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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

WW XXXV - back to the village


Patrick

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An unusual calm weighed heavily on the small village of Hollowcreek. Not even the wind whispered amongst the mainly wooden houses and shacks. The few stray dogs and cats who had survived the winter were absent from the beaten earth streets. It was not spring enough yet for the birds to have returned from their winterly migration. Not a sound, not one movement disturbed the stillness.

 

Everyone had heard the unnatural howl cutting across the valley shortly after nightfall. Those who knew what it meant hoped that the menace would spare their village. Those who did not had still been chilled to the bone by the almost palpable menacing edge the howl had born.

 

A shaft of light from a slightly lifted curtain escaped one of the shacks, but was rapidly extinguished as a caring parent whisked a curious child away from the window. No words were said between them, just a reprimanding glance.

 

The howl, heard earlier in the dense forest several miles to the north, pierced the night yet again. Closer, much closer.

During the next mornings discussions, most agreed that the howl had come from the outlying farm of the Masons, just under a mile east from town. Fear gripped the village, heavily weighing on every movement. The Masons were nowhere to be found, yet their small shack had not been disturbed. The only sign of the passage of the creature were its pawprints embedded in a cabbage patch.

 

The Masons returned two days later. They had already been accounted for as dead, but luckily for them they had just been off to the town of Sioq, fifty miles away, to buy a badly needed plow and some grain.

 

The town breathed a collective sigh of relief. Two days had passed and no one had turned into a werewolf. No one had done it in public.

 

It might have been a romantic encounter at the Masons' farm, or a shady deal between two villagers in the middle of the night or simply someone coming home late. Evil needed only a small mistake so as to gain a foothold. One small mistake. Someone had made it. Several would pay.

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  • 2 weeks later...

OOC : Patrick, I'm almost ashamed to kill the mood you've so beautifully set with my character, but ...

 

"YARRRRRRRRRRRRR!!"

 

The yell pierced a discussion of a small group of villagers who jumped and looked around, even though they looked rather relieved that nobody had turned into a werewolf. Mario wheeled up and joined in.

 

"We've been lucky, haven't we mateys? Nobody turned into sharkfood, nobody turned into a werewolf, and perhaps the beast moved on to more nourishing towns. Anyone want a swig?"

 

Holding up his bottle to the group, Mario grinned when they all declined.

 

"Fine, more for me then ... my rum isn't gone quite yet!"

 

Mario took a swig, wheeled his chair around and went looking for more people to share with, but not before sharing a few last words of advice with the ones he was leaving behind :

 

"Don't you go turning into wolves now, or I'll turn you into door mats!"

 

It was then that they noticed he had his trusty sabre, the one with the skull-and-crossbones carved into the guard, with him.

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It hadn't been Aaron who found the paw prints at the Masons farm but he had made some attempt to track the beast back into the forest in order to dispose of it. The memory of that chilling howl was strong in his mind, as it was with many of the other villagers and a feral wolf could decimate the villages livestock.

 

The trail was difficult to follow at best, eventually vanishing even beyond Aaron's skilled tracking abilities and as the forester stared at the ground where the tracks vanished into a stream with no apparent sign of re-emerging on the other side. This had to be brought to the attention of the other hunters in the village. A wolf that showed signs of knowingly avoiding detection? Such a thing was unnatural.

 

A chill wind seemed to blow out of the woods sending shivers down Aaron's spine as he turned and headed for the village, taking great care to leave no trace of his own passing so that the unnatural beast couldn't follow him back home.

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Friederich recorded the howl that chilled his very soul at that night as he strolled down the street. He had just started to work on the fermenting masses to bake the bread the villagers so much enjoyed when that sound from hell hit him.

He was so lost in his thought that he almost ran over someone who was peaking at a local window trying to choose some candy.

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It was the fourth night after the wolf's howl had been heard at the Mason farm when tragedy struck. Juliet Stout was but seventeen years old, soon to be married to the miller's son. Her body, badly ripped apart, scattered over a large area behind the mill, was found by the miller. His son was also covered in blood, but apart from the shock of seeing his beloved ripped apart in front of his own eyes, he was not injured. It took more than three hours to calm him down enough to be able to talk, and even then the story came out in fragments.

 

"Big...huge. I saw...with my own eyes. Covered in...fur from head to toe...Blood-red eyes." On and on he went, describing the horrors to all of the townsfolk who had assembled in Fat John's tavern. It was a small establishment and under present conditions quite crowded. The scent of sweat, Juliet's blood on the miller's son's clothes and an almost tangible aura of terror permeated the air, making it difficult to breathe.

 

Guards, peasants and craftsmen all of men, armed with torches and weapons taken from the blacksmith's, William Nolan's, stockpile were positioned all across the village, but the beast did not return during the night.

 

When Juliet was buried in the morning the mood was somber indeed. No one could escape the fearful thought that her death had just been the beginning.

 

OOC: it is now day phase. Roles will be sent out shortly. You have at least 48 hours (I can't promise to be on time :P) for voting.

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William sighed heavily as he packed up his tools for the day. Business was picking up as everyone wanted more tools and weapons for their own protection, but it was hardly something to be glad about.

Especially as it means I'm finishing after dark these days, William thought heavily. Even without his own unease at having to walk home in the dark with that beast around, his mother fretted constantly.

And then there was his damned sister to look out for, who would stay out as late as she was brave enough to manage for (Willian suspected) the sole purpose of worrying him and making his mother panic.

Damn it, Father! William gritted his teeth as he felt a sting of threatening tears. I'm too damned young for this!

After a moment of struggling with his anger, William succeeded in swallowing it for now. Taking a lamp and a heavy hammer, he left his shop for the night and began to make his lonely way home, mind wandering over who could possibly be this cursed beast.

 

OOC: no vote just yet

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His admonition to the other villagers to not turn into werewolves had been meant to lighten the mood a little bit, but now that it was obvious that there was still at least one of those creatures around it didn't seem so funny anymore. Wheeling uncharacteristically silent through the streets, Mario wondered how they would defend themselves against it ... if it were possible at all to defend oneself against something so ... unnatural and hidden. At least the military ships that had hunted him all over the seas had ben either sinkable, or too slow to keep up.

 

Slowly, his thoughts returned to the present, to the recent tragedy, to Juliet. She'd been a nice enough girl, and so happy about going to be married soon, too. At least she wouldn't have to live with the fear and the suspicion ... but by Poseidon's beard, it was a huge waste of life! And he wasn't going to sit back idly and do nothing at all if there was a chance that more villagers would follow.

 

Mario leaned forward a bit to unhook a few clasps behind his back. When he drew his sabre and started rolling through the streets a lot faster, he was flying a wheelchair-sized pirate flag.

 

"YARRRRRRR!! We'll not surrender to this beast, will we!? When that thing comes back, we'll show it that we're not just some fat trader it can plunder at its whim! It'll walk the plank before the next sunrise if we all take up weapons, and show it what we're made of!"

 

OOC : randomly voting for Giles Jordan

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William stifled a yelp and only just managed to avoid Mario as he careened down the street with his sword in hand, yelling something about finding and catching the wolf.

Lunatic, William thought as he shook his head and continued home in the darkness, heart still pounding from the fright. Who was that old pirate accusing? Giles?

It didn't seem likely...but before he knew it the thought had been installed in William's mind, and he began to wonder at the possibility of such an accusation ringing true...

 

OOC: Vote for Giles Jordan

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Waking late as usuall, Friederich was gettin ready to leave to the bakery do get stuff ready for another night. As he left he noticed town was rather quiet, in fact, he recalled, he had not been woken by the milkman this morning. This was most indeed odd, odd or Louis was sick, so Friederich thought. Suddenly he recalled the howl and shivered.. could it be?

 

Friederich dashed off down the street...

 

ooc: Vote for Tanuchan - Olayna Nolan

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It was mid-afternoon and having finished work for the day Giles Jordan was walking home, his silver axe slung over his shoulder as usual. No one was surprised by it, not when there was a known werewolf among the inhabitants of the village.

 

But there were whispers. Soft and hidden at first, but then propagated by William Nolan and Captain Delas that the silver axe might just be an element of disguise. Who could ever suspect the man, who carried the most effective weapon against werewolves?

 

It would never be found out who struck the first blow against Giles in the town square, but after mere seconds the scene had turned into a lynching. Even those who did not suspect the unfortunate hunter took part in his beating to death, for fear of suffering the same fate themselves if they did not.

 

As the last blow struck, the handle of Giles's axe splintered and the head slid several feet away. Everyone's attention was caught by the flittering images of human faces, and one, dreaded, wolf-like face on the flat side of it. But without the will of the axe's master, the images simply rapidly flickered past and then the ligth that had seemed to illuminate the head disappeared and was gone.

 

OOC: Giles Jordan/Giles Jordan was your seer. Better luck next time! Wolf and baner, PM me your targets. ;)

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Olayna realised with dread that she should have not gone out against her brother's wishes that night. The man she had currently charmed was more than three decades older than her and had even bought her a pearl necklace as proof of his affection.

 

She had nothing to complain about concerning the man. He was kind, wealthy and had a certain roguish charm to him. No, if Olayna had been able to utter a complaint it would have been to the fates, for making her choose the wrong way home.

 

She was unable to speak though, almost utterly petrified by fear as the werewolf advanced upon her, its sharp claws glistening in the moonlight. The beast had managed to corner her and all was over. She tried screaming, but no sound came to her lips. Only when the first of the claws sunk into her stomach did she let out a bloodcurling shriek, which suddenly died away.

 

By the time the first of the villagers had gotten to the scene, Olayna was dead, her insides turned out, yet more evidence to the incredible viciousness of the beast.

 

William had been right. It was dangerous to go outside at night.

 

OOC: Tanuchan/Olayna Nolan was the baner. Seems that so far luck is on the wolf's side.

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Once again the tracks had been almost impossible to follow and the clutter of other footprint of the villagers had destroyed what remained of the trail... still it did seem strange that they weren't heading into the forest like last time, perhaps following them might lead to more evidence...

 

Following the non existent remnants of the trail left Aaron staring at the forest from the other side of the village and he sighed. Nothing. Still...

 

Looking around he saw Captain Mario Delas nearby. True the wolf tracks appeared to have good legs, but who could tell what the transformation would do to a man... and was the old captain looking a little... hairy... today?

 

:)

 

~~~

 

OOC: A vote for Venefyxatu - Captain Mario Delas.

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William held his mother close as she wept against him, struggling against his own tears that blurred his vision. He'd warned Olayna about going out at night, about going out alone. She never listened to him, but now William felt the knot of guilt in his stomach. He should have tried harder to protect her! He should have been able to do...something?

He didn't know. The grief was destroying his concentration. Glancing up at the crowd, William frowned slightly as he recognised the baker, Friederich.

Hadn't he been spouting rumours that Olayna was the wolf?

And now she was dead.

William's insides went cold as he wondered if there was more to the situation than mere coincidence...

 

OOC: Accusing Friederich/Mithrandin

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The sun was burning high in the sky however a small breeze from the sea made Fred's work easier to endure. He was in the edge of the forest, as he always did to pick some wood for his bakery oven.

 

There, this should be enough for the rest of the week.

 

Friederich was finishing to adjust the cargo when a sudden chill struck him, he gazed into the forest, all was quited, no birds were to be heard close by. In the shadows of the forest friederich saw nothing. Suddenly with a winds blow, trees began to rustle and the normal sounds of the forest returned slowly.

 

On his way home, Friederich got some time to think about the forest and what lies beneath the eye, and how easy it is to...

 

ooc: vote for Gryphon - Aaron "Longbow"

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That evening, under the cool shadows of the oak tree planted in the town square, everyone, even the sick and elderly had gathered, called together by the indecisive mayor. His old, frail voice was unable to control the villagers and soon chaos ensued, with everyone shouting what he wanted. Slowly, but surely, the chant of one name managed to form and strengthen. Aaron gulped as he realised that the bloodthirsty crowds were chanting his own name.

 

He tried running, but it was useless. They held him, beat him with sticks and stones and then cast his lifeless body aside. In a certain sense, the villagers were as dangerous and as deadly as the werewolf itself.

 

OOC: Gryphon - Aaron "Longbow" was an innocent villager. And with that, the wolf has won, since there is no more baner around to stop the night kill!

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