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Wolves of The Weirwood (Inactive)

Game Master Ryuko

How will the tiny village of Laniel survive an infection of Werewolves!

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Male Human Super Cruel DM 10

The whispers have been going on for the whole month since the mayor died. Everyone knows that some of the populace are Werewolves, and they will turn on the full moon, and every night after. A few dozen people fled, with each of them terrified. Finally, only the most stubborn, foolish or willing to fight are left. Each of the remaining looks at the others with fear and distrust. The people will start dying soon. Starting tonight. The people will soon choose their first lynching.

I know you have little to go on, but try anyway, think of it as a deposit on later paranoia.

Male Human Super Cruel DM 10

Cycle 1 Begins now and ends Friday at 7 pm CST (GMT -6)

Make votes on who dies and if you have a special role send me a PM with who you are Scrying, Protecting, Stalking or Killing!

Anyone who does not make a post within the first cycle will be considered to not be playing. You must make at least 1 in character post in the first cycle.

Gentleman Adventurer

"Why in the blazes didn't I stock up on silver? I could have made a killing here!" Vorian mutters in annoyance, as he inspects his wares. They would have to do. Having set up shop where he suspected he could get as much attention as possible, he begins to deliver his pitch.

"Come one, come all! Feast your eyes upon exotic rarities from across the land! You might fancy the fur of the noble river beast, as soft as a cloud and as warm as your lover's embrace! Or perhaps you are better suited to these lustrous gems, forged in the maw of fire mountains afar! Mortal danger is no excuse to not live lavishly!"

He waves a fancy trinket around as he shouts, hoping to profit from at least one of these poor sods wandering around. Werewolves or none, money was always worth something!

The Exchange

"Silver! Zounds man, these folk barely have coppers tah rub together, I am a retiree an have jus enough tah get by."

the Baker

Dans' eyebrows raise at both the mention of 'a killing' and of silver and money. The portly man moves over the the entrepreneur; "Aye, see thee wares are right grand. Very nice, but you probably won't get much takers around 'ere. Not at these prices." he says in a sly tone as he strokes his jowls. "Why don't I take 'em off your hands for.... what would you say is reasonable."

Dan tries to keep a smile on his floury face as he tries to haggle with the man.

Bruce sat at the bar reading the crumpled missive again for the hundreth time. Finishing off his mug, he knocked it on the counter to catch Whitey's attention. Another round Master McWhite, if you please.

The crest of Bruce's father, Lord Stilgrasen, adorns the cracked wax that had sealed the letter and matched the plaque hanging over the burgeoning lumber mill towards the edge of town. As the full mug finds its way in front of him, Bruce can't help but grumble to the barkeep. Of course father isn't concerned about something as trivial as a return of the wolves to the town. No the bloody man reminds me of my duty to the family as if he has ever let me forget it before. He raises the mug in a half-hearted salute to no one in particular before downing half of it.

I must be a damned fool for trying to stick it out here, regardless of what father would do if I left.

Super Scientist & Inventor

Whitey walks up with a small keg that has a spout protruding from the front of it grasped under his arm. In his opposite hand he holds a stein that is half full. He stumbles about half drunk and drinks viciously from the stein.

"Care to try the latest brew? I just tapped the keg"

Whitey almost goes crosseyed for a second. He then takes a big gulp from the stein.

"Its good..."

Totally not a Werewolf

Miss Devries strolled restlessly through the stacks, hoping to find a book that would solve all of their problems. She had scoured the Dewey Decimal System from end to end on the off chance that she had accidentally misfiled some precious tome that would tell them all they needed to know about dealing with werewolves, but so far all her books could provide scant comfort. Her heart sped up around 398.2, but the book had only contained partially transliterated interviews with the aboriginal peoples who had vanished hundreds of years ago. The answer might well be in there, but it would take far too many nights of research to work through a translation and by then...

There was another spike of excitement around 753 but it turned out to be only a grizzly retelling of the gruesome deaths of those who had tried to explore the Wierwood before Sir Keinly's "triumph". Hardly inspiring. She had made it through 839 and was puzzling her way through an archaic colloquial German account of the wolves of the Black Forest of Deutschland when all the ruckus outside made it quite impossible to continue.

She strides out the doorway of the library/school house and confronts Vorian with her hands on her hips, her small stature forcing her to look up at the man. "Please sir, go hawk your baubles elsewhere! Some of us are trying to work on a solution to this problem rather than line our pockets with gold! I know your type, you're the mercenary sort who would take every last bent penny from folks in need to sell a silver letter opener, only to turn tail and flee town before we could find out it was just tin plated! Well, we don't need your type here, Mister Ritter- park your rubbish somewhere else and let us focus on the matter at hand."

The thought crosses her mind, Unless he's trying to distract us from doing something about the werewolves...

Her eyes narrow as she glowers at the merchant and her gaze takes on a suspicious, appraising air.

the Baker

As the striking lady strides up, Dan listens. "Yeah, unless your willing to let that cigar cutter away for say.... 15 shillings?" Dan asks 'screwdly' whilst scratching his stubble with a doughy finger. He turns the librarian; "How's thee today?"

The Exchange

"Aye an you are correct bent coppers are much harder tah rub together."

"This is a serious situation, an some men find comfort in the coin an others in other things....please continue your search....has a message been sent for assistance of the governor?"

Gentleman Adventurer

Vorian frowns, taken aback by the rather critical crowd. Hearing them all out, he crafts what he hopes to be a convincing argument.

"Milady, in dark times such as these, certainly the rational thing to do is continue our lives as though they were normal. The mind can do dangerous things if left unchecked. I merely wish to bring comfort to those that might fall to panic otherwise - for a perfectly affordable price, of course."

As though to make a point of this, he smiles warmly at Dan. "Surely you would be willing to offer but 5 shillings more?" he says, though it in fact killed him to sell the trinket for less than 40.

Totally not a Werewolf
Dan Haworth wrote:
"How's thee today?"

Alessandra sighs and blows an unruly bit of hair out of her face, "I'm just about at my wit's end! I don't see how everyone can be so matter-of-face about all of this after what happened to Sir Keinly. Just the thought that one of the villagers- one of my friends- could be stalking us... well, I hardly know whether to be angry or terrified!"

The Duke wrote:
"Has a message been sent for assistance of the governor?"

"Aye, the mayor himself bore word when he fled with the children. The craven fellow might not be good for much but I'm sure he can deliver the message and look after his wards... but I don't see how any aid could possibly reach us in time. I'm afraid we're on our own. I can't blame people for sending the children away, much as I'll miss them this is no place for the youngsters. I wish that blasted preacher hadn't been so stubborn- Lorelei doesn't belong here at all, poor child."

Totally not a Werewolf
The profiteer wrote:
"Milady, in dark times such as these, certainly the rational thing to do is continue our lives as though they were normal. The mind can do dangerous things if left unchecked. I merely wish to bring comfort to those that might fall to panic otherwise - for a perfectly affordable price, of course."

"B&~#~~+s! The rational thing to do is to find out who Sir Keinly infected and do whatever it takes to make sure they can't hurt anyone... are you trying to distract us from that goal with your trinkets?"

Thoen inserts himself into the conversation, his considerable size and voice making it impossible to ignore him.
"The lady is correct in that we cannot just stand by in the face of this threat under the pretense that all is well! We must take action to protect ourselves and our families!" Turning to Vorian, he continues, "I have spent the past day forging bars and new locks to protect the homes of our people, but my usual supplier has fled and I am out of materials; have you any iron among your wares?"

the Baker

Dan looks worriedly between everyone; "Aye, 'tis certainly worrying times. I am sure that I won't last t' week. The wolf is certainly sure to go for me, they'll be sure to like a large meal." he tries to inject a big of humour.

He leans over to Vorian leaning lightly; "20 shillings, hey let no-one say Dan's not fair I'll give thee a Guinea." (21)

Ice Cream Man

Eldon, amongst the gathered crowd, grows angry at the mention of the lack of iron. He gives the baker a glower at his attempt at humor, then marches up to Thoen. "So you say you still can't replace my shovel? You know I haven't been able to dig a proper hole since my good one broke burying Keinly."

Insufferable Lout

At that moment, Taraz chooses to stand up from behind the barrel where he he had been quite not-so-secretly watching the elegant form of the beautiful professor and the wondrous movements of her fine dress. Swish-swish.

"Don't wuurry, Professhur. I would be happy to protect you. Of curse, you sshhould conshider leeting me shtay in yur parlor tonight, so I cam make shure yur ssafe."

In his own mind, Taraz strides up to the Professor's side the picture of confidence and masculinity. Instead his scrawny form staggers forward almost pitching into the dirt.

"Jes lemme git sum silver from the man, here. Then I will be all shet, Professhur." Reaching for the first shiny bit he sees, Taraz completely misses the fact that he has moved "too" close to the elegant lady and his shuffling feet have gotten entangled in her hem.

Taraz promptly falls face first into the merchant's display, most likely causing quite a mess.

the Baker

Dan crouches down with his knees groaning; "Here mate, I'll get thee up. Ya cannae be protecting t' lass if yer half-cut. I've got some nut-bread and honey, guareenteed t' 'elp a dicky tummy." he says kindly remembering the times he was in a similar situation, never with a beutiful woman but...

Insufferable Lout

Drunkenly, Taraz squints up at the baker.

"Dan? Uggh..." Taraz clutches his head in one hand some type of fine ribbon dangling from his ear.

"I think the werewolf just shried to kill me..."

the Baker

Talking softly, "Nawh, ya jus' tried to chat up t' pretty library lady then fell in t' table..." he has a shrewd look in his eye. "Unless ya talking about last night?" the baker says whilst with a white finger gently removes the pink ribbon from Taraz's ear. "Don't think that's your colour?" he says placing it back on the remnants of Ritters' table.

Turning to the proprietor, he gently places the guinea of coins to one side and takes the cigar cutter.

Insufferable Lout

"'Til I got haffa cup o' beer thiz morn, I DID think they'd had a go at me. Corse, I dunn't 'member much after that eighth shot o' whiskey. Well...eightISH." Looking around Taraz sees the mess he made, but seems unfazed. "Sssurry, Ritter, my man. Looksh like the werewolf meshed erp yer shtall a bit. Let me help you fixsh it."

With Dan's help Taraz regains his feet and begins to "fix" the display. If Taraz's assistance is in any way helpful in restoring the stall, it isn't apparent.

Taraz turns and blinks at the mature librarian. "Well, Profes-feshur...shall we retire to study you? Er, yur shtudy?" He offers his arm as if he is a true gentlemen. His swaying and dirty clothes seem to mar the effect. As if anyone would mistake him for a man of breeding.

the Baker

He leans over to his occassional drinking companion; "Are you sure you want to be locked in a room with her, she might bite?"

Insufferable Lout

Taraz's eyes go wide, and his voice escalates from a whisper to a yell

"Dan, are you shaying that she...she...I mean that the Prof-profeshur...PROFESSOR ALESSANDRA DEVRIES IS THE WEREWOLF!!

The last bit comes out at the top of Taraz's lungs.

Totally not a Werewolf

The professor wrinkles her nose and takes a few steps back from the drunkard then takes a deep breath and sighs. Given the circumstances, who could blame the fellow for trying to drown his sorrows in drink?

She gently tries to dissuade him, "Truly I'm touched by your gallantry, Taraz... but we need to think of the entire village. It would hardly be fitting for us to cower in fear while our friends are devoured. No, I think we should gather wood for a bonfire tonight so we can keep watch over each other and do what must be done to anyone who turns into a wolf."

"Wait- what was that about the werewolf trying to kill you?"

Totally not a Werewolf

The professor levels a stern glar at Dan.

She's quite good at stern glares.

After a moment, in the echoing silence that fills the village square after Taraz's proclomation she chides him, "Really Dan, was that necessary? Go bake a loaf or something if you don't have anything constructive to say!

the Baker

Dan blushes at Taraz's loud words, but not denying them. As the librarian speaks, he nods. Moving to speak to her; "Nice evasion, my dearie, both of the invitation and the accusation. But a bonfire would be interesting, provided no-one sneaks of to the woods. For a 'call of nature' or other assignation." he gruffly replies.

Gentleman Adventurer

Chronologically out of whack, but bear with me if you can!

Vorian pats himself on the back over his small victory, grinning as he makes the sale with Dan. "Thank you kindly, good sir!" He then turns to Thoen.

"Iron? I am afraid not, though... ah! I do have a cadre of tools and bauble made of the stuff, perhaps they could be smelted?" He tried not to sound too hopeful about the proposition. And yet, with an air of triumph, he casts a casual glance at the Professor, a smirk on his face.

"And that, my lady, is just one thing that I can contribute to this effort. What have you and your dusty tomes have to offer, hm? After all, surely it is from them that you became familiar with this idea that werewolves have unsavory business practi-"

Before he could finish his taunt, the drunken Wastrel topples falls onto the crude display stand Vorian had spent the morning setting up, causing it to topple over, dumping jewelery and clothing everywhere. The merchant could only look on in horror, his mouth hanging open.

"I... I need a drink."

the Baker

"Harumph, I like the morning that's when I does me baking. You may spend thee night reading, Professor lady." he grumps as he stomps around. "Aye drink."

Thoen is unfazed by Eldon's anger, and replies to him calmly. "On the contrary, Eldon, you shovel is in my shop ready for you to pick up. You know I always keep my word, especially when not doing so would come at the expense of another man's work." Thoen then turns to Taraz, taking him gently but firmly by the arm.
"Come on Taraz. It's time to get you sober again; being as drunk as you are is not a good idea at a time like this."
He proceeds to lead him down the street and dunk his head several times in the horse trough in front of the inn, calling back to the professor "I will see which others I can gather for the bonfire, but in the mean time I must try to find more iron--Although if I cannot, I will take you up on your offer Vorian."

Totally not a Werewolf


The professor addresses Vorian with just a hint of a scowl. "Matter of fact, I do have a rather promising tome about the werewolves of Germany that might be of some use. I don't suppose you speak enough German to be helpful in speeding up the translation...? I thought not. Fine, if you must continue to hawk your wares would you at least try to keep it somewhat quiet?"

With that Alessandra heads back into the library, carefully wiping her feet at the threshold.

I'm done for the night. Excellent start, everyone :D

Ice Cream Man

While Eldon's anger seems to subside, but only a portion. "Good to hear. Way things are going, looks like I'll be busy. Gonna grab a drink first, I'll stopy by and grab it when I head back." With that Eldon heads to the pub.

Human Oracle 5 / Witch 1 | init +3, per +1 | AC 16/13/13 | HP 19/37 | Fort +1, Reflex +4, Will +11 | CMB +4, CMD 17

stepping back to Taraz's outburst

Typical drunk, blundering about and upsetting the peace, as if any can be had these days

Simon quickly shuffles past the crowd in the square, a thick garland of wolfbane adorning his neck and draped down his chest. He watches as the kind baker helps the inebriated man to his feet, but the wastrels eyes go wide and he loudly proclaims the librarian is a werewolf.

Good gods man, she is the smartest among us, were she a werewolf this whole village would have perished already

Enough with the distractions my friends, we've no need for baubles, shovels, or baked goods. Let us gather in Mr. McWhite's establishment and discuss this tome the good lady has located.

Simon sheepishly scampers to the tavern, regardless of who follows suit, and takes a seat at the bar near Bruce.

Mr. McWhite, a mug of your ale good sir, me nerves are a jitter and we need to focus. The moon rises full tonight and evil lurks among us, strength in numbers will be our only salvation from this curse.

The strange alien has been moving through the village. He looks around with interest and a sense of nostalgia.

"Werewolves are about, be wary of them."

Super Scientist & Inventor

Whitey greets Simon with a with a big toothless smile. He is still sporting the small keg under his arm.

"Have a mug of this to calm your nerves!"

Whitey slams the keg on the counter then ducks down beneath and grab a large mug. He lifts the keg under-arm again and pulls the tap controlling the spout on the front of it. He pours Simon a tall, refreshing ale.

"Is that what the crowd drawing in front of my Pub is yammering on about, Werewolves? I thought this problem was solved already. Its a shame so many of the towns people have already left. Business is slow as a result."

"Edlon, what can I get you? The new batch is here for sampling unless there is something else you're interested in drinking."

Male Human Blood Sucking Barrister / Lvl 5

Tristen sits quietly in the corner, nursing a tumbler of whiskey, his head propped dejectedly on his palm. "Why did I come here? Why?" He sighed, trailing his finger round the rim of the glass in thought.

"It is not like I KNEW Uncle all that well. I would be better off at home, in Lancaster, where there are no werewolves, no aliens and no old drunken coots. Well... Atleast no Aliens and Werewolves!" Sighing, he takes a sip of whiskey and shudders softly. 'Foul stuff...'

Also going to bed now.
Vote currently for Wowbagger--Aliens have all sorts of ulterior motives--unless someone changes Thoen's mind before the end of the cycle.

Gentleman Adventurer

Reveling in his Pyrrhic victory, Vorian speechlessly gathers up his scattered goods, far too flustered to construct any coherent sentences. The nerve of that Professor! Sure, it was the drunk that had wrecked his stand, but he might have been more alert if the shrew hadn't flaunted her wit at him!

Having cleaned the mess, he ponders the drunken man's accusation towards her, and how casually she seemed to brush it off. Too casually, at that. And what sane person would lock themselves in a room with nothing but dirty books all night long? Something wasn't right here.

With a sigh of resignation, Vorian enters the pub and slaps his hard-earned profit of 21 shillings before the bartender. "My good man, what drink would you recommend for taking my troubles off my mind for the night?"

Super Scientist & Inventor

"I have a bottle of Moonshine. It will take your mind off all troubles, unless you go blind. That only happened once though."

Ice Cream Man

"Werewolf talk be damned. I just want a drink. If that's the new stuff you've got there, go ahead and pour me one." Eldon takes his drink and a seat at the bar.

Gentleman Adventurer

"I can drink to that. Or without that, even. Moonshine it is."

Super Scientist & Inventor

Whitey pours Vorian a shot.
Whitey also pours one for himself.
Whitey then pours a few extra in case anybody else wants one.

He picks up his glass and raises it in the air and speaks in a loud voice that spreads across the room and out the open door to the remainder of the crowd outside.


The Exchange

The older gentleman quite tired from all the excitement has fallen alseep in a comfortable chair......

the Baker

Dan looks at Wowbagger critically; "Is that a statement? That now you are around werewolves are about?" he shakes his head at this.

"Well Mr. Wowbagger let us show you some hospitality. To the pub." Dan makes a brief stop at his bakery off the square. Enters the pub and places a large crusty loaf on the table alongside a large pot of honey.

"Everyone tuck in, fresh bread and honey. Sorry it's not warm but..." Dan cuts a slice of bread off and dips it in the sticky liquid. 'If I am nice now when this is over, everyone will like me and buy more bread. I am cunning.' He smiles to himself as he downs a shot.

Totally not a Werewolf

The professor pursed her lips as she considered her latest find:

...Olaus Magnus, a Catholic Archbishop in 1490 claimed that werewolves were able to transform by drinking beer...

Could it be? This definitely merited further research.

Bruce raises the shot to Whitey's toast before downing it. Grabbing a chunk of the offered bread, he takes a bite and watches the people around him. Most he recognized easily enough but there were a few newer faces to the village. How convenient the timing of some of these new arrivals.

Ice Cream Man

At Whitey's toast, Eldon mutters to himself before taking a drink. "You'll all keep me busy if you try to tangle with 'em."

Gentleman Adventurer

"Hear, hear!" Vorian offers, before downing his own drink. The elixir was surprisingly delicious. As he moves to ask for another however, he hesitates.

Moonshine... moon... by God!

The aftertaste quickly turning from pleasant to hellish, Vorian turns to McWhite.

"Er, you wouldn't happen to have any brandy, would you?"

the Baker

As the burning moonshine pours down his throat he blinks tears out of his blurred eyes. "Good stuff." he coughs in a hoarse voice. "I gan a bitter'd lubricate me throat." He gets a foamy beer from Whitey, his usual casked brew, and supps heavily upon it.

Looking at those in the tavern he realises one or more of them could be after his blood.

Totally not a Werewolf

The professor continues her scholarship, noting common themes in many of the oft-contradictory folk tales of werewolves. They varied so completely from culture to culture that it was often impossible to saw whether the stories were referring to the sort of beasts that haunted the Weirwood or some other sort of wolf entirely. One account mentioned an interesting method of luring a beast to its death with a cunning trap, another mentioned that a silver amulet woven with wolfsbane would prevent a werewolf from leaving its human form. Three themes especially jumped out at her and caused her to seriously question members of the town.

In Russian and Scandinavian stories, lycanthropy (and therianthropy in general) had been associated with the consumption of alcohol. Combined with Taraz's ravings this had her very worried.

Many stories mentioned a stranger riding from the woods, with odd forms of speech and dress and other strange mannerisms. "Wowbagger" (what kind of name was that, anyway?) was rather too close to fitting that description for her comfort.

A well-documented trait of English werewolves was their tendency to consume freshly buried bodies. Alessandra had a sudden pang of anxiety about Eldon as she continued her reading.

Super Scientist & Inventor

Whitey downs his shot. The burning hellfire in his throat doesn't even phase him.

Vorian Ritter wrote:
"Er, you wouldn't happen to have any brandy, would you?"

"Certainly friend."

Whitey pours the brandy, spilling a great deal of it on the counter.

Following that, he stumbles around the bar and to the middle of the semi-crowded room. He pulls out a chair from underneath the nearest table and stands on it and shouts to the room.

I just want to let everybody know that the Pub will be closing early tonight for the bonfire! Have your fill until then, but please keep in mind I will be asking everybody to clear out shortly. Thank you!"

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