Venefyxatu

Rudydur blinked happily now that the Grinch's agent had been discovered. It used all colours in the rainbow, and then several that weren't in any colour palette known on the north pole, or anywhere else on the planet. With some effort, it even managed to get out a crackling christmas tune, although it quickly stopped doing that when it heard how horribly mangled that sounded. Green blue blue blue Red ye-he-llow Green blue red ye-llow purrr-pleeee White blue gold spaaaarkling octarine, Brown beige and siiiiilver yellow bronze ... OOC: Voting for Tanuchan/The Mod. No, wait, make that everyone! Or, no, Tanuchan/The Mod after all! ... "The game is over" would have been useful information before I typed those votes

As Thomas walked past Rudydur again and the latter changed its colour to yellow once more, suddenly it noticed Thomas' mood and started pondering a little more, its lights now turning green and purple, the equivalent of a brow frowned in concentration. After all, there hadn't been any accidents last night. Not even any accidents involving axes. Perhaps that was thanks to Thomas being there, instead of thanks to Thomas being there but not being able to decide what accident to cause. Hmmm ... And perhaps, or possily quite certainly, Joaquim really had been the only agent that the Grinch had managed to sneak in here. Perhaps every time someone accused someone else now, they were falsely accusing one of their own! There was no real way to be certain, though, at least until another accident happened. The next time Thomas walked past Rudydur, which had gotten its name as the result of an elaborate joke among some packaging elves, he noticed that it was cheerfully blinking many colours again. OOC: Changing my vote once again to nobody at all. Because there really weren't any accidents. Besides, I'm a strand of christmas lights. If I get to change colours all the time, why not votes?

Rudydur, being an object, didn't really need to sleep, although it did dim its lights at night to allow the living creatures some shut-eye. Being the good strands of christmas lights it was, it used this to keep an eye out for suspicious nightly activity. And what did it notice, but a large man strolling around with an axe in the dark? Talk about suspicious ... That day, whenever Thomas passed by the window, which wasn't very often, Rudydur's lights flashed bright yellow. OOC: Changing vote to Thomas / Savage Dragon, because, let's face it, axes at night are suspicious ...

Rudydur was blinking more happily now that everything seemed to be going well again. It was snugly plugged in to a power outlet, its arch-nemesis Joaquim wouldn't be around this Christmas to unplug it anymore and, well, everyone seemed to be doing a really great job. As an experiment, it made several of its lights blink two or three colours at the same time, resulting in special, never-before seen colours on strands of Christmas lights. OOC: No vote, since my arch-nemesis has been taken care of and, well, nobody tried to kill me

Unplugged, there was nothing Rudydur could do anymore other than ... well ... nothing.

Just as soon as it was turned off, Rudydur turned itself back on again, this time a brighter, more angry-looking red. "-- ..- .-. -.. . .-. . .-. -.-.-- "* After getting this message out, it started blinking more slowly again, dimming its lights a bit out of respect for Octopy. *Murderer! OOC: Breaking the tie and changing votes to the murdering postman, Mith/Joaquim

When Rudydur woke up and saw what had happened to poor Octopy it blinked on its lights much dimmer than usually. It didn't put on a cheerful display of changing colours this time, just a sad, dark red shine moving sideways. - .... . --. .-. .. -. -.-. .... ... - .. -. -.- ... * * The Grinch stinks OOC: Voting for Patrick/Grumpy, because drunken elves don't mix well with tangly elves.

Joaquim hadn't turned his back yet when the lights blinked on again, this time red only. "-- ..- .-. -.. . .-. . .-. -.-.-- "* After that, they went back to blinking various colours at a slightly more sedate pace. * Murderer! OOC: Voting for Joaquim / Mith. Whattayamean the game hasn't begun yet?

Click Jingle bells, jingle bells ... jingle bzzt, crackle, krrzzzzzttttt Oh man ... another year without the jingle. When are they finally going to fix that part of me? Rudydur the strand of Christmas lights sighed unhappily as it realized that it wouldn't be able to cheer up the place with some music. It was far too optimistic to remain sad for long, though, so instead it just decided to flicker its lights extra hard this year, with some special colours. Red, red, green, Red red green, Red, green, blue and pink. Yellow, white and back to red, Red, green, blue and pink! That was better...

Dibs on the strand of christmas lights hanging around the window!

As he walked home after the latest lynching, Ezekiel could not help but feel a sense of ... relief? Not just that, but also the rush of having successfully pulled something off, of having survived his first settlement as a werewolf. There weren't enough villagers left to be a threat anymore: the best they would be able to accomplish by ganging up would be forming a tasty walking buffet. The only problem that remained now was Alex. He was a loyal servant, and a very good one at that, but how to approach telling him that he was working for a werewolf? Ezekiel didn't want to lose a servant such as him, but doubted he'd be able to keep his secret for much longer. The man was pretty observant. Back home, Ezekiel decided to take the direct approach. If it came to the worst, he'd be able to find himself a new servant. Alex came out of the kitchen, looking somewhat worried. "I heard the noises. Another lynching?" "Yes, another lynching. Another failed attempt at finding one of the wolves." "Wolves? There are more than one now?" "Two, to be precise." Alex frowned, then got a look of horror on his face as he realized what this must mean. "You mean that ..." "Yes, I mean exactly that. I also mean that, even if the entire village were to rally, there wouldn't be enough of them left to harm us." Alex took a few steps back towards the kitchen. "Don't try to run. I'm faster. I'd also hate having to kill you, you're a good servant. But don't think I won't. The way I see it, you have two options. Either you die like everyone else in this village, or you continue to be my servant in the knowledge that you are safe from both me and any other werewolves we might come across in our travels." "You don't mean to stay here, then?" "I'll run out of food, as will the other one. No, I've managed to arrange some relocation rights again - I can move freely through the southern part of the country to settle wherever I wish." "You didn't choose this town as randomly as you originally claimed, did you?" "No. The night before we left the capital I realized what I was, what I'd been all my life. I got interrupted in my hunt by the city watch, who fortunately didn't see me turn back into a human. Just as I felt the last of the wolf in me go back into hiding, I also felt it answering the call of a kindred. That's when I decided where to go, why I didn't announce where we'd settle until we came here. That the house was available was blind luck." "And now what?" "Now you choose. Live, or die?" Alex thought for a while before looking at Ezekiel with his mind clearly made up... OOC: Yes that's an open ending. What're you going to do? Eat me? Run, my little pork chops, run

Ezekiel slowly ate the cake, enjoying it while pondering what Millie had said, softly muttering to himself. "Messing with the lives of the people here? Why would I do that? What scheme could they possibly come up with that could give me a hard time?" When he'd finished his cake, he got up. "Thanks for the food ... you really are a wonderful cook." With that, he left the kitchen again to go sit among the other patrons once more, hoping that she would realize he cared more about his schemes than butchering random peasants.

Ezekiel smiled again and held her gaze. "Oh, I think I do. We might not have the same definition of it, but I think I do. I also think that you don't fully understand my way of thinking in this. The land, wealth and power are ... byproducts. Side effects. Nice to have, sure, but the thrill of watching your schemes unfold, watching the counter-schemes and reacting to them, that is what I do it for, and so many others with me. Of course, there are even more who don't see it that way, which makes it even more fun if you can get at them. Did you know that the king is one of them? Or why do you think he reacted the way he did?" "Really, I don't care about the lands and power I lost. In fact, I'm quite happy to be here. Apart from the wolves, that is." He frowned briefly before continuing. "It was peaceful here, quiet. A good place for thinking. And a wonderful way to climb back up, which is something most, if not all, of the others at the court would see as impossible."

Ezekiel accepted the offer of a chair and sat down after Millie did. "I'll start with the easy question. Why am I so secluded? I always have been. At the court, too. I make enemies more easily than I make friends so I've started avoiding people as much as I can. I know the reason is that I have quite a mean streak but, honestly, I don't care enough to try and change it. Who cares if I don't make friends? They'll betray me as soon as it benefits them anyway so I'm better off on my own. At least I know that I won't betray me. At the court, I was forced to interact with others just to scheme myself into staying alive. Here it doesn't matter... or at least it didn't until people started dying. As for why I was exiled ... that mean streak I have has quite a lot to do with it. I made a few wrong decisions which ended up with me gaining a lot of land and, as a consequence, wealth, at the expense of others." He started telling Millie a bit about how exactly he managed to do so and it was obvious from the way his eyes were shining and the way his voice sounded while he spoke that he'd really enjoyed that particular scheme. "Unfortunately for me, they were better schemers than I was and, as such, were able to not only recover everything they lost from the king's own lands, but, quite beautifully I must admit, bring everything down on my head." A strange kind of admiration was audible in Ezekiel's voice, but then he stopped talking for a few moments and smiled as he thought back about it. Millie, seeing that, shook her head and muttered how life was so much more than scheming and plotting. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I've heard it said that there is no better way to feel alive than balancing on the brink of death. At the court, a faulty scheme could mean death or worse at any time." "Yet you speak of schemes that could have gotten you killed and you seem happy about it?" Ezekiel smiled again. "Yes, yes I do. I cannot help but feel admiration for the events they set in motion and got away with. Much like a blacksmith can, I assume, admire a masterfully crafted item from a competing blacksmith, I can admire a beautifully concocted plan, even if it means my own downfall. That, and the fact that in spite of all their cleverness, I got away a lot better than they would have liked. I managed to retain most of my family's fortune as well as my life, my title and my breathing rights." Then he chuckled and added, "And I already envision their faces when they realize I've caused their downfall from this remote location. Really, there is no better way to feel alive than to be scheming with the court."

Ezekiel watched as another courier rode off in a way that he himself would like to do. Shaking his head to clear those thoughts he returned inside, carrying the package that the man had brought him. Once inside, he unwrapped it and smiled when he saw what was in it. It seemed as if his contacts were still able to get things done for him. Good. When he read the enclosed letter, he actually cheered up for the first time since the killings began. He hadn't heard such good news for ages. When he strapped his new rapier to his belt, he immediately felt a lot safer. Then he called for Alex, and gave him the second object that was in the package: a finely crafted dagger. Seeing the man's reluctance, Ezekiel insisted. "You'll be of no use to me if that werewolf gets to you, and I know nobody could ever best you with a dagger. I also know that servants ordinarily do not carry weapons, but this is no ordinary situation. I will not find you dead one morning just because you were following protocol. Carry this with you at all times, and use it if necessary. That is an order." Although he accepted the dagger reluctantly, Alex still seemed relieved. "Sir, there has been talk in the village. I've heard it starting in the inn, people are speculating about your reasons for leaving the court and coming to settle here. They think that ... they think that you might be the werewolf." Ezekiel smiled. "They would. They are but simple peasants prone to giving in to fear and superstition. Reason seems to be something that flees quickly when things do not go according to plan." "Indeed sir. Have you heard about the miller's daughter yet?" "What of her?" "She was killed. By her own father, for crying out loud. He killed her for thinking she was the werewolf." "His own daughter. Gods, this can't be ... " Ezekiel thought for a while, then looked up. "Come with me to my study." When they entered the study, Ezekiel went to his desk, took out an envelope and gave it to his servant. "Listen. If my name is already being mentioned in the rumours, they might come for me at any time. If they do, leave. Don't hang around, don't try to save me. Neither one of us can take on an angry mob, not even the two of us together. This is a letter of recommendation, detailing what happened here up until yesterday. Take it to lord Alderman, he is a fair man and will happily take you on into his staff. I might not be able to go back, but you can. Carry this, too, with you at all times, so that you do not need to come back for it if something ... unpleasant happens." They talked for a little while longer, then both of them went out into the town: Alex to go and lend a hand in the inn, Ezekiel to go and have supper there. In the inn, Ezekiel found himself a table where he could have his dinner and talk to other patrons if they were so inclined. What he could also do at that table, was listen to the conversations going on around him. After all, eavesdropping is an important skill at any court, and Ezekiel had been quite good at it. When he heard Millie's name being mentioned a few times in conversations speculating about exiled noblemen, Ezekiel nodded to himself and made his way to the kitchen. "Lady Millicent. It seems that you are wondering about my origin, and my reasons for coming here? I'm sure Alex hasn't told you anything, as is proper. But please, ask away, if you really must know." OOC: Voting for Patrick/Xander

As Ezekiel paced through his study, his mind was racing. There had to be something they could do, something to find the beast and kill it once and for all. Something more certain than just burning random people based on vague suspicions. Yet there was doubt too. Eventually we're bound to get it right. But how long would that take? How many innocents would die? But how many innocents will die if we don't do anything at all? Everyone, that's how many. But... No buts. Unless someone witnessed them transforming and lived to tell about it, there was nothing else they could do. He'd asked yesterday's courier to search for tracks, but the man said that it was impossible to determine where they went. Ezekiel sat down again and started contemplating the people in the village. OOC: voting for Harmony/Sisie because farmer's daughters are shifty. Or something. And because she didn't get any votes yet and might feel left out. Oh heck, just to vote for ANYONE and get things going again Come on people, I can't believe I'm being one of the most active players here

As he handed the letter to the courier and watched the man ride off again, Ezekiel heaved a sigh of relief that he was still capable of doing that. Part of him really wanted to get on a horse and get out of there, but there was also another part of him that refused to run away. He was a man who saw things through to the end, apparently no matter what the cost. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure whether leaving his chosen place of exile would be much safer than staying here. The king could be very ... creative when it came to punishment. Silently contemplating, he went back into his house, not wanting to hear the endless gossiping and accusations that were bound to follow another slaughter. Samuel was a strong man. If even he, though a commoner, could do nothing, then what chance do any of us have? OOC: I am soooo tempted to vote for Millie right now Seriously, though, vote goes to Cryptomancer – Enipul Mai

I'll do my best to behave from now on. See? Even brought me a halo from the store

Ezekiel went to the tavern like everyone else, remembering from his days at the court that being absent could be deadlier than a blade, deadlier than being caught alone by a werewolf. It was a pity that the owner was dead, because on the few occasions that Ezekiel had been there, he'd seen the man running a very fine establishment. The atmosphere was different now, but then again, that was to be expected. As there seemed to be plenty of food being served, Ezekiel also ordered himself a plate and, almost to his surprise, discovered that it was quite good. No match for what Alex could cook up, but still very good. In a rare moment of kindness, he stopped the girl serving him for a moment. "If I had realized the food was this good here, I would have come to eat here more often." Seeing her somewhat surprised reaction he added, in a rare moment of kindness, "Tell ... Millie, I believe? Tell her that if she needs any help here now that ... things are the way they are, she should feel free to ask my servant, Alex." He watched the girl nod and hurry away, then calmly finished his meal, making some more conversation with a few locals who happened to be close enough. He discovered that while everyone was talking about the slaughter, nobody had much more to say about it than accusations ... and none of them could agree. Later that night, back at home, he wrote several letters, hoping he would be alive the next day to give them to the messenger. OOC: Vote for Patrick/Xander, just to make it a three-way tie

Amareyha walked back to the village in utter silence, confused thoughts racing through her mind. The Sh'ynte had offended the Spirits, then claimed that they weren't Spirits at all. But the way they reacted to Firtang, the Angered Tribe, clearly indicated that they were. When she noticed Letharen approaching her, she shook her head at him, not wanting to be disturbed in her thoughts right now. He nodded and started directing the tribe back to its daily tasks while Amareyha made her way back to the Sam'ey, the Holy Stones that served as a monument to Illonia. She signaled to the Sam'ey'aren who were following her to stay in the village; she needed to be alone right now, to meditate, pray and think. When she arrived there and saw the Sam'ey waiting for her, silent and majestic as always, the worried frown suddenly vanished from her face and she smiled, a deep contentment taking hold of her. Generations of Sh'ren before me have come here, upheld the rituals, guided the tribe, and none of them have ever seen real Spirits appear. And now, not one but two Spirits have appeared in our midst while I am Sh'ren. They've been offended, but I've soothed them again. Something must be right. Still smiling, she started walking among the Sam'ey, tracing her fingers along the worn patterns that were carved into them generations ago, that one thought echoing through her mind. Something must be right. Meanwhile, the Sh'ynte had separated himself from the tribe and started running along the mountain paths, deftly avoiding trees. When he felt that it didn't help to clear the turmoil in his mind, he climbed one of the trees and started making his way across its branches to the next tree, and the next one after that, and the next one again. Having to concentrate on keeping his balance helped, and he felt his mind calm down after a while; enough to sit down on one of the branches and fall asleep, the so-called Spirits all but forgotten for the moment. Not much later he was woken up by a soft sound; something walking along the trees, panting as if it had just exerted itself. When he looked down and saw the big, black wolf that had posessed the Spirit earlier that day he froze with panic. However, when he sensed its tiredness, its indifference, he couldn't help but feel some pity. The panic was quickly replaced by confusion and quietly, so as not to disturb it, he snuck away to think things through. Amareyha sat under the Sam'ey'lia, the Prime Sam'ey Stone. She listened to the voice of memory, the ancient knowledge of the Tribe that came from Mother to Daughter since Illonia, the Mother of Spirits, walked the down-world and consecrated the first Sh'ren. Every year, with the coming of Summer, the snows from the mountains turn to water and come to the valley. During this time, the Sam'ey are flooded and can only be reached by the Sh'ren. While the Sam'ey are flooded, the Sh'ren proves her dedication to Illonia by diving to them and anchoring a small statue to the Sam'ey'lia. If the statue is not there after the water has left, the Sh'ren is considered to be no longer in the grace of Illonia and must leave the tribe, so as not to attract the wrath of the Goddess. Should this happen, one of the Sam'ey'aren may go with her to share the burden of the curse, for Illonia is a compassionate deity. While the Sam'ey'aren accompanies the Sh'ren'ti she may not publicly reveal her name, title or tribe, although she remains a Sam'ey'aren of the tribe. Until the Sh'ren'ti has found grace in the eyes of Illonia again by returning to Her Home, the Sam'ey'aren may not return to the tribe. In the entire history of the tribe, this has happened only twice. Of these two times, only once has a Sam'ey'aren accompanied the Sh'ren'ti. When she returned, the Sam'ey'aren took her place again, but she has never spoken of what happened during the journey with the Sh'ren'ti. Amareyha thought again about that tale. It was part of the Mysteries of the consecrated, and had always had a powerful attraction on her. She was Sh'ren, but even she did not know what happened outside the tribe; she wanted to know, she wanted to see what else Illonia had created with her steps and her caresses, but she also knew that she could never leave the tribe while a Sh'ren. That longing that she kept secret in the deep recesses of her heart was her personal struggle. Every Summer she both dreaded and expected the statue to disappear, a sign of her wish to disobey. She looked at the line of the mountains, to the receding line of snow on their peaks. She calculated it would take maybe a tahed before the flood came, and the ritual of Kal'th. Would this be the time for her to leave? Was that why the Spirits were here, as a sign that Illonia would return and free them from the place-bondage? And then she thought of the Sh'ynte. Feared by most, pitied by some, but yet part of the tribe. A Blessed one unable to deal with the terrible truth that came during his Blessing, and driven to madness. Not outcast, but by duty welcomed in any home as part of the litter. Marked by the Goddess, yet free. Her brother. She tried to remember when they had played together, siblings and litter-siblings both. Anileh had always been quick, smart, active. Then the change had come, the night after she had joined the Sam'ey'aren. Anileh had been sick, down with a persistent fever, and when it broke his mind was broken with it. He wailed, snatching at visions, growling against unseen threats, whimpering with pain from invisible wounds. He had been Touched by the Goddess. Amareyha also held another secret, and she lowered her head in pray to Illonia. Mother of Spirits, please clear the mind of my brother... I know he rages against the Eltaran and attacked them, that what he senses is distrust and fear... do not punish him for doubting, be merciful. For she shared part of her brother's visions when they were at worst. And she knew he had been the one who had brought to life the image of the Mar'ey'theal. Wolf ... big bad black wolf ... Spirit ... is it a Spirit, or is it masquerading as a Spirit? What about the other one? That one isn't a wolf, that one doesn't look like the Mar'ey'theal, the other one still looks the same as when they got here. Maybe the Mar'ey'theal is strong enough to capture a Spirit and make it come along, maybe the Spirit is trapped and needs rescue, needs to be saved from the Mar'ey'theal. And what if the Spirit knows and is willingly cooperating? Are there bad Spirits? It can't be, can't be, the Mar'ey'theal isn't strong enough to corrupt a Spirit, the Spirits are always good, they are sent by Illonia and She is good, nothing can corrupt them, impossible to corrupt! While these thoughts were racing through his mind, Anileh was racing through the forest until he suddenly stopped as abruptly as his thoughts. Then, a single thought surfaced. The Spirit ... maybe I can help him. With a sense of purpose, Anileh started walking again, searching.

Once again Ezekiel woke up and wondered why he even bothered. Then he heard the screaming and hurriedly got up. He got dressed before going to the window and looking out, and immediately turned himself away from the window again, fighting back a gag reflex. Normally he'd send his servant out to go and figure out what was going on, but he felt it wouldn't really do this time, so he went out himself. He talked to a few of the villagers and, after some prying and prodding, managed to get one of them to tell him about the werewolf. "Just great. Out of all the towns I could have moved to, I pick the one that's the personal feeding grounds of one of those critters." OOC: Vote for Tanuchan / Millicent, because she was randomly highlighted. And who says that that "delicious new plate" doesn't contain some human meat, eh? ;-)

Ezekiel opened his eyes reluctantly as the sun poured in through a small crack between the expensive curtains. He turned around, but still felt the warmth of the sunray on his back, becoming more and more awake because of it, in spite of his desperate attempts to cling to the last remnants of sleep. "Why should I even bother?" The phrase was barely audible, just groaned to himself. Hearing it, however, suddenly made him snap upright as if something important suddenly crossed his mind. With a broad grin he jumped out of bed, saying to himself, "Of course, that's why!" He threw open the curtains, put on the clothes that his servant had laid out for him the night before and went to his study, where he smiled as he saw his breakfast already waiting for him, and still steaming. Knowing Alex, he'd put it there right before he came in. Making a mental note to himself to give the man a nice bonus at the end of the week, he sat down at his desk and started to write a letter while enjoying his breakfast.

Ezekiel Llewellyn, 28-year old disgraced nobleman. Nobody really knows what happened before he settled in the village, and he certainly won't tell, but he doesn't seem to be welcome at the court anymore, or really anywhere in the more civilized world. Whatever happened, he did manage to keep his right to wear a coat of arms, and enough of the family fortune to live in relative comfort for the rest of his days. He bought himself a nice house near the village centre, where quite often couriers can be seen delivering or taking away letters or parcels, a clear sign that he still has connections outside the village. Most of the time he keeps to himself because he just doesn't care enough about the other residents. Whenever he does mingle, he usually manages to remain polite and sometimes even friendly, although every now and then an arrogant streak in his character shows.

After being "gently" convinced by our dearest Tanuchan (death threats, threats of Mynx being unleashed upon me, etc ...) I've decided to sign up as well. Apparently having no time is no longer an excuse, but a reason to write Character to come ...

Yes, I felt it a week or two ago : that gut wrenching feeling that something is going to happen in the near future. And I'm giving in to it ... Indeed, the NaNoWriMo is upon us again - the National Novel Writing Month, when people with too much time (and also people with too little time) try and write a 50.000-word novel in one month. Every year there are a few brave souls here who participate, myself amongst them since last year Since I didn't see a topic coming by for this year yet, I figured I'd start one to remind those who want to participate but weren't aware it would be so soon. More info here