Patrick

Whatever Paqs was about to say was interrupted mid-sentence as several pairs of hands grabbed hold of him and dragged him kicking and screaming to the railings on the starboard side. The Lieutenant and the first mate tried desperately to intervene, but a lot of sailors put themselves in their way. Before they even had a chance to do anything, the boy was unceremoniously dumped over the side. "Trim sails!" the first mate shouted as he frantically turned the ship's wheel, taking the Slug into a slanting turn. "Get slaves on the oars! Turn her around!" His shouts got the crew moving, some more reluctantly than others, and a select few under threat from the armed guards who had come up from below. It took them the best part of half an hour to maneuver the ship into position, lower the ship's skiff, and rescue the by then thoroughly miserable Paqs. No one noticed Tiney's body, her throat violently slit, and unceremoniously dumped in the former captain's now vacant cabin, for several hours. OOC: The dice decided the draw between Azuran and Sweet, and unfortunately for the latter, they chose her. It is now night phase, specials, PM me your targets.

Poor Captain York has sailed his last voyage on the high seas. The wolves have sprung into action. Day phase shall be open at least until the end of the weekend. Happy lynching!

Night fell. The captain was serious about running a tight ship and only experienced crew members served during the night, no fourteen year old was perched in the crow's nest in the starless sky above during the small hours. Captain York had retired to his quarters shortly after nightfall with a carefully selected jug of Caribbean Rum and the slave girl who had caught his fancy for that night. Barely had his business with the girl been finished though that a knock came at the door. The crew knew not to bother him except for major trouble, so despite wishing to fall asleep with a well-shaped breast each side of his head, the captain stifled a grumble, pulled on his breeches and opened the door. Equiano was no longer a slave, he had become too useful for that, but the captain still had not fully come to terms with having a black man on his ship who was not actually a slave. "Get out of here", the captain roared, slamming the door shut. He glanced at the half-finished jug, hesitated for a second, then took a long swig. "Don't get dressed yet", he said to the girl, who had started pulling on her clothes. She did not speak English, but she understood the waving of the captain's hands anyway. He wanted more. A knock on the door interrupted what the captain was about to start. He tore the door open, seriously considering throwing the former slave Equiano overboard. The creature standing there looked nothing like the Asante. That creature had no place on a ship, or even on land. Captain York's screams woke everyone on the ship. By the time Lieutenant Swanson arrived, the entirety of the captain's cabin had been splattered in blood and gore, and the only thing that moved was the fully naked slave girl, shuddering violently, the decapitated head of the captain lying slanted in her lap. OOC: Thanks to Peredhil for the inspiration of how the ship came to be cursed. This does not mean that Peredhil is or is not a wolf. It is now day phase, and cries for blood are heard on the ship (although the interior decorator has already quite well taken care of the interior of the captain's cabin in that regard...). Happy lynching.

Game thread is now up: http://patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?/topic/17313-werewolf-ii-game-thread/

It had barely been a week since the Fat Slug had left behind the port of Aného on the Slave Coast. The heat was sweltering, humidity atrociously high and the rain daily. For Captain York it was business as usual. It was spring in the Carolinas, the Slug's destination but would be getting on to late summer by the time she arrived. The perfect time for unloading a precious cargo of slaves, just before the autum harvest. The Slug was heavily laden with humanity, carrying well over five hundred souls, most of them slaves, shackled below decks. Not that John York counted them as souls. For him the barely fifty or sixty white men were all the humanity on board. The rest were but cargo. Perched on the stern, next to the first mate, who was anchored to the rudder as though his life depended on it in these calm seas, the captain could not help but smile. There were no signs whatsoever that this was anything other than a routine trip. OOC: non-lynching day phase. You have at least a few days to have your fun, before the wolves start having theirs.

Roles have been PM'd out, if you didn't get anything, you're a villager. Roles are not revealed upon death.

So it looks like we have: Venefyxatu - Adam Peters (cook, round, very round) Peredhil - Equiano (sailor, former black slave) Mynx - Carey (sailor) The Death of Rats - xxx (lieutenant) Sweetcherrie - Tiney (sailor, woman in disguise) Gyrfalcon - Michael Walters (former sailor, indentured servant) Azuran - Paqs (young boy) Tanuchan - Davey Jones (young man/boy, sailor in training) With these eight players we shall have four specials: 1 wolf (nothing new here...) 1 devil (loosely inspired by http://www.brenbarn.net/werewolf/rules.html) - the devil is a wolf, counts as a wolf for victory,but is also a seer, so can look at someone's role each night phase in addition to killing someone with his or her partner) 1 seer (as usual) 1 baner (can't protect himself, but can protect anyone else)

Phone chat...takes less effort than hammering away at a phone screen... card game or board game?

I plan on leaving sign ups open until Friday/Saturday, giving me a chance to start the game during the upcoming weekend.

Always white chocolate... Mountain or seaside vacation?

Sure do!

Tanny, I don't plan on using anything more specific than this: http://www.history.navy.mil/branches/teach/ships/ships11.htm

Werewolf II is now open! Who dares sail the high seas? http://patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?/topic/17312-ww-ii-ooc-thread/

Sign-ups are now open! Come one, come all, don't forget to board the ship before she sets sail!

Be sure to tune in shortly for incoming news about a new infestation of the beast known as the werewolf, in a different place and time, far away from the once peaceful village that was once torn apart by a shop owner and his band of malevolent spirits... ...brought to you soon by yours truly.

Looks like I got back from my vacation just in time to see things end. Sorry I wasn't around the past few days.

I am heading off tomorrow morning for ten day's of vacation. Have fun tearing the village apart while I'm gone.

Of course it would be quite interesting to see dear old Augustine's reaction to all this. *wink*

Tanny, I hope you don't mind me creating a new thread like this with a different picture.

Let me know if my post is too dark/violent for the Conservatory. I can always Scarlett Pen it, and just a put a link in its place.

OOC: I probably should put a disclaimer here, that this post does contain some disturbing content... It was a strange feeling, floating around on a wind that he couldn't even feel. With an inner smile John told himself that this was nothing like the afterlife Augustine had been preaching about. The priest had been wrong! Sue was still crying over his rapidly cooling and quite brutally dismembered body. As John looked down at his remains, he couldn't even be sure that it was really him, that werewolf had certainly quite badly mutilated him. Strange thinking so dispassionately of what had for so many years carried him around in this world. But this, this was so much more...fun? He did a double somersault in the air, and executed a perfect landing, laughing with an almost childish glee. He could do so many things he couldn't while alive! His joy was suddenly cut short by the appearance of Augustine, coming to comfort Sue and say whatever he had to say over the body. John stuck his tongue out at the priest, his rites were useless even if he did not know it! A loud slap drew his attention away from the body and to Sue, who seemed to be going all out on the priest. Slaps, clawing fingers and even kicks flying at the old man. "Finally got the courage to go after John, did you!" *slap* "You never made secret what you" *slap* "thought of us!" *kick* "Are you happy" *slap* *slap* "NOW?" *slap* *slap* *slap* The priest didn't retaliate, trying only to defend himself from the blows. Panting, Sue stepped back, turned and ran into their home. She came out seconds later, a long kitchen knife in her hands, the bare steel glinting in the morning sun. "You made our lives hell in our own town you vile man!" The knife shook in her hands as she raised it. "Who's to say you're not the one killing people in the dark of the night?" Her voice started trembling as she took another uncertain step towards the priest. "Well I have had enough of you!" She made a last, final step towards the priest, turned the knife sideways and in a single, swift movement laid bare her own throat. John smiled as her spirit lifted from her body. They were together again. On the porch, their mother rocked back and forth in her rocking chair, oblivious to the world around her. Back and forth...

The song of slavery haunts these halls The cries for freedom echo from the pillars The song of suffering...oh how it calls The cries provoked by oh so many killers The song of freedom rings throughout these fields The cries of victory echo among the corn The song of joy...oh to them a soul yields The freedom won by oh so many we mourn Next line: An intent to slaughter

John kept working, his shovel strokes regular and did not talk. He stayed silent for so long that even the priest's patience wore out and he left. When he was sure that the man was out of earshot, John sighed and shook his head. "Something you wouldn't agree with old man..." The village was tearing itself apart, it was not enough for him to dig a grave for the werewolf's latest victim, he had to dig one for the man who had been killed by the villagers themselves. To think that the village where his family had lived for generations had come to this. It was becoming clear to him that staying out of things would inevitably achieve nothing. He had to act. He gave no notice to his mother sleeping in her rocking chair as he stepped into his home. He took his dusty shirt off, cupped a handful of cool water from the washbasin and washed the grime off his face. As always, his wife had placed a fresh shirt for him next to the fireplace. He pulled it on, and headed out. Tennison had been throwing a lot of accusations around lately, some of them even directed at John himself. She had to be stopped. OOC: Voting for Tanny/Tennison (or is that Tannyson ? )

Another day, two more graves. John had said nothing to the mob in the tavern last night, drinking his mug of ale with a look on his face that mad everyone avoid him. But that had been last night... Now it was a few more hours of digging.Two graves this time, one for Curtis and another for the sheepherder. His dogs kept watch from the nearby hillock. John hoped they wouldn't interfere, he'd put them down if he had to, but they were good dogs. From the corner of his eye he could see the priest hovering around in the copse of trees in the distance, biding his time in order to murmur his useless words. The dead were dead and that was that, nothing that priest said could help it. A last shovelful, and the first grave was ready. John gently lowered Curtis' body in the whole, thinking all the while how even a dead body could smell so much of drink. He wiped sweat and smeared dirt across his bow with the same movement. He lifted his gaze to the priest and beckoned him over as he started throwing shovelfuls of dirt over the drunkard's remains. He did not look up when he heard the shuffling steps of the priest behind him. "So...", he started before taking a long pause. "Heard you actually did not want the drunkard dead despite all his sins." He shot a sly look at the old man. He made an effort not to show that he was poking a slight bit of fun at the priest. Despite his usual demeanor, the only problem he had with the priest was the man poking his nose into everyone else's business, especially his own. "Now tell me old man...", he said as he threw the last shovel of dirt on Curtis' grave, patting it down with the flat back of the shovel, "how are we going to keep this village from tearing itself apart?" Before the priest could register his surprise, John walked a few paces to the right, and stuck his shovel in the earth, marking out a corner of Abercrombe's grave.

I'm so sorry Peredhil, I missed that.