the buildup of too much natural gas.
Now, though, there was nowhere to run. She had driven over to the Hotel Abbatoir to try and find a place to stay the night (the penthouse was now open) and was washing up in the lobby's bathroom when the door crashed open.
Three armed figures faced her. They were blocking the only way out. There were no windows to climb out of, and the protection the stalls provided was laughable.
"A clean, single shot, please," she said, facing the inevitable. "I don't want to make this needlessly messy." The attackers agreed - this was a fair enough request - but as they were conferring, Scienter turned the sink on as hot as she could and let the water flow. Cupping it in her hands, ignoring the scalding they were receiving, she splashed it in their faces and charged, aiming to barrel right through them and out to safety.
It worked, but not well enough. Two gunmen were down, screaming in pain. The other one, though, fired incoherently, chipping tiles and spraying shells all over the floor. None of his shots hit Scienter, but he still did well enough, as she ended up slipping on one of the shells and landing flat on her back.
"Uh-oh." Scrambling into the corner, trying to buy still more time, she knew she was cooked. The gunman's look was merciless as he lined up his shot and fired once, this bullet going directly between her eyes. "At least one of us keeps his promises," he said, depositing two 1951 half dollars on her person and helping his comrades up.
The Stranger didn't know where he was going exactly, but he knew he was being pursued. That was reason enough to gun the car and drive recklessly, even in the night's less-than-ideal conditions.
He heard the pitter-patter of raindrops, the screech of the car behind him, and the occasional bursts of machine-gun fire. What he did not hear, however, was the yell of the pedestrian nearby to watch where he was going.
It was an intersection that had no signs or traffic lights, and as a result TS missed the turn entirely. He ended up slamming his car into a fire hydrant, completely dislodging it from the ground. It launched a fountain into the sky but the impact was enough to bring his car to a dead stop.
Without a word, the two men in the car pursuing him came to a slow stop, exited the car, and made their way over to TS's vehicle. They fired two shots. The first one took care of the window. The second one took care of The Stranger. They then drove off.
The next day, when the authorities finally stopped the constant spray of water from where the fire hydrant used to be, they found a soaked-beyond-belief outline of the state of Alaska with the words "Seward's Folly" scrawled in. However, there was no actual car, as The Stranger had managed to survive the wound and drive himself to Mercy for treatment.
Psychonaut had been sleeping when he was jarred awake by the sound of duct tape ripping off. He tried to move instinctively but found that his arms, legs, and body were bound to the bed.
"Ah, I'm sorry my friend, but you woke up a might too late," said one of the two men who had been tying him up. "A little earlier in the process and you might have been able to get out of this. Now, unfortunately, there's not much else to do. Knife him." The man's partner complied, and removed Psychonaut's big toe, ignoring Psychonaut's muffled screams. Satisfied with the task, the two attackers left the room momentarily.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" one of them asked.
"Oh, right," the other said, and went back in the room to actually kill Psychonaut.
guiri, God bless his heart, was still trying to get some work done. Committee duties had prevented him from showing up to the office these past two weeks, but he had arranged with his boss to work from home. He didn't have that much time to work but did enjoy unwinding at nights by typing up reports and crunching numbers.
As he pushed another piece of paper into his typewriter, guiri got really into his work, as per usual. Fully concentrated on the task at hand, he failed to notice the sounds of two people finishing up work on an elaborate bomb they had mostly set up before guiri returned home.
Finally, he noticed that something was wrong - his filing cabinet was starting to rattle for some inexplicable reason. Not thinking at all, guiri opened the cabinet to see what was wrong, activating the detonator. The cabinet blew up in his face, killing guiri and utterly filling the room with semi-charred pictures of the state of Alaska with the words "Seward's Folly" scrawled on them.
"It is time, Tiaexz."
That was the voice that had been following him for thirty minutes now, cutting clearly through the rain and wind. Time. Time for what, he thought? There was an obvious answer to that.
He had no idea where he was. He had been walking quickly down various town streets ever since the voice had started, not particularly caring where he turned so long as it was "away." He couldn't keep this up forever, after all. Fatlington had its share of dead ends.
"It is time, Tiaexz."
Enough. Enough with that voice. Enough with everything. He turned around. There was one attacker, his face silhouetted through the rain and shadows of street lamps overhead. He was holding a Zastava M88. Seeing Tiaexz, he nodded, and raised his gun, preparing to fire.
Click.
"Time for you to get a new gun, I guess," Tiaexz said, not quite believing his luck, and walked off into the night with confidence.
09:11AM, Saturday, 12 November 1951
The Executive Meeting Room (Small Ballroom)
Fatlington Convention Center
Fatlington, New Jersey
"And that's the daily report," Commissioner Fermanagh said, rolling up the peace of paper. "And now it's time for everyone's favorite part of the day: The postmortems." Nobody on the Committee made a sound.
"Your lynch choice, Populus Romanus, was a rousing success for you scum, as he was a surgeon dedicated to protecting the innocent of Fatlington. I congratulate you on your work, Committee. As for the night deaths, Khazaar and qlyphz were loyal townies and Johhog was a minor scum, not yet affiliated with any of the families. No wonder why they're on the report. Okay, everybody, get to work, I guess," he finished, taking a long swig of his drink and passing the gavel off to Director Askthepizzaguy.
OOC
Day Fifteen begins. You are voting to lynch and select a Director.
Phase ends:
I'll try to send out feedback PMs today. As always, PM me if you are expecting a promotion.
Please continue to vote. Sending night orders alone will not be enough to save you from the WOG.
Attacked = 56: Askthepizzaguy (n1, n2, n4, n5, n8), Raskolnikov (n1), Slash and earn (n1, n6), slysnake (n1, n3), Earthling (n1), a completely inoffensive name (n2), Master Necromanver (n2), Cahoma (n2), El Barto (n2), Montmorency (n2, n4), Chaotix (n2, n3, n11, n12), taillesskangaru (n3), Secura (n3), Ameranth (n3), Craterus (n3), Cecil XIX (n3, n6), johnhughthom (n4), Ishmael (n4), Drunk Clown (n4, n5), Psychonaut (n5), Suburban Plankton (n4), Sasaki Kojiro (n4), scottishranger (n4, n10), edse (n5), Erebus (n5, n6), Diana Abnoba (n6, n10), J.D. (n6), Zack (n6), Camikaze (n7), Hero di Classico (n7), Diamondeye (n7, n9), guiri (n8), Khazaar (n8, n9, n11), Riedquat (n8), robbiecon (n8), Scienter (n8 x2), sturmhauke (n8), Jarema (n9), Oh! TheLastDays! (n10), qlyphz (n10, n12), Psychonaut (n11), Crazed Rabbit (n12), Erebus (n12), BillMC (n12), Secura (n13), Beefy (n13), white eyes (n13), B_Ray (n14), Renata (n14), Tiaexz (n14)
Wounded = 21: Slysnake (n1, n3), Lord Brennus (n3), Tratorix (n4), edse (n5), Erebus (n6), Psychonaut (n6), Choxorn (n7), dcmort93 (n7), Zack (n7), guiri (n8), Monk (n8), Sasaki (n9), Lewwyn (N11), Neri (N11), Scottishranger (n13), Sturmhauke (n13), BillMC (n14), The Stranger (n14), Winston Hughes (n14)
Killed = 59: Captain Black Adder [townie] (n1), Pharoah [townie] (n2), Moros [luca] (n2), ELITEWARMAN8GINGYBREADMENMILK [townie] (n2), TinCow [detective] (n3), Xenoneb [townie] (n3), El Barto [detective] (n3), Arjos [FBI chief] (n3), Ameranth [wiseguy] (n4), Lord Winter [wiseguy] (n4), Suburban Plankton [detective] (n5), slysnake [townie] (n5), Lord Brennus [townie] (n5), Bow-wow-wow [townie] (n5), ByzantineKnight [townie] (n6), Kagemusha [serial killer] (n6), Tratorix [FBI] (n6), Raskolnikov [wiseguy] (n6), Nictel [wiseguy] (n6), J.D. [wiseguy] (n6), Visorslash [communist leader] (n7), Cecil XIX [townie] (n7), Drunk Clown [luca] (n7), Johnhughthom [wiseguy] (n7), Jolt [Made] (n7), Romanic [wiseguy] (n7), fubbleskag [doctor] (n8), Ibn-Khaldun [townie] (n8), Memnon [townie] (n8), robbiecon [townie] (n8), Andres [Special Agent] (n8), Camikaze [Made] (n8), Frozen in Ice [wiseguy] (n8), woad&fangs [townie] (n9), Zack [townie] (n9), Zim [Luca] (n9), Choxorn [townie] (n9), dcmort93 [townie] (n9), Diamondeye [wiseguy] (n10),
AggonyKing [townie] (n10), God Emperor [made] (n10), Skotsko [made] (n10), slash and earn [townie] (n10), thefluffyone93 [rogue detective] (n10), Craterus [townie] (n11), Peasant Phill [Don] (n11), Sasaki [Don] (n11), ULC [townie] (n11), Khazaar [townie] (n12), Johhog [Wiseguy] (n12), qlyphz [townie] (n12), Lewwyn (n13), Monk (n13), Yaropolk (n13), Cahoma (n14), guiri (n14), Psychonaut (n14), Scienter (n14)
Lynched = 11: Earthling [townie] (d2), a completely inoffensive name [townie] (d3), Subotan [wiseguy] (d3), Major Robert Dump [wiseguy] (d4), Ishmael [communist] (d5), Montmorency [wiseguy] (d6), landlubber [Made] (d8), Captain Blackadder [townie] (d9), Riedquat [townie] (d10), Edse [surgeon] (d11), Populus Romanus [surgeon] (d12), Crazed Rabbit (d13)
Wogged = 4: bestrfcplayer (n6), cpdwane [townie] (n4), Master Necromanver [Don] (n4), taillesskangaru [townie] (n4)
Added: Autolycus (d4)
Active:
Askthepizzaguy, Autolycus, B Ray, Backwards Logic, Beefy187, Believer, Beskar, BillMc, BSmith, Chaotix, Clitsome, DaveShack, Death is yonder, Diana Abnoba, Double A, Erebus, fyremarble, GamezRule, gibsonsg91921, gnarleycharlie, hero di classic, Ironside, Jarema, kennigit, Khazaar, Krill, LazyMcCrow, Neri, Nightbringer, Niklas, O!TheLastDays!, Renata, scottishranger, Secura, Seon, shlin28, Sigurd, Silver Jan, SisterCoyote, Sprig, sturmhauke, White_eyes:D, Winston Hughes, Xehh II
Originally Posted by TosaInu
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