holy crap i come back to check and everyones voting for me :P
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Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
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El SkidThe frozen white northRegistered Userregular
edited March 2008
!Lightor it is then. Man I hate day 1's- I would like to publicly wish that every phalla from here on in have a day 0 in which no killing is allowed, and people get to do other stuff that *could* actually do something useful as far as giving info on who is on which side.
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duraxWho watches the watchdogs?Registered Userregular
edited March 2008
Day1 certainly has the village at a disadvantage, but I think us scrambling in the dark is an essential part of the game. (i.e. A day 0, as you described it would make the game to easy for the good guys to win).
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Quoththe RavenMiami, FL FOR REALRegistered Userregular
edited March 2008
EPIC REVEAL
I am going to a tie party. I am wearing a tie. It is going to be delightful.
Don't let no vampires chomp my neck while I'm gone. The tie is made of garlics.
The day was nearly complete and the breeder had yet to make up his mind on which of his neighbours he would condemn. He was so engrossed with his decision that he didn’t even notice the fighter had approached him at the water jugs.
“Have you made your decision yet?†the fighter asked.
Jumping at the unexpected company, the breeder dropped his cup, spilling the cool water over the dry, packed dirt. “Sonova! You scared the crap outta me.â€
The fighter bent down and picked up the breeder’s old tin cup. Handing it to the dirty man, he said, “Sorry about that. I saw you over here and thought I would see if you had any idea who you were going to vote for.â€
The breeder sighed. “No, I ain’t got no damned idea. I really hate ta do this.†Having finished refilling his cup, the breeder offered it to the tall fighter and the two of them sat on nearby food containers and discussed the gruesome fate someone would meet later that night.
***
He was just putting things away when the dancer walked into his tent. She was so attractive and walked with an air about her that said she knew exactly what you were thinking as you looked at her. The baker was sure she loved the attention.
“Have you got anything today, hun?†the dancer asked, flipping her hair back behind her ears. “I could really go for a tart right now.†The way she enunciated tart made the baker smile. He knew what she was up to.
“Sorry, not today. Maybe tomorrow. I couldn’t really concentrate on watching the oven, so I thought it best not to waste any of the flour.†The baker kept tidying things as he spoke. It was almost time for the refugees to meet at the village centre and he was starting to get nervous. It helped to have something to do with his hands.
There was only a slight hint of a pout when the dancer spoke again. “Aww… are you sure you didn’t—â€
The clanging of the musician’s bell cut through the night and stopped the dancer mid-sentence. She looked at the baker and he stared back at her. The bell meant it was time for the nightly meeting. Quickly turning on her heels, the dancer slipped out of the baker’s tent without a word. When the baker followed after her, he nearly bumped into the miner.
“Oh sorry. Excuse me,†he said, back-pedalling to give the miner more room. “I guess my mind’s somewhere else right now…†He trailed off and the miner grinned a hard grin that never reached his eyes. Instead of saying anything, though, the miner just gestured and led the way to the village centre. The baker quietly followed.
***
The bell was small, but so was Phallanka, and soon enough every one of the refugees had gathered in the square. Most people were milling about, waiting for someone to take charge, but some small pockets of conversation were forming. The politician was talking with the musician, pointing often to the brass bell in his hands. Elsewhere, the farmer, mechanic, and the courier were involved in what appeared to be a heated conversation. Others, like the translator and the dentist, were just walking slowly through the crowd while casting nervous glances at the large stake set up in the middle of the square outside the dentist’s tent.
It was the geologist who spoke first. She walked right up to the pyre and called out for everyone to listen. She didn’t know how to start but she thought it was silly for everyone to just stand around waiting for someone to volunteer. No one else had stepped up, she said, so she thought she may as well take charge.
At first, it seemed as though some of the villagers were going to lose their resolve and back out of their agreement. The chef seemed opposed to nearly every suggestion the geologist came up with for voting, but when she was asked for her own idea, she fell silent.
It was the banker who called out above the crowd with a name. Others echoed his choice and the geologist shrugged her shoulders—it was a bit crude, but the method worked. When she stepped back into the crowd, the rest of the villagers seemed to grow more comfortable with their work and started to call out in support of their friends and to condemn neighbours.
***
The refugees eventually worked out a system for their voting and, when it all was said and done, they turned on the dumbstruck student. She had been standing off to the side since the villagers had slowly inched away from her as her name was called more and more frequently. She had been speechless when the last villager called her name, but as the butcher and fighter approached her, she finally cried out.
She cried and she cursed and she begged, but the villagers were determined and pressed close to the pyre so she had nowhere to run. She didn’t stop crying while they tied her to the stake and she continued to beg while the scientist lit the kindling at the base of the pyre. There was a loud whoosh as the lamp fuel ignited, but the student’s cries could still be heard over the crackle of the wood as the flames grew.
Standing back a safe distance from the fire, many of the villagers could not bear to watch as the flames crawled up the students boots and danced along her legs. The screams were all that could be heard for miles and miles, but the insane laughter never came. By the end, all of the villagers had turned away from their murder and more than one openly wept at their actions. The student had screamed until the end, crying for her parents, begging for their mercy, and finally choking on a wail as the flames kissed her lips.
***
The dancer, weary from a restless night, floated into the baker’s tent. “Do you think you’ll have anything today?†she asked as she fidgeted with her leggings. “I could really use a—AHHH!!!†Looking up, the dancer saw the pale body of the baker draped across his wooden mixing table. His eyes were open and rolled back in their sockets, and his mouth hung slightly open. His apron was blood-soaked and the wound in his neck was gaping. Ripped flesh hung loosely under his chin and the dancer could see some of his blackened insides. She screamed again before someone finally found her in the baker’s tent.
***
Four people had died overnight:
The baker was not the only victim of the Vampires savagery--the breeder has also had his neck ripped out. He was found in the kennel with his hound, but the hound could not be coaxed out of her house.
The fighter was found dead behind his tent with a giant wooden stake sticking out of his chest. His eyes were open and the surprise on his face was unmistakable. Someone had to have caught him off guard to get the better of such a strong man.
And, of course, many of the refugees still refused to talk about the student and no one went near the part of the square where the pyre sat. The memories were too fresh, the screams too terrible.
Four of their friends had died in the night, but the Vampires were still clearly preying on them, so the refugees reluctantly agreed to meet again at the end of the day to vote for who would be burnt alive next. There was no enthusiasm in the village that morning and more than one person could be heard loudly praying they find a monster that night.
***
Results: Dead:
Stew_Stick (the Fighter)
Crovaxan (the Breeder)
Lightor216 (the Student)
B:L (the Baker)
Sorry for the long delay in getting the Narration/Results up--there is family over and I've been distracted, so blame them for the delay and the poor narration.
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Toxic ToysAre you really taking my advice?Really?Registered Userregular
So who here would want to take out B:L. That is the death that stands out to me because of how crafty he is.
Another question is since there were so many non-voters. Are odds higher that the vampires are amongst those that voted ? Or amongst those that didn't?
Vampires staying under the radar-not voting or
Villagers not happy with their roles- not voting
Posts
We'll have to fix that.
!vote Lightor216
Plus, I think he's really evil.
Pick a target and they'll pick you.
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
!Daius!
Never trust a neutral!
What makes a man turn neutral? Lust for gold? Power?
I was just born with a heart full of neutrality.
I don't care if it was my fault, I'll never forgive you for killing me in Gods of Phalla!
He has the most votes on him... and it's, like, day 1 and such. Crusade on!
Who is Lightor any way? Is he a phalla newbie?
Crap, you may indeed be right, and I couldn't live with myself if I day-1 bandwagon'd a first time phalla'er.
!Retract Lightor !Vote Crovaxan
Thank you, B:L, for clearing this up. Since Lightor is not, in fact, a first-time phalla'er...
!Retract Crovaxan !vote Lightor
Back to the original.
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
I am going to a tie party. I am wearing a tie. It is going to be delightful.
Don't let no vampires chomp my neck while I'm gone. The tie is made of garlics.
Crovax.436 Steam: Crovaxan
!vote Squashua for not validating me.
I'll finish re-checking the results and get the Narration to you shortly.
Shit, sorry about the vote crovaxan
“Have you made your decision yet?†the fighter asked.
Jumping at the unexpected company, the breeder dropped his cup, spilling the cool water over the dry, packed dirt. “Sonova! You scared the crap outta me.â€
The fighter bent down and picked up the breeder’s old tin cup. Handing it to the dirty man, he said, “Sorry about that. I saw you over here and thought I would see if you had any idea who you were going to vote for.â€
The breeder sighed. “No, I ain’t got no damned idea. I really hate ta do this.†Having finished refilling his cup, the breeder offered it to the tall fighter and the two of them sat on nearby food containers and discussed the gruesome fate someone would meet later that night.
He was just putting things away when the dancer walked into his tent. She was so attractive and walked with an air about her that said she knew exactly what you were thinking as you looked at her. The baker was sure she loved the attention.
“Have you got anything today, hun?†the dancer asked, flipping her hair back behind her ears. “I could really go for a tart right now.†The way she enunciated tart made the baker smile. He knew what she was up to.
“Sorry, not today. Maybe tomorrow. I couldn’t really concentrate on watching the oven, so I thought it best not to waste any of the flour.†The baker kept tidying things as he spoke. It was almost time for the refugees to meet at the village centre and he was starting to get nervous. It helped to have something to do with his hands.
There was only a slight hint of a pout when the dancer spoke again. “Aww… are you sure you didn’t—â€
The clanging of the musician’s bell cut through the night and stopped the dancer mid-sentence. She looked at the baker and he stared back at her. The bell meant it was time for the nightly meeting. Quickly turning on her heels, the dancer slipped out of the baker’s tent without a word. When the baker followed after her, he nearly bumped into the miner.
“Oh sorry. Excuse me,†he said, back-pedalling to give the miner more room. “I guess my mind’s somewhere else right now…†He trailed off and the miner grinned a hard grin that never reached his eyes. Instead of saying anything, though, the miner just gestured and led the way to the village centre. The baker quietly followed.
The bell was small, but so was Phallanka, and soon enough every one of the refugees had gathered in the square. Most people were milling about, waiting for someone to take charge, but some small pockets of conversation were forming. The politician was talking with the musician, pointing often to the brass bell in his hands. Elsewhere, the farmer, mechanic, and the courier were involved in what appeared to be a heated conversation. Others, like the translator and the dentist, were just walking slowly through the crowd while casting nervous glances at the large stake set up in the middle of the square outside the dentist’s tent.
It was the geologist who spoke first. She walked right up to the pyre and called out for everyone to listen. She didn’t know how to start but she thought it was silly for everyone to just stand around waiting for someone to volunteer. No one else had stepped up, she said, so she thought she may as well take charge.
At first, it seemed as though some of the villagers were going to lose their resolve and back out of their agreement. The chef seemed opposed to nearly every suggestion the geologist came up with for voting, but when she was asked for her own idea, she fell silent.
It was the banker who called out above the crowd with a name. Others echoed his choice and the geologist shrugged her shoulders—it was a bit crude, but the method worked. When she stepped back into the crowd, the rest of the villagers seemed to grow more comfortable with their work and started to call out in support of their friends and to condemn neighbours.
The refugees eventually worked out a system for their voting and, when it all was said and done, they turned on the dumbstruck student. She had been standing off to the side since the villagers had slowly inched away from her as her name was called more and more frequently. She had been speechless when the last villager called her name, but as the butcher and fighter approached her, she finally cried out.
She cried and she cursed and she begged, but the villagers were determined and pressed close to the pyre so she had nowhere to run. She didn’t stop crying while they tied her to the stake and she continued to beg while the scientist lit the kindling at the base of the pyre. There was a loud whoosh as the lamp fuel ignited, but the student’s cries could still be heard over the crackle of the wood as the flames grew.
Standing back a safe distance from the fire, many of the villagers could not bear to watch as the flames crawled up the students boots and danced along her legs. The screams were all that could be heard for miles and miles, but the insane laughter never came. By the end, all of the villagers had turned away from their murder and more than one openly wept at their actions. The student had screamed until the end, crying for her parents, begging for their mercy, and finally choking on a wail as the flames kissed her lips.
The dancer, weary from a restless night, floated into the baker’s tent. “Do you think you’ll have anything today?†she asked as she fidgeted with her leggings. “I could really use a—AHHH!!!†Looking up, the dancer saw the pale body of the baker draped across his wooden mixing table. His eyes were open and rolled back in their sockets, and his mouth hung slightly open. His apron was blood-soaked and the wound in his neck was gaping. Ripped flesh hung loosely under his chin and the dancer could see some of his blackened insides. She screamed again before someone finally found her in the baker’s tent.
Four people had died overnight:
The baker was not the only victim of the Vampires savagery--the breeder has also had his neck ripped out. He was found in the kennel with his hound, but the hound could not be coaxed out of her house.
The fighter was found dead behind his tent with a giant wooden stake sticking out of his chest. His eyes were open and the surprise on his face was unmistakable. Someone had to have caught him off guard to get the better of such a strong man.
And, of course, many of the refugees still refused to talk about the student and no one went near the part of the square where the pyre sat. The memories were too fresh, the screams too terrible.
Four of their friends had died in the night, but the Vampires were still clearly preying on them, so the refugees reluctantly agreed to meet again at the end of the day to vote for who would be burnt alive next. There was no enthusiasm in the village that morning and more than one person could be heard loudly praying they find a monster that night.
Results:
Dead:
Stew_Stick (the Fighter)
Crovaxan (the Breeder)
Lightor216 (the Student)
B:L (the Baker)
Roles Removed:
Villager
Villager
Villager
Villager
Sorry for the long delay in getting the Narration/Results up--there is family over and I've been distracted, so blame them for the delay and the poor narration.
Every in town gathered in the center. They had poor Mary Margret bound and gaged. No one looked forward tom the unpleasent wook ahead.
All of a suden, on e of the cave walls exploded. In the settling dust, and fugure emerged. I looked like a rather large man. And a very round one too.
The cave was in silence. Until the man spoke.
"OH YEAH"
I'm reading an account that is a LITTLE different...
Sorry about that. LaOs types faster then I do.
And damn LaOs! Can you write the narration for my mini?
heheh they are good aren't they?
Also, someone better warn the butcher and the candlestick maker.
Yes they are.
So who here would want to take out B:L. That is the death that stands out to me because of how crafty he is.
Well gee, now _that_ would be a short list indeed...
(:p)
Another question is since there were so many non-voters. Are odds higher that the vampires are amongst those that voted ? Or amongst those that didn't?
Vampires staying under the radar-not voting or
Villagers not happy with their roles- not voting
That is a good question Egos. A lot of people didn't vote today, so I don't know.
I think that Stew_Stick was killed by the vig.
At least this gives us a little bit to work with.