Vahktang

Yes, we have enough people for a baner.If you bane the victim they live. Bane a wolf and the hit goes on. Unless there is only one wolf left. Works best that way in the genre. If there any objections, note them here, we'll talk.

PM descriptions are fine, unless otherwise noted.You are all a bunch of sick 'F's, but that's good in this game. Top ten most wanted (in no particular order) Shamus "Heartbreaker" O'Brien - Merelas Simona 'Da Vinci' Ciotti - dragonqueen Sammy "the Gator" Bosselli - YanYanGanaffi Vinny "The X-Terminator" Nolen - Gnarlitch Leif "The Bunny" Eirikson - LeifTheBunny Saya "Sakura" ('the Sakurazukamori') Shizuka - Elwen Max "Gutterball" Klatz - Katzaniel Mickey 'the skin' van Rensberg - cryptomancer And looks like we'll have enough to play. Game begins officially Monday. People can still sign up until then. You can go role play over to the Mafia Thread over the weekend. And this will be the OOC thread. We're going to try something different. Unless people object, here is where actual OOC accusations are made. The Mafia! thread is for Role Playing only. That includes private thoughts, character action descriptions, etc. Scorecard will be located here, also. As mentioned before, players may PM plans, etc, with each other. Just please PM a copy.

It is the tallest building in the world, and they were three floors below the observation deck. "We're so high up I could knock out a sattelite with the right rifle," said The X-Terminator The Sakurazukamori smiles but her outward face holds no change expression. She knows that The X-terminator dumb thug act is just that, a facade, and that many have fallen for it, fatally. She finds him amusing but also has great caution. One of her facets in her rise to sucess was never underestimating anyone. That and- Her thoughts are interrupted. An older man is tapping a fine crystal water glass with a pure silver spoon. It is Tony Avacado's trusted lieutenant, Ari Ivanall, israeli international lawyer. "Stop the tapping, old man," growls Gutterball. "Yes, we are here out of respect for the memory of Tony Avacado," says The Skin. "Wasting our valuable time would be a mistake." "Please, gentlemen and ladies," says Ari, his voice as smooth as oil. "I mean no disrespect for all and sundry. I only mean to play a recording." He hits a remote, the lights dim and a screen appears. The face of Tony Avacado comes on, handsome, rugged. It was said that he braved the jungles of death and the cannibal women therein to come out with a small fortune, then used that small fortune to gain wealth and power. Now he is dead. "Now I am dead," says the recording. "But my work can go on. Everyone realizes that with me as leader of Organized Crime our profits soared like no time before, while our safety remained the same. No other crime syndicate, organization or individual dared touch us. And we handled the law well, too. That can go on. But you must work together. "I know the ambition is to take my place, to become Boss of Bosses. But if you stay the course, there is enough pie for everyone. Try to bite off more than you can chew, and the others will make you choke on it. "Just a few words to the already wise." The recording ends and the lights go up. The bosses in the room talk amoungst each other, agreeing about the new era of co-operation. While some make other plans.

A familiar beat is heard and a call out from the chorus: Thriller! (sure, I stole it from a movie, but it's still a great idea) The Candidate and his entourage take to the dance floor. They have practiced, and the secret service agents make excellent zombies. Others join in. "C'mon, Tanny, it's Thriller."

Are we setting up a sequel, here? Twenty years later, another village, maybe in Kentucky or the Ohio territories, everyone playing a 'reinvented chatacter'? Hmmm.

Kewl. The Dominican Republic? Not Algiers, Casablanca specifically? Work at The American Cafe? That would have been fun.

Good characters. Nice and ruthless. But still small time. This is the country you're controlling. And other countries you are influencing. Age yourselves ten years or so. You're at the top of the game, here.

A small crowd gathers around The Candidate when he calls out: "If elected, I promise gas at a quarter a gallon. "That's right, less then .25 cents a gallon for gasoline. "How would I do it? "I have a grand plan. "Move the decimal place over. "On everything. "At a precise date, the decimal point will be moved over for everything in america. "You will be able to buy a median priced house, for less than $30,000. "You will be able to get into the movies, for less than a dollar. "Penny candy will come back. "And there are those that say 'hey, what about my wages?' "Well, look at the bright side, you can tell you kids 'when I was a kid, my first job payed less than a dollar an hour. "Blues songs will have meaning again. "'worked all day, hardly made a dollar.' "It will be good for America, it will be good for you. "Support me in my bid to become your President. "I thank you and God Bless.

Well, it has been suggested that we can run two WW games at the same time. Here's the test. Sign up here for the Mafia! werewolf game. Here's the synopsis: Mafia The boss is dead. Who will be the boss? Each of the players will be a crime boss. Everybody knows each other. Choose a name, somewhat ethnic. Doesn't have to be Italian, there were Jewish mafia and there are Russian Mafia. And choose a moniker, something that has to do with your past, could be crime related. For example, Ricky 'Cats' Rodriquez and Mack 'No Money' Mahoney. They grew up in the same neighborhood. One day, somebody bet Ricky that he couldn't put 5 alley cats down his pants for 5 minutes. That person was Mack and he bet all the money he'd ever make that Ricky couldn't do it. Choose a crime, public that everybody knows but can't pin on you, possibly what made your reputation on (you stole the Pink Panther or you were the French Connection or you killed the Black Dahlia) And choose a private crime, PM it to me, it may be revealed later. Right now, organized crime is being run by the players, as a syndicate. Wolves are those that want the top position to themselves. The others want to prevent that and will ally themselves to take the wolves down. The Seer is one with vast undercover resouces, double men, wire taps, inroads with the justice department and the OCB. The seer can tell who is making a play for the top, and who like the status quo and the profit therin. Unlike other games, players are actively encouraged to PM, ally, etc with each other. And betray one another, too. This ain't no fricking low life Jersey Mob. This is the big time. This is: Mafia! PM alliances are allowed and encouraged. Please send me a copy of any PM's. Presence of the Baner depends on number of players. Asian, Oceanic, etc gangs are allowed. Lot of room in crime. Come join for fun. Be a bad guy (uh, lass, other, etc) Sign up here, include your moniker and your public crime.

GD FS PSB [/cursing] Sorry, no, your arguements did not convince me.You were the the wolf over at Kenzerco for the Rainbow 6 game. Figured the chances of Tanny being wolf in two places as one in 25. Went with the odds and what did it get me? Ah well. See what metagaming gets you. Disappointed I didn't get to shoot someone. And didn't get ripped apart by demons/wolves/bewitched wolves, etc. Ah well. Fun ending to the game. Did Anne Arynn ever influence the eventual Haliwell line? Loved the justification postings. Yep.

The Candidate sees the people doing the dance, and joins in.His entourage does not, but his handler does make a feeble attempt. Afterwards, he goes over to shake Papa Smurfs hand, two leaders of the free world.

Thomas Parcel stands in front of the church. "Until this evil is rooted out, we can not risk our church being further desacrated. "Until it can be reconsecrated, there will be no services therein. "We will have services out in the natural area, worshipping under God's grace in the open. And hope we do not get rained on too much. "I have written other villages to send a force to help us in this, and give warnings against the warlock Donovan James. "I say unto you to consider this: "This land is cursed. "Let us leave it to the evil that prey upon civilized man. "We should return to England. "Abandon this new world to the hell that it has become. Silence follows this announcement. Parcel nods. "Good. Then it is the will of this village to fight for this land, to not shy away when forces attempt to overcome us. God has given this trial to test us. And we will succeed. Later on, at the arguement between the two. "You have accused before, Silence."And done us wrong because of it. "You break God's law, bearing false witness, the ninth commandment. "You are a wicked, wicked girl. "Willful by your own admission of sneaking out and spying. "You use your women's tears as a weapon to break a man's resolve. They will do no good here. From an earlier post: He spies something, in her hand.He snatches it quickly. "Papist. Iconist. He raises his hand to slap her but she slyly dodges away. "I accuse you, Silence Whitney. "Of witchcraft. "Of causing the death of the Reverend, my wife and your own mother. "And influencing the people of this village to accuse Samantha Bones. "Your confederate, Donovan James has fled, but you will not. "Seize her. OOC: accuse Silence Whitney

The Candidate Enters Music precedes him, a remix of 'Hail to the Chief' with lots of scratching, very groovy, and somewhat mainstream. A man appears, in a somber, dark blue suit, dark glasses, tell tale bulge under his arm. He scans the room, speaks into his cuff for a moment, then listens to an earpiece. He then nods, then moves further into the room. The Candidate appears, tall, confident looking, smiling, suited, with a small american flag pin on his lapel. He waves to the crowd. His phalanx of secret service men and handlers enter with him, keeping a distance but keeping him secure. A portable podium is set up. He touches the microphone and there is a moment of feedback until a handler adjusts things. The Candidate steps up to the microphone and speaks, his voice deep, authoratative, trusting: "My fellow..." and here pauses until a handler whispers in his ear, "Penites," and smiles," I wish to announce here my candidacy as your choice for President. Vote for me, you'll be treated right." At this point a big grin and two thumbs up, then serious again. "I know you. I am one of you. And we need each other. Please, come to me with your issues, and you and I will do our best to solve them." "I thank you and gawd bless." He steps away from the podium and goes to 'press the flesh', handshaking with the other party goers.

Scorecard, please.

Has it started? Where do I go again? I need my handlers to lead me. I'm a busy presdential candidate.

Hellooooo? Anybody out there? Are we stuck in a time warp?

I did have a nice day, thank you. I got a birthday wish from the good people over at the Kenzerco boards. Played a favorite game with my buddies. Thanks all.

Jinkies. I'm in. And, as my traditional costume in an election year, I am: Your Presidential Candidate. Anybody got any babies to kiss? I show up, conservative suit, little american flag button, flanked by buddies as secret service agents, there to press the flesh and get some votes. And espose my presidential philosophies, and get you, the voters, take on the many important issues of the day. It's either that or the mad costumer: Dress me in my silver garters, dress me in my diamond studs I want my undulating undies with the maribou frills! I want my beautiful bolero with the porcupine quills! I want my purple nylon girdle with the orange blossom buds In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inner lining made of Chesapeake mouse! I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinolin fringe I want my lavender spats and in addition to them I want my honey-colored gosset with the herring bone hem I want my softest little jacket made of watermelon suede And my long persimmon placket with the platinum braid I want my leg of mutton sleeves and in addition to those I want my cutie chamois booties with the leopard skin bows I want my pink brocaded bodice with the floofy fuzzy ruffs And my gorgeous bright blue bloomers With the monkey feather cuffs I want my organdy snood and in addition to that I want my chiffon Mother Hubbard lined with Hudson Bay rat Imagine someone looking like that. I mean without throwing up.

Well, I tried to make it special. Can we get a scorecard, please? More later, Vahktang

Thomas again launches himself at the Governor. Again the strong men hold him back. "There, there is the proof we need." "He accuses the accuser." "That is no defence." "A man comes late at night, to his home, uninvited, and the visitor is surprised when he is not allowed inside? "Courtesy for uncourtesy, for not calling at a more opportune time. "No surprise there." He looks at those holding him. "Unhand me and take him up." OOC: no, I don't want to continue with two votes. Wait till tomorrow. (On the otherhand, since the two votes _are_ against the governor... Let it stand. )

Thomas suddenly breaks down. Screams: "Amelia!" He looks to the governor, murder in his eyes. He leaps towards him and only the quick work of several strong men keep him from physically assaulting the governor. "Good, good job men," says Donovan, taking a step back. "He is sick with grief. His counsel is disturbed. He needs time for this unfortanate- "Witchcraft! By you, your honor," Thomas says, the last phrase scornfully. "That candle holder was held solid to the wall. It was no accident. Only through magics dark and unchristian acts can this deed be done and made to look innocent. "And the doer of the deed is one who is above reproach. One who we see as our protector. "Governor Donovan James. "I have the proof. I see things in the numbers that others don't. The books I keep on all of you, the accounts of the colony, they tell the tale. "Despite what may happen to me, I accuse Governor Donovan James of the foul deed of witchcraft, and I will prosecute him myself in court to prove it." OOC: There, a public accusation. Thought it was time for one. Oh, I accuse Cryptomancer--Donovan James Of being a wolf.

A knock at the door in the early evening.Amelia looks up from her knitting, Thomas from his reading, the children from their storytelling. The adults share a look and Thomas gets up. "Who is it," he calls to the outside. "Governor Donavan James," says the outside visitor. I would have a word with you." Thomas opens up the door and steps outside to save his family from the wind and cold. Governor James was a little miffed at not being invited inside and Thomas picked up on that. "I am sorry, Governor. It is late and we are not prepared for an official visit-" "If this was an official visit I would visit you officially. Umh, harump. In any case, I invite you to join me at the store, to discuss matters." Thomas was honored that the Governor would come here himself and invite him. He had heard of the strong words and weak cider that would be shared by men of importance in the colony over to the store on occaision. This was his first invitation. "Why, of course, your honor. I would be honored. Let me just get my cloak," he said, just then feeling the bite of the wind. He begins to enter the house when the governor catches his arm. "And bring the books, the accounts." Then releases him. Thomas goes to grab his cloak and mentions to his wife that he will be out and not know when he will return. "The Governor, himself, asked me to attend." He does not mention his suspicions. That he had been going over the accounts himself to try and find who may be witches and there had been no evidence, no pattern, that cried out "This, this one does not follow god!" Maybe the Governor would see something in the numbers that Thomas did not, but he doubted it. The Governor's skills did not extend to the minutae of accounts and finances.

I just noticed:Any particular reason our governor has an _irish_ first name? It being an English colony and all? Once again, the nit picker strikes. What? What's that? It's only a game, not a history lesson, get over it? OK. No more nit picking.

There's an old play called 'The Blue Bird'.Shirley Temple did a movie version in it. When the two kids go to visit their grandparents, they go where you always go to visit your grandparents. The graveyard. You look at biographies of the time and they're number 8 of 11 surviving children and such. It's a bleak time. Signing out, Vahktang the nit picker historian.

The reverend is Dead. Oh God save us all. Some say that a death by witch craft can hold the soul of the departed. They do not rest easy, they do not go to their reward.One of the reasons why witchcraft is just so, so, evil. A witch that got to the reverend must have been a trusted person. A peer. A...governor? Oh, that is not a thought to be made in public. Even a non witch governor could destroy him and his family. I must wait. Watch. Gather proof. Talk to my wife. He entered the storeroom that led to the outside kitchen cabin. "Amelia, honey? "Just how many kids do we have again? She laughed. As always, many of the neighborhood children were in and around his house, playing with the many toys that he carved during the long winter. "Seven, eight, I've lost count. He looked about, and she did the same. No children in the room, or in sight. They exchanged a quick kiss and for once he did not hear the giggling of hidden children. He smiled then put in his more somber expression. There was still daylight and the children's chores had been done. It was no problem letting them run now and get tired for later. He nodded to the servent girl as she came in from the kitchen. "Blessa." "Sir," she said, and did a marginal curtsy, allowable considering the large full pot she was carrying. Blessa continued to take the pot through the house to the table in the front of the house where the bonded men were awaiting their supper after a hard days work in the field. Again, he looked around for observers, but this time looking outside for eavesdroppers. Satisfied, he looked back to see a slight frown on his goodwife's face. "You know we have another witch in Salem." Shocked by his abruptness, she stammered. "Yes. The widow Arthur and I suspect it may be Silence Whitney." He thinks. One so young. Not even of marriageable age. "I don't think so. A victim of Satan, yes. A caller, I don't think so. "The widow Bones on the other hand..." "That sweet woman?" "Last you'd suspect." A child's cry came from the front of the house. He stopped and looked worried and looked towards Amelia. She gave a soft laugh. "It's only the Harris boy falling again. Probably into the goose pond. No harm done." "How do you know that from the sound only?" "How do you know your figures. Practice." She leaves with a backward glance for her husband leaving him with his own thoughts. 'I must protect this village. Maybe my records will tell me something.' He goes to his office to pore over the books and the accounts considering the widow Bones. And not forgetting the Governor. A vote for Eyremoon--Samantha Bones, widow