"How many people have I killed?"
The werewolf sat in the common room of the public house in a village. In human form at the moment, it sat in a chair at a rough-hewn table, staring into the flames in one of the large stone fireplaces. It slowly and deliberately took a drink of now lukewarm tea from a large mug. It raised its eyes to peer over the rim of the mug as it considered the scene in the room.
The village was of the common sort: Small, provincial, and mostly inbred, but nonetheless the villagers were hard-working and generally kind and accepting of each other, despite occasional disagreements. The village worked together well. Tonight they were gathered in the pub for a storytelling. The story was called "Ye Snatch" and had something to do with some petty criminals seeking a gem of some value. There was also a bawdy sub-plot featuring a stable boy who allegedly possessed the manly equipment of a medium-sized horse and a princess who must have possessed unusual flexibility. This sub-plot was not in fact part of the story, but the storyteller felt he had to incorporate a certain additional element to keep attention up among the villagers.
The werewolf smiled as the listeners erupted with laughter at a joke about the stable boy, the princess, and a bell-ringer who saw too much. The werewolf was actually fond of the village and its people. It smiled in genuine affection.
But it was with no regret that it decided that tonight there would be death.
The werewolf returned to its contemplation of the fire and its own thoughts. "How many people have I killed? Forty? Fifty? Has the number climbed to sixty yet?" The creature exhaled slowly and suppressed a quivering that suddenly touched its muscles. "I can still smell them, feel them. I can still taste their blood." A glassy look of satisfaction crept over the face of the werewolf. Soon it blossomed into a look of almost ultimate pleasure. The werewolf was careful to keep its face to the fire, away from the villagers. It smiled again, but this time it was not out of affection or amusement.
It was glee.
Sheer excitement over the thought of murder.
There were others in the village who were like it, except in stature. This was the Alpha Wolf. It commanded. Now it would command terror and blood. The Alpha Wolf did not kill out of need. It killed because it liked to. It slaughtered out of want. Tonight the slaughter would begin.
The story ended and the creature rose to applaud and cheer with the rest of the village. It spoke with genuine kindness and comradeship to the villagers as they mingled. Soon the gathering began to break up as the villagers returned to their homes for the night. The werewolf bade them a good night as it moved to leave. It did not pause or look back as it left the house and closed the door.
Welcome! This is a quick game with old-style rules. We want to have fun while we're waiting for the mashed potatoes and gravy!
We'll start Monday if people read this and sign up over the weekend. I don't really care how many or how few sign up.
We will use the basic rules for the game with the following stuff:
1) Deadlines will be quick-ish. Majority votes to lynch.
2) Number of RPs will be dependent upon the number of participants. These numbers WILL be given in the first write-up.
3) Inactive players will be mod-killed unmercifully and capriciously.
4) Night-talking is allowed but is, of course, discouraged.
So that's it. Sign up here if you wanna have at it. Thanks!
In so far:
1. Bob's Cow's Serendipity
6. Troy Loney
Last edited by redwill
on Mon Nov 22, 2010 11:06 am, edited 8 times in total.