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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Werewolf XL


Mynx

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Millie was stunned. In shock, maybe, but she had always been the most resilient of her siblings since a tender age. Waking up to see Samuel torn to pieces had in her a different effect than the previous morning when she had seen Preston.

 

She had been completely unmade by Preston's death. He had been her boss but also a good friend, and she had enjoyed cooking for him as well. But Samuel was only an occasional friend, someone she did not use to talk at all; the previous afternoon had been the first ever that they had spent chatting. Maybe that was the difference, or maybe the third death had awakened in Millie her carefully controlled temper -- but whatever the reason, the net result was that now Millie was angry.

 

And as Aharios pointed at her, she just snapped back. "So it seems I'm being framed and the beast wants me to be an obvious link to the deaths? Well, I might have not been able to do anything for my friends, being just a simple cook... but that does NOT give you the right to point fingers at me! Learn to have concrete proof before accusing so lightly!"

 

And to herself she wondered, Accusing so lightly... so ready to follow what's starting to seem a framing... I wonder if he is not the one planning it. Who knows where he is from and what he was before settling here?

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

OOC: Vote for Ahadrion/Hjolnai

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OOC: blame Tanny for the initial idea and the music I was listening to for the duck of doubt... :P

 

See where the train takes you?! Such weird ideas! Xander didn't even know what a train was, but in his visions it kept spewing smoke and quickly coming at him, intent on killing him. It was a very weird moment. No...wait. Lately, it might...could just have been considered normal. For someone who had visions as lively as the best author's imaginations, a fifteen ton steel beast vomiting smoke wasn't that strange.

 

The painting he had painted was...weird to say the least, the imaginative maelstrom of a maniac would have been closer though. It resembled nothing and then again was similar to a peaceful scene of death and carnage an idyll of destruction...a joyful massacre...a deadly celebration. It was horrific and at the same time brilliant. It almost ended in the fire. Then again...some crazy collector miles and miles away might pay for everything Xander could ever wish for in order to acquire the immense privilege of hanging a majestic bloodbath in his entrance hall.

 

To burn the duck of doubt! All insecurities have to be dispelled and the best way to do so is to heartily throw them on a colossal bonfire of unwanted ideas. As if...he was doomed to live forever in an insecure world, assailed from every single side by his own subconscious. That is...if he survived to see the sun rise yet again. Some seemed to be constantly crying for his blood.

 

People always seemed to go after those who were strange at first. Drug addicts, outcasts, alcoholics. Just because someone was down meant that they had to be kicked again and again and again. That seemed like a good idea. Thrashing mindlessly in his bed Xander felt like kicking Enipul. Drunk versus druggie. Would be quite fun to be watched!

 

OOC: Vote for...surprise, surprise...Enipul Mai / Cryptomancer.

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Ahadrios looked at Millie in a strange way, almost accusingly. Or maybe it was really accusingly. Millie breathed deeply, and called to her mind the idyllic scene of clouds hovering in the sky, a river behind her, the scent of a grassy meadow... his brother telling stories, and her mother taking care of her herb garden that was just on the other side of the hill. She could still recall the scent of that herb garden, and it all made part of a scene that she always used to control her temper.

 

She sighed, shaking her head and turning her back to Ahadrios. It's not going to help anyone, acting like this... accusing just based on gossip, or to retaliate an accusation. Anyone here could be the beast, and act normally during the day...

 

Though what was normal, she couldn't say anymore. Would a beast try to be normal, or be weird and kept that behavior to hide his true nature? Would someone actually risk that much?

 

Her thoughts wandered toward Xander and Enipul, always accusing each other, both of them immersed in their own world, hiding in them. Alcohol, and dangerous herbs. Could one of them be the beast, and even so be accepted among them just because they had always been so strange, so apart, that nobody cared anymore?

 

Millie gazed at Xander, then at Enipul. She had always accepted Enipul so much easier than she did Xander. Enipul was almost coherent most of times, Xander was almost absolutely incoherent most of times. Would they be dangerous? And in this case, who would be more dangerous?

 

The one who has a brilliant mind behind all the weirdness... and it shows.

 

She stared at Enipul, frowning.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

OOC: changing vote to Enipul/Cryptomancer

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The debating continued around the town as the death toll continued to rise. There was still some division amongst the villagers as to who the most likely candidates were, but this time nearly all of them had reached a consensus.

After all, if the town drunk was a werewolf, it would not be surprising if he had killed Preston one night after being denied a drink.

 

The day was hot, and Enipul Mai's hangover was wretched. Grumbling to himself about the state of things, he shuffled through the town, looking for a cool place to sleep through the worst of the heat (and hopefully the worst of his hangover).

He eventually came across a barn on the edge of the town. The door hung open and the inside looked cool and inviting. Needing no further encouragement, Enipul wandered inside, making a small bed for himself amongst the hay where he promptly drifted off to sleep.

 

He didn't even stir when the villagers surrounded the barn, many of them holding lit torches. They debated dragging him to the stake as they had done with Chalice, but if he was the werewolf he would no doubt violently defend himself.

They were still in debate when a nameless member of the crowd threw a torch into the barn. After a brief pause, the rest of the villagers followed suit, before backing away from the rush of heat as the barn quickly caught fire.

 

They hovered uncertainly around the flaming building, more certain than they had been the last time, but still uncertain of their decision. And Enipul Mai's screams of pain when he finally awoke did nothing to allay their fears...

 

OOC: Cryptomancer/Enipul Mai was a Villager. Better luck next time. Night Phase. Specials, PM me.

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It was dusk. The barn fire had died down (although no one had the nerve yet to remove Enpul's carcass) and the sun was following suit, sitting low in the sky.

Jonathan was once again sitting on his porch and smoking his pipe, trying to forget the screams he had heard along with the rest of the villagers that day.

He was so lost in thought that at first he didn't notice the hunched shadows moving through his crops in the fading light.

By the time he noticed anything, one of the wolves had already lunged for his throat, silencing him before he was even truly aware of what was happening.

 

The wolves dragged him off his porch and into his field to finish him off, their growls filling the night.

 

OOC: Mithrandin/Jonathan Powers was a Villager. Day Phase

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That morning, the villagers found a note nailed to Ahadrion's triangular door. The note reads,

"Forgive me for decieving you all for years, as my command of the Common tongue is as broad as your own.

Now I leave, there is no point retaining the secret, much like another; I am a coward. With deaths every day, I'll not stay and meet a werewolf's teeth, or worse, be burned alive through suspicion.

Should anyone survive, forgive me for my cowardice.

Beware, for those who hunt are not often seen.

 

Adrian Kals"

 

Tracks are found leading along the road to the North.

 

 

OOC: I'm leaving tomorrow on a ten-day camp, so I won't be back before the game ends.

Consider me dead/gone for the rest of the game.

I'm uncertain as to whether I should post my role, so I'll leave that decision in Mynx's hands.

 

Sorry I couldn't stay for the rest of the game.

Edited by Hjolnai
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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 :P Come on people, I can't believe I'm being one of the most active players here ;)

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Millie was tired. So much to do, so much to think about, and people dying and running away and...

 

Chaos.

Burned away

burned inside

burning around

red death with wooden claws

a death god loose in the fields

screaming in glee

as chaos

reigns.

 

She stopped writing, noticing she had done it in her recipe book. She looked around, at her once well-organized, clean, working kitchen. Today it was drab - not in looks, for everything was in place and as they should be. But the people were drab, felt drab... looked drab even when they wore their normal clothes.

 

Millie wondered again what could be done.

She pondered about the people she knew.

 

And she found out that at least one of them, she did not know at all.

Could it be possible that the reason behind a nobleman's exile was... that?

 

~~~~~~

OOC: ok ok... very busy and crazy days, sorry for the lateness and the short post... voting for Venefyxatu/Ezekiel. Sorry ;)

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The villagers huddled around the note on Adrian's door, deep in discussion about what his note might mean. It was often said that the guilty flee, buy fear was an equally strong motivator...The line that drew the most discussion, however, was the comment at the end. What did he mean by not seeing those who hunt? Was it not obvious that the wolves had yet to be discovered?

 

The discussion was disrupted when Sarah, the Miller's cook, came running towards the group urgently.

"It's Sisie!" she cried out. "She's dead!"

Panic erupted amongst the villagers. The werewolves were attacking in daylight now?

 

"Murdered by her father," Sarah continued, swallowing her tears and panic. "She came home late last night and the Miller had been drinking and he...oh God the things he said! He was convinced she was a werewolf so he took a hot poker and..." Sarah shook her head, unable to finish her thought. "She was just a child! And she was with me for some of the attacks, she couldn't have been a...a..." Sarah dissolved into tears.

 

A couple of farmers ran off to apprehend the Miller, while the rest shuffled nervously and looked guiltily at one another. They couldn't deny that Sisie's name had been discussed as a possibility, but now that she was dead it seemed like a foolish idea to even think of accusing a child.

 

The setting sun drove the diminished villagers back into their homes along with their guilt. They seemed to be doing a better job of killing their own than the werewolves.

 

OOC: Harmony/Sisie was a villager and lost the lynch vote by roll of dice. Hjolnai/Adrian was your Seer. Night Phase. Specials, PM me

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As he sipped his alchol flavored tea, Giles shivered as he thought of the father in an alchol induced rage murdering his own Daughter. Once again he wondered what drugs could do to decent people and his thoughts came around to the know problems.

 

Patrick – Xander, a settled artist with a drug problem

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Millie added meat to the stew, and then went over to check the seasoning of the soup. Bread was almost ready, its smell drifting towards the tables where patrons sat, mostly whispering. She sighed, aware of the content of the whispers; there had been no other talk in the village, after all.

 

She couldn't stop wondering either... what was the meaning of having an exiled nobleman in the village?

 

~~~~~~

 

OOC: voting for Venefyxatu/Ezekiel Sorry for posting in a hurry... not much time tonight :P

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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

Edited by Venefyxatu
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Millie blinked, staring at Ezekiel completely surprised.

 

Surprised, but not in awe. He might be, or have been, a nobleman, but for Millie the world was actually divided in two kinds of people: decent ones, and not decent ones. Ezekiel could have been the king himself, but she would not treat him any differently because of his station. Because of character, yes, but not because of titles.

 

"Well, well... please, if you care to sit down?" She pointed to a small but neat table in a corner of the kitchen, and signaled Cathy to bring food and refreshment there.

 

"I don't have to know, actually. I have never really cared about you or your origins before the beast's attacks... however, once they started, I think it's quite natural that we start wondering about those who were not born here. You see, we started suspecting even those who we know since the day they were born... I do wonder why you are so secluded, if it's not pride. And anyway, why are you here? Why would they send you away from the court?"

 

Millie served him generously while talking; her statements and questions were neither timid nor aggressive -- her tone was plain conversational. Then she sat down with Ezekiel, without pressing for immediate answers but clearly waiting for some kind of reply.

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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."

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"I think that at the court you just lost the notion of what life is."

 

Millie served Ezekiel more stew, and looked him in the eyes. "You have no idea what life is. And if you had not been so secluded, maybe you would have learned with us that there is motivation and happiness without the need of power, wealth... land might give you a better insight, but just if you work on it. Not by just owning it and making other people work for you."

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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."

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Millie pondered on Ezekiel's words, and sighed.

 

"Well... I think that I can't really see your point. Maybe it would be different had I been born at the court, but as it is I think you are quite out of your mind, thinking like that. But, in spite of that... if that's what life is for you and if you are happy with it, I wish you luck."

 

She cut a big slice of cake and served it to him as dessert, and added with finality, "Just do not mess up with the lives of people here... and remember that any life is precious."

 

Without giving chance to Ezekiel to reply, Millie turned and went back to her pans and pots. It was clear that, in spite of his apparent frankness, she was not completely sure of his non-involvement in the attacks.

 

However, I really wish he is innocent... he could still learn so much and see life for what it is...

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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.

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He had always heard that alcohol never mixed well with medicine. He had never cared. It just made his ideas wilder and his paintings better...in a kind of messed up way. Of course he hadn't had a drop for years. But thinking back to that drunk reminded him of the wild days when he would paint for several days, tanked up on drugs and alcohol. And then he sold the paintings to curious noblemen who didn't understand a bit of what the paintings meant, but who thought it they could impress other curious noblemen by showing them in their lavishly decorated houses.

 

Ezekiel hadn't bought a single painting. At first it had surprised Xander, he had gotten used to noblemen jumping at the opportunity of haggling him out of his paintings. Those who had the most of the money had seemed to be those who were the most reluctant to let it out of their hands. But then, seeing how weird Ezekiel was in his other ways he was not surprised anymore and had just continued painting. He burnt most and kept only a select few. Meaningless to others, overburdened with meaning. Those which meant the most were those he could not bear to look at and those he had to burn.

 

The most recent painting was no exception. It had taken over twenty hours and by the end he had been almost clean from the drugs slowly destroying him. He had had a smoke since and still couldn't decide exactly what kept him from burning the picture. He kept the picture on the easel. Should anyone enter the room it would be the first thing they would see.

 

From a small pouch in a discarded corner of the room he took a needle. It had been a long time since he had injected himself...but now he needed it. He ground some of the herbs as he started the long process. Half an hour later he was out cold on his bed, dreaming the wildest dreams he had had in months.

 

OOC: vote for Venefyxatu/Ezekiel.

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Asmenfarmod, once a small but busy town, was now all but a ghost of its former self. The villagers – what was left of them – went about their business with fear and suspicion in their eyes, no longer stopping to talk to people who had once been close friends. With each kill and each failed lynching, more and more families packed up their things and left, slowly destroying the once happy and industrious town.

 

The ones that remained, however, still continued their pursuit to find the killers. To hunt the werewolves out from the rest. Debate continued over the likely suspects, before it inevitably returned to Xander. He spent most of his time in a drug addled state, who knew what he got up to when in the throes of the drugs’ effects?

 

The mob formed once again (albeit diminished), the doubtful converted to the cause, and Xander’s house was invaded. They came face to face with the latest of his paintings, freezing in shock as they took in what it displayed.

 

The painting was dominated by a dark figure towering over a human. The dark figure had fur, and with some imagination could easily be seen as a werewolf. Some of its features are distinctly human though. At first glance the human figure looks like Millie...or maybe Enipul...or Xander. The most recognisable features of several of the village's inhabitants seemed to have been mixed into one figure, looking at once like no one and like everyone. The wolf was about to swipe with a claw at the human figure.

 

The mob needed no further encouragement and broke into Xander’s room, dragging his unconscious body out and to the pyre to burn. Even as the flames began to lick first at his feet, and then crawl higher, Xander remained unconscious. A small blessing, perhaps.

 

Millie watched from the edges of the mob, shaking her head miserably at the turn of events. Could Xander truly be a werewolf? Despite the other villagers’ convictions, Millie still wasn’t convinced.

I should have tried harder to help, she thought, as Xander expired and the crowd began to disperse. Despite her grief at the situation, Millie couldn’t help but notice that Ezekiel and Giles had met up and moved to one side of the courtyard, where they appeared to be having a quiet but serious discussion. Both of them had intense looks on their faces, looks of a type of hunger that Millie had never seen on either of their faces before.

 

Millie felt herself go cold with dread as she watched the two men talking. Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their conversation wasn’t entirely innocent.

But how could she as one convince the rest of the townsfolk? Millie couldn’t help but feel that those who had already fled had the right idea. After all, it appeared that no matter what, the wolves would ultimately succeed...

 

OOC: Game over! Wolves win! See OOC thread for details

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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 ;)

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