Roleplay: Game 1

"My favourite part is how they maintain the pretence of their humanity until they die. I love it how they do that, but still eat people. Are my eye balls still in my head or floating in front of it?"
Unfortunately Shaun, the reformed village drunk, had found some psychedelic mushrooms shortly before the lynch.
"GODS! THEY'RE COMING TO GET ME AREN'T THEY? BAD TRIP, BAD TRIP!" (he hazzes shrooms on him head)

I'd like to eat some wolf - i'll take mine spiced

belle had been spending a lot of time with Delia, trying to help her with her morning sickness and her grief for the cruel death of her innocent lover, Johnald - though all she could really do was hold her hair back and try to reassure her that she would not be next and the village wouldn't dare harm her now that she was with child, as she could not empathise. Johnald had always been cruel to her.

she could only hope that the other villagers would realise that Boris was far more suspicious, for like Delia he had voted alongside a known wolf but unlike Delia was not likely to have been easily fooled into trusting them.

"Spiced wolf it is! I shall use my 237 secret herbs and spices!"

um... i'm not sure eating a lycanthropic wolf wouldn't count as cannibalism...
have we truely fallen so low?

The villagers awake to discover a slip and slide has been installed in the village. That is, there is a bloody strip of cobblestones that some furry creatures have been enjoying in a childish manner. The footprints lead into the nearby woods but they stop leaving footprints before they return to the village. Adding to this macabre scene is the discovery that the blood belongs to the youngest member of the village. That of young Belle. Nereida's beloved student.

"Another sad sight... Let us be silent for a minute in Belle's honour."

A minute alter Gertrude continues "Oh how long must this go on?! The monsters! Maybe we should take young Belle's advice. I shall be placing my trust in Belle and voting for Boris today. Young Delia, through the wisdom of Belle, I trust you once again. Please, have a cookeh" Gertrude says, a loving look in her eye, holding out a Triple Berry Cookeh.

Delia looked at Gertrude with a sullen set to her mouth, her eyes flaming with disapproval and resentment.

"Screw you, Gramma," she said, poking out her tongue. "And your cookies make my fetus rebel. You didn't trust my word, why should I trust you?" She looked around at the others, her eyes blazing. "All of you! None of you believe me. I don't care what anyone told you; if you were determined to kill me you probably still should. I admit that Veronica gained my trust through friendship and illegal booze, but Boris is genuinely a dear friend of mine. Belle, may she rest in pieces, didn't actually manage to see Boris before her tragic demise. I will stick by my friend. If you don't, well...sod you... Bleugh."

And with that she stuck out her tongue, whirled on her heel, and went off to either sew or vomit, depending on how the cookie went down (she still ate it; she's not gonna turn down free food is she!?!)

"In that case, DIE BITCH!" Gertrude yells, pulling a gesture you can see there <---.

The sound of Delia being violently ill from inside her hut drifts across the village. The cookie she had eaten had evidently disagreed with her half-sorcerer babae, who seemed to scream "Vodka! Lots and lots of vodka!!" What a shame he was underage.

Gertrude chuckles to herself "Teehehehe suffer, my child, suffer like the whore you are...." she says softly.

Eachann stumbled into the grove, followed by Ophira, both quite drunk on mead, singing a boisterous song about killing werewolves. It took them a few moments to pick her out from the surrounding terrain, but they found Nereida curled up sobbing.
"You always were too fond of life" Eachaan gave his friend what he though was a comforting hug, swaying to keep his balance while leaning down to her level. "Veronica was a wolf! You should be celebrating, not moping here."
Nereida looked up at he friends, and considered allowing them to have their fun a little longer, but she could not keep this pain to herself. "Belle is dead. My lifeline to the villagers."
Eachann and Ophira immediately stopped their giggling and assumed the closest thing the could manage to sombre faces.
"I chose a child, I thought even the wolves could not be heartless enough to tear apart a little girl. But they reveled in her murder, they desecrated her flesh for their own amusement.-"
"Nevermore!"
"And the villagers have lost what could have been their greatest ally. I fear for them."
"As do I" Jet emerged from the shadows without warning, as was his custom "Ophira, brew yourself and your giddy companion a remedy, we have work to do. We shall brave the timelines together and she if there's not a way to stop this terror unfolding."

Shaun, disguised as a giant flower , is privy to this not-so-secret forest discussion, unbeknownst to its participants.
"Pretty sure I am their greatest ally anyway, because I am a master of disguise. Also I eated all of Granny's hashcookehs, so they can keep a sharp mind in their present peril.

Gertrude is walking through forest when she sees an extremely ugly flower.

"Oh struth! This just must be removed from the flower gene pool! Absolutely horrible!"

Gertrude picks up the flower that is Shaun and throws it in the portable furnace she happened to be carrying.

She then to frolics with Eachann and Ophira for a while before she heads back to the kitchen to slave away at her flower bread.

"How did Granny carry such a bloody huge furnace? Lucky for me she didn't turn it on. I've got the munchies."

"Golly, I hope something happens soon, I'm almost bored to death, waiting to be roasted to death"

The villagers meet to discuss their vote. Xyceres had been myseteriously absent, this was fortunate, as all but one of the villagers chose to have him killed. However when the lynch mob left to find him they almost tripped over his exsanguineated body, a knife would through his wolfish head.

Meanwhile, somewhere deep within the time stream Jet licked the blood from his knife, having returned his companions to the physical realm.

Gertrude jumps when she hears the flower start talking, and realising it is actually the drunk-turned-junkie, she is tempted to leave him in the furnace and light it but thinks better of it and lets him out.

"Hurrah, another wolf down! Six versus one... good odds! I'd place a bet if this were a horse race!"

Gertrude then puts on a Jester's hat and dances throughout the village with minimal clothing.

Shaun, the town's resident alcohol-addled hobo, lies propped up against his leanto shack. His ribcage has been ripped open and his abdominal cavity lies open to the morning air. He is covered in his own blood but the body is otherwise undamaged - there was no struggle. It seems he was dragged from the hut and set in this position as a spectacle for the lucky, unmolested townspeople to discover. The remains of his internal organs have been strewn around the body, except for his shrivelled, pickled liver, which it seems even werewolves weren't game to touch. Unusually they wolves haven't eaten much of his remains, a nibble here or there, but it seems they must have found him unappetising.

Eachann opened the ballot box to find it all but empty, and he gave a disappointed stare to the villagers. It had been hard enough to keep hope for the villagers when they had hope for themselves. Now it seemed they didn't care. Jet dashed into the hallway and opened the throats of Alex and Beth, then dragged their corpses from the room for his own purposes. Muttering something about the timelines as he did.

Delia woke with a yawn and a stretch. She had slept surprisingly well considering the threat of impending doom that threatened the remaining villagers with one wolf still on the prowl. Even her baby had been still during the night instead of performing its usual 3AM acrobatic act. She dressed, donning the red band once more in memory of her baby's daddy, and then went outside, looking around curiously to see who had been eaten by the wolves.

Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw that the once thriving village (a population of 13; it was almost unheard of!) had been whittled down to a much more reasonable number. She counted four people: Boris, her friend who she was determined to stay with, Gertrude, the insane old woman who probably hadn't been eaten yet because she would have tasted of grizzle, Peter, the supposed deaf mute who had written all of his votes seemingly at random, and herself.

And yet they were all alive. The wolf must have been sick from eating Shaun.

"Well, this sucks," she said, sighing and putting her hands on her hips. "Not that the wolves didn't eat anyone, I mean. I mean because now we have to choose who to kill next." She hesitated, then offered a nervous smile. "Any ideas?"