Roleplay: Game 1

The village is awoken to the sound of wild hoof beats, disturbing the usual peace of the village. The villagers emerge from their homes, expecting to find an escaped horse, and are shocked by the discovery of a centaur.



The centaur tosses a wolf head into crowd, who step away from the bloody thing, an arrow sticks from the eye.

"I have slain Lycaon, but all is not well, I believe he spent his last night in this sleepy town, and spread his curse among you. This is not the first time the wolfcurse has visited your village, though it has been centuries since the last Affliction."

The centaur makes his way to the town hall, villagers in tow, and takes out a musty tome, the constitution of Calla.

"Listen ye here people of Calla" He takes a deep breath and reads from the tome.

302.2.1 In the case the wolfcurse is again released upon Calla,
a meeting of the village shall be convened each sundown
a vote shall be called for, and the villager with the most votes shall be condemned to be hanged immediately.
Should the hanged villager assume a feral form upon death they were indeed Afflicted
In the case no transformation occurs the Innocent will receive a respectful burial.

"I shall see you all at sundown."

A young man makes his way past the villagers, who have stepped back from where the strange creature just stood. He approaches the constitution, reads it over, ensures that all is as the Centaur proclaimed.
"So it's true, then," he said, casting his glance around his once friends, allies, comrades. "I had suspected something was amiss. There were sounds coming from THEIR house last night, strange sounds. I did not, of course, want to raise suspicion unwarranted, but now it is clear. Belle must be the one we hang, for the sake of Calla."

"And if the taint is spread, I hope that one of us can do something. We must each of us do what we can."

Although me mind be clouded by mead and crazy, I accuse Johnald the Red, for it be widely known that he be of the order of Gee-long, and they be in with a chance for to win the premiership this year, which dunnit tickle me fancy, whatever Kayrud has promised he shouldna whatchamacallit for the good of the nation! My hands have laser beams inside! Wau wau! Oh cragnab! The werewolf's head hath caught fire! Tis a sign from the gods!

And I caughted me a chicken. Precooked, of course, so as not to have to open me oven, where there be dragons. When I peeled it open it had a banana inside, and I be tired. Not sleeping so well, what with the hobgoblins turning everyone into strippers with their contact poisons. I canna touch me bedsheets for more'n five seconds or twill 'appen, sure enough!



*runs out of breath and curls up to snooze on the ground*

One young woman lowers her head for a moment, looking at the ground just in front of her feet. She hesitates, then lifts her eyes, tilting her head back slightly to meet those of the young man. She has, of course, completely ignored Shaun, widely known as the fool of the village.
"I think that could be a bit rash," she says, slowly and carefully. "Just because you heard noises there last night doesn't necessarily mean that Belle is a werewolf." She sees the suspicious frown crease Johnald's forehead and hastens to add, "Though it does make it more likely. I'm just saying, perhaps she was being staked out by the beasts? You know, they could have been searching out their prey beforehand? We have to think about this carefully; if we kill an innocent we stand even less of a chance."

The drunken loon sprawled over the centre of the road sits up abruptly, his eyes open, yet glazed over, unseeing. He screams loudly, the sound almost inhuman (yet decidedly unwerewolflike also, something like a cross between a hippo and a cockatoo).
"SATU THE IRRITATING! THE JAPANESEAN HELPER ROBOTS HAVE SPAKED! IT IS YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUU WHO IS A WEREWOLF! ALSO JOHNALDTHAN THE RED STOLE THE COOKIE FROM THE COOKIE JAR!"
He continues in a decidedly different accent than before, as is often his wont.
"Ven vee see zat she haz zee disease, zen vee vill see zat zee cookie stealer iz alzo afflicted for zee 'az defended 'im! ZEE ESCARGOT ZEE ARE ATTACKING!"

The insane, homocidal maniac then collapses into convulsions, frothing from the mouth and all. Nobody helps him because he is unloved, except by his pet slater bugs, who don't really count.

I stand back from the others, eyes rolling. "Shaun is obviously a fool," I say, "and a liar besides. Methinks he knows too much of fantastical orders and not near enough of the way the world works; either that, or his folly--might it not give way to a more malicious intent?"

"As for you, Maiden Delia Deux, I find myself rightly calmed. I maintain my suspicion, having no further evidence, but mayhaps you know something more?"

"Merci, dear friend." I smile and curtsey, dipping my head slightly. "If pressed I can only offer Shaun as a suggest. He sounds like a hippo crossed with a cockatoo, this is undeniably a fact, but we must also consider that werewolves are usually masters of deception." I point a finger to the babbling, convulsing heap that is Shaun. "Who would ever suspect that of anything more than idiotic accusations?" I pause, then add, "But we cannot say anything for sure until all have had their say. I can only hope that...my own innocence is believed..." I offer another smile, this one accompanied with a small touch of desperation, almost pleading, in my eyes.

The young man lets his eyes linger on the eyes of Ms. Deux. "Well, this in truth sounds an appealing suggestion. Either way, we cannot lose, for what benefit does this heap bring to our fair village? Kill myself, or you, and we lose hardworking citizens, as I am quite certain that neither of us suffer the taint" - A small smile in her direction, before he goes on to address the entire gathering. "Even this Belle brings something to us; she has friends here, among a select, strange few..."

"SIE ARE VIEL DIE TEETH BARING! SCHAU MAL!"
He uncoordinately waves his hand around in the air, his finger pointed. This time he doesn't even bother to awaken from his post-fit coma.

"Now this has gone on quite long enough" shouted a voice from the crowd as Veronica Vance, renowned psychic and cock blocker, stepped forth. "Although this evil has shrouded my third eye, anyone can see the alliance forming between these two... I'm not saying they are to be accused but let's face it- no-one thinks that is innocent or healthy so keep it in your pants!" She glared around the circle. In an almighty swoosh she whipped a small amethyst from her belt and held it aloof. "I will meditate with this a while and see if my chakras can be cleared" she declared, "In the mean time I suggest you all watch out. Young maidens are easily deceived and the last thing we need is a werewolf using raging hormones to their advantage." All eyes remained on her until she was completely still, totally focused on the task at hand in the far corner.

"My dear Veronique" says John, with a little too much of that inflection in his voice which raised Ms. Vance's ire, "I am in no way seeking to deceive anybody, and am indeed appaled by your outrageous accusation. You are as aware as I am of the danger this threat brings to our people." He steps closer to her, knowing that she can hear him regardless of her pretension to the contrary. "Let not our history colour your perception of me. Now if you truly maintain the power I know you once had, which you claim at now, I beg of thee, examine me if you doubt my humanity, and the support I have of our united cause."
He becomes awere of the crowd's gaze upon him, and while typically appreciative of such attention, is averse to the eyes of the others, silent in judgement, passing from him, to Deux, to Veronica, finally falling on the unmoving village idiot.
"Ahem," he says, and steps away.

Delia flushes under the stares of the others, realising she may have accidently put herself in the line of fire. She too goes to Veronica's side and says, "You can examine me too, if you are indeed the Seer ( ). I am not afraid of being seen, for I have nothing to be afraid of." Her flush deepens from pink to red and she adds, "Even if my mouth words and agitation speak otherwise... I open the floor to anyone else -" Her eyes sweep over the crowd, narrowed slightly though her blush hasn't faded "- who wishes to convince us they have nothing to fear."

"Truly your speech must impress the weak willed, werewolves, but twill not work here, in this village, not today, nor on the morrow should you manage to dodge the noose." The sorry hobo's voice was hoarse, almost inaudible, after his abuse of it. He vomits foul, alcohol tainted bile and manages to get to his feet. "That's better, I don't feel like I need to vomit anymore. Excepting your presence, most verbose of werewolves."

"I am the only weak willed man among us, as may or may not be evident, and even I see through your charade, as the people must also. Kill me if you will, for although I be no werewolf, twould nevertheless raise property prices in the area. But heed my words, were I to eat any of you, twould be in this here form, not the form of a wolf, and I would cook you nicely first."

After this surprisingly lucid speech, the man retreats from the group, wandering the streets mumbling, apparently to himself.

Eachann (EE kun) observed the Callans for a while, but things were out of his hands now, so he trotted off into a nearby grove and left the villagers to their squabbling. This was not the first time the Wolf Curse had visited he town of Calla, it was not the first time he had been mixed up in it, it was not the first time he'd felt unusually powerless, and it would not be the last time for any of these things. In past times attempts to help the town beyond simple guidance had ended disastrously.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a familiar voice

"Patience, Eachann, patience." Eachann turned to give a wearied glance at Ophira "You always were too impulsive"
"But it's been centuries since the last incident-"
"Nevermore!" Edgar interrupted from his perch on Ophira's shoulder, the raven's dark feathers in contrast with the sorceress es golden appearance.
"And I have spent the centuries hunting the Wolves, I had hoped that with the death of Lycaon the Wolf Curse would cease to be a problem."
A man stepped from the shadows, clad in a dark anachronistic suit "You know as well as we that Calla will never be free of the Wolf Curse, Fate never would have allowed you to slay Lycaon before he made it here. Your work has helped save many other villages from the curse, but Calla is damned, we can do nothing but fulfill our duty."
"Duty be damned Jet, I hate watching people die!"
"As do we all" Nereida, a forest witch, joined the discussion. "But we have done all we can, and we must be happy with that. You have alerted the villagers, Orphira has instructed one of the villagers in the mystic arts, Jet has played with the strings of time as much as he dares, and I wander the dreams of the villagers at night, offering guidance to whomever can hear my call. Now all there is to do is wait, if the villagers survive we will rejoice with them, if they do not then we will bear witness, we will control the damage to the world at large, and we will wait to help the poor souls who are called to re-populate the village."
Eachann gave a deafteated sigh "You are right of course. All of you. I should head back and bear witness"
"May your feet find the light, in these darkest of hours" The Watchers chorused in unison

Edgar gave another sudden screech "Nevermore!"

"Ahem!"
The crowd turns towards the sound of the village herbalist ( Yay! Complementary Medicine :p ) Belladonna clearing her throat.
"If I might be so bold," the healer begins, "Though it may not be my place to say, methinks the eyes of our 'Seer' have been clouded by the Affliction."
Eyes begin to turn towards Veronica as the healer continues.
"Though I am not old enough to have encountered this Affliction before, the healers before me have passed down knowledge of the habits and rituals of the Wolf. One of us will die on each night the the wolfsbane blooms." Reaching into the folds of her cloak, Belladonna extracted a sprig of purple flowers. "It has begun."

A fearsome looking woman, dressed in the finest, most luxurious of polyesters, marches to the centre of the village square, dragging her important, yet downtrodden looking husband behind her.

"As illustrious members of our community, my husband, the local pig merchant, and of course, myself, Mrs Dunsnoopin, are grievously concerned about these recent events. If we allow this affliction to spread, prices on squalid plots of real estate will fall. Our decentralised system of health care may not be able to cope and, worst of all, we may lose the title of host city for next year's bimonthly First half of August pig judging judging in the local council district championships. If we lose our recent good fortune in the cliche tourist trade niche, you could all be back working at Mr Fortuna's Anything Goes Whorehouse. You all know dear Freddy and I, as pillars of the community, and we have weathered through periods like this before. You all know how I... we had Mrs Dogood hanged as a witch, for she had lettuce, far more crispy than mine. Mrs Fenweather, we sent to the local Asylum and Torture Chamber for being a succubus, for she looked far too good in a bikini than any normal woman. And of course, I had the first Mrs Dunsnoopin burnt at the stake, for being a vampire, for she was feeding off her husband, as could be seen by the unusual bites all along his neck. And to be on the safe side, I had her dug up, decapitated and staked to the bottom of her grave. And our 'beloved' herbalist has been growing St John's Wort of far too great a quality. Plants that green are only grown through a pact with the devil himself."

Meanwhile, the village drunk has circled the whole village, approaches the group from the other side, surprising many by cart wheeling through the crowd unexpectedly. He crumples into a giggling heap.

Suddenly a crash in the corner caught the attention of the slightly confused and highly annoyed crowd. Veronica was thrashing around on the floor, her eyes rolled back in her head. Just as the town doctor stepped forth everyone was quietened by the rasping words bursting from her convulsing body, "For a short time we all may see, a glimpse of what was history. Werewolf cry haunts us again, suspicion falls upon our men. You must look out for actions wrong, even if he does belong, although he may not fit the bill, quietly he waits to kill." As the last words escape her lips, she collapsed into a dead faint, leaving the villagers to ponder her prophecy.

Unseen by the arguing villagers a young girl of about 8 years of age named Belle huddles in a nearby doorway, watching the progress of the debate with fearful eyes. Since being accused by Johnald the red she had been cowed by terror, for she had long since lost her family and was always the village scapegoat for whatever strange occurances could not be blamed on shaun the village fool because of her short hair and boyish appearance. Gathering together her courage, she timidily approaches the crowd and tugs on Ms Deux's sleeve to get her attention.
"Um... thanks, Ms Deux, for sticking up for me..." she mumbles whist looking at the ground. "Johnald is so scary... I thought.... I thought everyone was going to...." she breaks off, and takes a few deep breaths. "I don't know if the strange lady over there was talkin' true or not, but either way we already know right? we need to think about who isn't acting normal. i think those that've been awful quiet so far are the most dangerous, because if we don't notice them..." she trails off, embarassed at having called attention to herself.

Delia smiles and kneels down, putting both hands on young Belle's shoulders.
"That's alright," she says quietly, tilting the girl's head up so their eyes meet. "Johnald didn't really mean it, he's just jumping at shadows, that's all. Don't be scared." She hesitates, thinking through what she wants to say, then adds, "Even if you are scared, it's okay." She moves a little closer and whispers almost conspiratorially, "I'm scared too; I don't know who wouldn't be." Even as she says it, her eyes flit distrustfully to those who haven't spoken yet, her teeth catching her lower lip.

Belle smiles shyly and twists her hands in her breeches pockets, secretly pleased that Ms Deux listened to her, but unwilling to say any more as she thought she could feel the others staring. Blushing deeply, and still nervous about the tall readhead who towered above her and cried out her name as soon as lycanthropy had been mentioned, she nevertheless looked over Ms Deux's shoulder and gave Johnald a nervous smile, before looking down again and quickly retreating to the doorway of the potter's house and curling up in the corner to watch the preceedings with wide eyes.

"Who was that," says Johnald, stepping closer, his steps falling heavy. "You've been speaking to the child." His voice is laden with distaste.
He gazes into Miss Deux's eyes, wondering what might lie there; then casts his own downward, to the ground, and the shadows pooling there. In his head, he feels the scampering of claws; every shade around him seems...sharper.
"I do not suspect you," he assures Delia, "but her...I urge you, be careful, and stay away from all this night."
At this he raises his voice. "Perhaps we should each of us stay alone this night; safety lies in numbers only when those numbers are certainly your own."

Delia hesitates, still kneeling on the ground, her hands falling to her knees. She straightens and looks at Johnald, sadness in her eyes.
"Are we going to allow this curse to turn us all against each other?" she asks in a low, despairing voice. "Johnald, please, I know you suspect her, but she is still only a child. I will not be near her this night...but with all of us alone in the night, how are we to know if someone has been...been...ki..." She breaks off, unable to say it, her other hand lifting to cover her mouth. She pauses to regain her composure, then says, "We need a meeting every morning; just to be sure that no one has been...hurt during the night..."

"THE 'RIGHTEOUS' RANGA SEEKS TO DIVIDE AND CONQUER! WARE! WARE! Also now might be a good time to repent, I here the mormons have some good arguments." The madman begins to spout random nonsense immediately after this outburst, as he rolls to and fro on the dirty road.

Mrs Dunsnoopin comes running up to the two young people, dragging the unfortunate Freddy behind her. "Now, now. This is hardly the time for that sort of thing. For all you know you could be sleeping with one of them! Yes. That's right. We all know! And we don't like it, do we Freddy?"
"Umm..."
"Of course not. Which is why we propose to begin research into the issue of inter-village sex with afflicted townspeople with an aid to creating an education program of Anti-Werewolf Villager Sex Before Marriage. To protect our white, family values. Werewolves are against the family unit!"