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NOC a nice basic game of actual mafia - game over - won by the Mafia
- Thread starter Ampharos
- Start date
- Status
sandshrewz please delete the above post
Walrein I was typing it before you posted and am on phone. I swear I didn't preview upcoming post before I posted :c
Is that suffice for you.
Is that suffice for you.
The young man sat by the side of the well, calmly reading his novel. The fall breeze carried the smell of smoke and the sound of angry voices. He sighed. Of course it did.
He adjusted his glasses. The voices were growing louder. That was unusual. His well was in a rather secluded grove, surrounded by a thicket of oak trees that lent a decidedly green tint to what little light leaked through.
He turned a page. He was now able to hear the rustling of underbrush, the crunching of sticks and leaves under heavy hunting boots. The calming green light was taking on a decidedly orange tint.
Rubbing his temples in exasperation, the intellectual closed his book and waited. He did not have to wait long.
The mob came crashing through the oaks into the clearing. The angry shouting, curiously enough, had vanished entirely. They were dead silent save for the sound of their footfalls, their faces lined with stony gazes.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds. The intellectual made the first move.
"...can I help you?"
The glares of the mob hardened. A man near the front spoke up. He was stocky, with straw-blonde hair and a pronounced farmer's tan.
"You can. But you aren't. That's the problem."
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm not quite following."
A tall man with a beakish nose spoke up from the middle of the crowd.
"The rest of us are busting our ass to save this town and you're out here reading all goddamn day!"
"I like my privacy. And I see no reason to make hasty assumptions of guilt. I'd rather sit back and analyze the situation. There's no point in further bloodshed."
Silence once more. The air was thick enough that even a knife wouldn't be able to cut it. You'd need an industrial-strength circular saw.
The tall man spoke up once more.
"How do we know you aren't with them?"
"...sorry?"
"Maybe that's the reason you sit out here all day. Keep quiet. Keep out of the way. And then, when everyone's asleep..."
The intellectual started chuckling. This did not please the tall man.
"What's so goddamn funny?!"
"Your conclusion is preposterous. Tell me, if I were trying to blend in, certainly I would avoid doing anything conspicuously counterproductive so that I could avoid drawing unnecessary attention to myself, no?"
The tall man glared.
"I don't think I like you very much."
He turned to the rest of the crowd.
"Does anyone here like this guy very much?"
A lot of shaking heads. Nobody does.
The straw-haired man in front nodded grimly.
"Then it's settled, then."
He calmly walked over to where the intellectual was seated. The latter's arrogant facade finally started to crack.
"Hey, what're you-"
Without pausing, the straw-haired man gave a grunt of effort and shoved the intellectual backwards, into the well.
He was so surprised, he forgot to scream.
He adjusted his glasses. The voices were growing louder. That was unusual. His well was in a rather secluded grove, surrounded by a thicket of oak trees that lent a decidedly green tint to what little light leaked through.
He turned a page. He was now able to hear the rustling of underbrush, the crunching of sticks and leaves under heavy hunting boots. The calming green light was taking on a decidedly orange tint.
Rubbing his temples in exasperation, the intellectual closed his book and waited. He did not have to wait long.
The mob came crashing through the oaks into the clearing. The angry shouting, curiously enough, had vanished entirely. They were dead silent save for the sound of their footfalls, their faces lined with stony gazes.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds. The intellectual made the first move.
"...can I help you?"
The glares of the mob hardened. A man near the front spoke up. He was stocky, with straw-blonde hair and a pronounced farmer's tan.
"You can. But you aren't. That's the problem."
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm not quite following."
A tall man with a beakish nose spoke up from the middle of the crowd.
"The rest of us are busting our ass to save this town and you're out here reading all goddamn day!"
"I like my privacy. And I see no reason to make hasty assumptions of guilt. I'd rather sit back and analyze the situation. There's no point in further bloodshed."
Silence once more. The air was thick enough that even a knife wouldn't be able to cut it. You'd need an industrial-strength circular saw.
The tall man spoke up once more.
"How do we know you aren't with them?"
"...sorry?"
"Maybe that's the reason you sit out here all day. Keep quiet. Keep out of the way. And then, when everyone's asleep..."
The intellectual started chuckling. This did not please the tall man.
"What's so goddamn funny?!"
"Your conclusion is preposterous. Tell me, if I were trying to blend in, certainly I would avoid doing anything conspicuously counterproductive so that I could avoid drawing unnecessary attention to myself, no?"
The tall man glared.
"I don't think I like you very much."
He turned to the rest of the crowd.
"Does anyone here like this guy very much?"
A lot of shaking heads. Nobody does.
The straw-haired man in front nodded grimly.
"Then it's settled, then."
He calmly walked over to where the intellectual was seated. The latter's arrogant facade finally started to crack.
"Hey, what're you-"
Without pausing, the straw-haired man gave a grunt of effort and shoved the intellectual backwards, into the well.
He was so surprised, he forgot to scream.
sandshrewz was lynched. He was vanilla town.
Night 2 ends 9/18 at 3 AM CDT. Please have your shit in.
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Final Votecount
sandshrewz (5): Whydon, Thetwinmasters, Da Letter El, King_, SomewhatOddish
Aubisio (1): sandshrewz
Haruno (1): shubaka17
Former hope (1): Blazade
Whydon (1): Former Hope
Not voting (4): Aubisio, Coconut, Haruno, tropiusisbae
blame Haruno if any of that's incorrect cause i just stole his
pancake is subbing in for Coconut.
sandshrewz (5): Whydon, Thetwinmasters, Da Letter El, King_, SomewhatOddish
Aubisio (1): sandshrewz
Haruno (1): shubaka17
Former hope (1): Blazade
Whydon (1): Former Hope
Not voting (4): Aubisio, Coconut, Haruno, tropiusisbae
blame Haruno if any of that's incorrect cause i just stole his
pancake is subbing in for Coconut.
flavor by jumpluff
Most of these folks could not be said to understand the gravity of the situation. But that was all the more reason King_ would not abandon his post. Righteous and angry people saw fire as theirs. But fire was indifferent, and when he had seen them mobbed around that poor man's house, torches in hands and voices in chant, he wondered just who had lit the first spark.
He'd wanted to be a firefighter after the first incident, which was largely waved away as misadventure, but the town didn't really understand the threat of fire. There wasn't even a proper fire department in this podunk place, just one other volunteer and his buckets of water. 'Prevention is better than cure,' he kept insisting, and for that he was considered paranoid. Let them. The more the enemies let their guard down, the faster he'd have them hauled up in front of the cops. He always hoped he'd catch the one who set the forest ablaze when he was younger; standing there, watching the winds fan the flames into a frenzy, he'd wondered how anyone could have thought it was a coincidence. He was always on the lookout for the one behind the coverup, too; the investigation had closed almost before it started, and important evidence had been thrown out of court for seemingly no reason.
Nobody remembered that anymore, but he did. Sometimes it was all he had to hold onto. Remembering didn't make you friends. Neither did sitting outside people's houses at night, making sure they were actually asleep and not messing around with maches. And admittedly, that time he'd gone through everyone's mail could've been worthwhile, but it didn't net anything except some eggshell on his doors.
He was the hero they needed.
He'd been going around interrogating people (just quietly, so that the cops wouldn't get annoyed again, although these days it was hard to tell who was an undercover cop and who was just a criminal) since the first mob, seeing just how much they knew about fire. About how to disappear, about smokeballs and pulling fire alarms to distract. And maybe he was onto something this time. He hoped so. He'd been let down a lot of times.
'Come in,' he finally said, opening the door cautiously to tonight's visitor, giving himself just enough space to retreat. He'd been peering out the windows for around thirty minutes while the man stood there on the doorstep, making sure he wasn't concealing anything.
A smarter man would've realised that any normal guest would've left at most ten minutes after ringing the doorbell the second time. A smarter man wouldn't be living where nobody could hear his cries. A smarter man would've left some kind of trace. A smarter man wouldn't be keeping enough evidence to throw someone in jail for life and then some under his pillow.
Most of these folks could not be said to understand the gravity of the situation. But that was all the more reason King_ would not abandon his post. Righteous and angry people saw fire as theirs. But fire was indifferent, and when he had seen them mobbed around that poor man's house, torches in hands and voices in chant, he wondered just who had lit the first spark.
He'd wanted to be a firefighter after the first incident, which was largely waved away as misadventure, but the town didn't really understand the threat of fire. There wasn't even a proper fire department in this podunk place, just one other volunteer and his buckets of water. 'Prevention is better than cure,' he kept insisting, and for that he was considered paranoid. Let them. The more the enemies let their guard down, the faster he'd have them hauled up in front of the cops. He always hoped he'd catch the one who set the forest ablaze when he was younger; standing there, watching the winds fan the flames into a frenzy, he'd wondered how anyone could have thought it was a coincidence. He was always on the lookout for the one behind the coverup, too; the investigation had closed almost before it started, and important evidence had been thrown out of court for seemingly no reason.
Nobody remembered that anymore, but he did. Sometimes it was all he had to hold onto. Remembering didn't make you friends. Neither did sitting outside people's houses at night, making sure they were actually asleep and not messing around with maches. And admittedly, that time he'd gone through everyone's mail could've been worthwhile, but it didn't net anything except some eggshell on his doors.
He was the hero they needed.
He'd been going around interrogating people (just quietly, so that the cops wouldn't get annoyed again, although these days it was hard to tell who was an undercover cop and who was just a criminal) since the first mob, seeing just how much they knew about fire. About how to disappear, about smokeballs and pulling fire alarms to distract. And maybe he was onto something this time. He hoped so. He'd been let down a lot of times.
'Come in,' he finally said, opening the door cautiously to tonight's visitor, giving himself just enough space to retreat. He'd been peering out the windows for around thirty minutes while the man stood there on the doorstep, making sure he wasn't concealing anything.
A smarter man would've realised that any normal guest would've left at most ten minutes after ringing the doorbell the second time. A smarter man wouldn't be living where nobody could hear his cries. A smarter man would've left some kind of trace. A smarter man wouldn't be keeping enough evidence to throw someone in jail for life and then some under his pillow.
King_ was killed. He was the Forensic.
Day 3 ends 9/21 at 3 AM CDT.
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Wow I very much misread that peek discussion. I thought tropius was cop lol
vote tropiusisbae
this is king's guilty. lynch up boys
vote tropiusisbae
this is king's guilty. lynch up boys
Can we not hammer yet
Really awesome how haruno shubaka and aubisio hammer the last 3 votes
Also tropius called empoof sand and mithril clean
~In her first post of reads while they were not liked overall also somebody please unvote zzzz
For once, things seemed pretty clear-cut. The chief heaved a sigh of relief. This would be an easy one.
He had gone over the files of the fallen forensic investigator a hundred times. They all pointed to this man's guilt. This was an open-and-shut case if he had ever seen one.
And yet...
The man who answered the door when the chief knocked was far more nondescript than he had expected. He was polite, courteous, and perfectly willing to come down to the station to answer a few questions.
They made polite small talk on the way to the station. He was originally from out of state, he said. He was an insurance broker, a boring job for a boring man. He had no wife, no kids. A bit of a loner, but he claimed to enjoy the quiet.
As the chief parked the car in the station lot, he was beginning to have doubts. The man just seemed so... average. Could he really be behind these fires?
He unlocked the car and exited. Taking out a pair of handcuffs, he walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door.
"I'm sorry about this, but I'm going to need you to put these on. Security protocol."
The man looked up at the chief, and for the first time the chief saw something strange in his gaze. Something unsettling.
"Oh, don't worry. Those won't be necessary."
"I'm sorry, sir. It's the law. If you're being brought in for questioning, you're in cuffs."
"My apologies, I wasn't clear. I'm not coming into the station."
He pulled something from his pocket. A cigarette? No, a match.
It was only then that the chief noticed the pool of lighter fluid collecting in the passenger side floorboard.
"I can't handle prison. Prison's so cold... and so wet..."
He struck the match. The chief turned on his heel and sprinted away from the vehicle.
"Where I'm going, it's so warm... and dry... and nice..."
An ear-shattering explosion. And he was gone.
He had gone over the files of the fallen forensic investigator a hundred times. They all pointed to this man's guilt. This was an open-and-shut case if he had ever seen one.
And yet...
The man who answered the door when the chief knocked was far more nondescript than he had expected. He was polite, courteous, and perfectly willing to come down to the station to answer a few questions.
They made polite small talk on the way to the station. He was originally from out of state, he said. He was an insurance broker, a boring job for a boring man. He had no wife, no kids. A bit of a loner, but he claimed to enjoy the quiet.
As the chief parked the car in the station lot, he was beginning to have doubts. The man just seemed so... average. Could he really be behind these fires?
He unlocked the car and exited. Taking out a pair of handcuffs, he walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door.
"I'm sorry about this, but I'm going to need you to put these on. Security protocol."
The man looked up at the chief, and for the first time the chief saw something strange in his gaze. Something unsettling.
"Oh, don't worry. Those won't be necessary."
"I'm sorry, sir. It's the law. If you're being brought in for questioning, you're in cuffs."
"My apologies, I wasn't clear. I'm not coming into the station."
He pulled something from his pocket. A cigarette? No, a match.
It was only then that the chief noticed the pool of lighter fluid collecting in the passenger side floorboard.
"I can't handle prison. Prison's so cold... and so wet..."
He struck the match. The chief turned on his heel and sprinted away from the vehicle.
"Where I'm going, it's so warm... and dry... and nice..."
An ear-shattering explosion. And he was gone.
tropiusisbae was lynched. She was the Arsonist.
Night 3 ends tomorrow at 1 PM CDT.
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