Mafiawesome: The San Luis Penguins

[not_so_tiny]

Here we go!

 

Vote: No Lynch

[Mundi]

Vote: No lynch

 

Now I reckon this here will be a real nice and fair game.

[jayseven]

Cheers again, Dyson!

 

Votes so far (11 is the majority)

No Lynch (14): Cube, Dannyboy, Coolness-Bears, Lillster, MadDog, Eenuh, Dyson, nintendohnut, maase, jonnas, not_so_tiny, mundi.

 

MoogleViper (1): Tellyn

 

Tellyn (1): Moogle Viper

 

The first day is over. The sun sets over an unsettled town.

 

Please PM me with your decisions. I will initiate the next day once i have 90% of the targets, so get them in sooner than later.

 

As I said before; you should all post during the day phase unless told otherwise. Failure to do so for two days straight will lead to exclusion from the game. I ain't shitting with you.

 

I will PM warnings and reminders, but they will not continue forever.

[Jimbob]

Here we go, my first game.

 

Vote: No Lynch

[Ellmeister]

Its night time, the majority has been reached :p No talking!

[jayseven]

(sorry if this is too long...)

 

1st Night

The smoke marbled in the lamplight, projecting down onto his ‘slab’. He spat on his pea-green rubber gloves and rubbed them together until the goo was a hue of pink. With a squelch, he pulled out the last bullet, this one in the liver.

 

‘well now, lookee here…’ He gave himself an imaginary pat on the back, and replaced the cigarette, into the kidney bowl-cum-ashtray, sitting abstractly between jayseven’s jaw and collarbone. He turned to his journal, and entered in some more figures and notions into specific boxes from the rows and columns that filled the page. ‘Looks like a lotta people targeted the sheriff before his downfall.’ He remembered the letter he, too, had sent to jayseven the previous night. Connor sighed. Fat load of good that is to know, huh. Extinguishing the cigarette and hurling his soiled garments into a corner, he slumped away up the stairs to bed.

 

***

As always, all the lights are on at Moriarty’s, but barely a sound was heard. Besides the boss’s drawling.

 

‘Hussy! Will you stop fidgeting for one second. I’m jist askin’ a few questions, is all.’

 

‘Aw Moriarty, c’mon now, you’ve been asking me these nonsenses all night! The nights are mine, boss, you know that.’

 

‘Ok Scarlett, just one more question;’ Moriarty swigged and sucked at the dregs of his third bottle, swaying a little more than usual; ‘if there were two guards, and two doors, and onnuvvem had a key to the truth, and the oth’ad a truth to the key, but you knew not which, then which door would know to know first, and which how would you know to as—’

 

‘Oh, that’s just it.’ She starts to leave. ‘That’s just about the biggest pile of crap I ever heard.’ Go to bed.

 

***

Out on the causeway, another interrogation, of sorts, was taking place. Vincent was man-handling the brown horse, laying one hand after another, mumbling something about lengths of wood and nails.

 

‘Hush now, gee-gee. If someone gets hungry enough, you’re gonna need a wooden overcoat too, mmm?’ He shouts over his shoulder at the fellow behind him, each of them a pen and paper in hand; ‘that question is just bull. What sort of answer do you expect?’

 

‘It’s not a crap question, sir. I think it’s awful vital the town has its freedom t’speech n’all.’

 

‘Listen once again, I am the undertaker. If I were you, I’d be more worried if my sense o’ humour wasn’t so darn morbid, y’understand? Now go on, git. I have a feeling she’s for me.’

 

The editor tipped his hat, despite Vincent not looking nor caring, and made his way home. Vincent slicked his eyebrows apart, and ran his fingers through his hair, and gave a curt bow.

 

‘Good evening, Mister’ she opened. ‘Might I speak with you more… privately?’ With not another word, she took him by the hand, and away down the alleyway behind the surplus store. The horse harrumphed, and trotted behind awhile, as horses do when they don’t know to mind their own business.

 

***

Pinkie Pete swore he never knew no songs by heart, he just let his fingers do all the thinkin’. Such clear-headedness was troublesome for any pioneer of the west, so Pete was glad for the job in Barbar’s saloon.

 

Amidst the chatter and hubbub were few familiar faces. Near enough every able-stomached man chose Barbar’s pot-rottin’ juice over Moriarty’s finer malts, as a matter of beans rather than principle. But interestingly, the Pastor and the Postman were at Luke’s table. Luke was chewing on an unlit cigar, as was his habit. He was laughing and slapping his thighs at his own jokes, while the Pastor and the Postman were looking the worse for wear.

 

‘Wossamatta boys! You caving so soon? But I’m only up twelve dollars!’ Luke chuckled.

 

‘Whish onovvyoo do I di… do I di… dooeyerect mi’woords to?’ The Pastor’s cards were half in his hand and half face-up on the floor, or the table, or wherever they’d slipped out. One hand trying to lean on his waist, the other arm pointing at the Luke in the middle. ‘Eff you… Eff you see… Effuseenaman? Bigman. Teepee. ‘Eey… Eey livsinoneofem! T’istroo.’

 

‘is that who you’re looking for?’ Luke pointed at a man stood with the saloon doors still swinging behind him. A man with crocodile-skinned shoes and a white hat.

 

The man was looking around the bar, until his eyes rested on the piano player. Before he could start to make his way there, the dog-collared Pastor had halted him.

 

While the pastor was blabbering, the postman was nodding off, then catching himself. Luke plucked the cigar from his mouth and winked at Pete. Pete nodded, and slunk off.

 

‘Well there, Postie, it’s not closing time, but y’ought go home because I don’t think you can stay here.’

 

The postman collected himself and left, with one leg tap-dancing and the other doing the waltz.

 

Outside he paused to remember the way home. ‘Rye.. Rye’arr buss.. sshh.. shhwee---’

 

‘Alreet, Postie?’ Pete steadied the postman with an arm, and turned him like a weathervane points him towards his house. ‘Jes’ keep on straight, you’ll be home in no time.’ The postman tried to doff his hat in thanks, but instead knocked his glasses off, which hung on their cord around his neck.

 

‘Fankyoo, sunny! I nevr much thi’ drink, y’know.’ He set off, like a dizzy bee, muttering the wrong words to himself all the way.

 

***

Back inside, the pastor was making efforts once more, and to entirely the wrong person still. ‘Confesh! Confesh! You! You… don’ seeeeem t’look… like yoo. Nunnofyoo doo- *hic* -ooo…’

 

‘Confess?’ He spat.

 

The pastor nodded. ‘Yesh! I want to forgeev…’ The pastor had opened his arms, and motioned to hug the newcomer. Slapping his hands away, the stranger snarled.

 

‘I will confess nothing to an inebriated sonofa bitch who shames the cloth he carries on his pot-bellied frame as yourself.’

 

‘Confesh! Yoo mush, yoo injun, yoo.’

 

‘Ok. Ok, I will confess this. I ain’t no Indian, y’hear me? I’m only here for one reason.’

 

‘Wosshat? N’injun? Sheeet…’

 

‘Let’s just say my mother don’t want two sons no more.’

 

***

Barbar saw the Deputy enter the saloon, and put down his glass and cloth. He went and greeted Dirk, who quietly whispered in his ear and took him out of the saloon, a grip on his arm.

***

Pete, happy the Postman was far away enough now, pulled his pickings from his pocket. On the front was written ‘to jayseven’, while on the back was written the Postman’s first name. Inside, the letter read; I’m good.

 

‘Huh. Well how ‘bout th—‘ But before he could finish, it went black for Pete.

 

Once Charlie was sure Pete was unconscious, he let go of the potato bag closed over his victim’s head, Charlie was pacing up and down, scratching at his arms. ‘Shuddup. SHUDDUP sally. Shut uuuup. No. No. Yes, this is the right guy…’

 

***

The doc seemed half-frenzied when he walked into the deputy’s office. Barbar was behind the bars, sharing some joke with Dirk.

 

‘Uh, howdy boss.’ Doc started, ‘it’s bout time for your check up, yessir.’

‘Ah, doc, sure thi—’

 

BLAM. BLAM BLAM BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.

 

‘say, Doc, maybe we best do this another time, huh?’

 

***

The all-familiar cacking laughed had long died down. Snake-skinned boots had left the scene. Between the flapping of the doors was spied a body, slumped on the floor, leaning on a barstool with a frozen hiccupping face, was the vacant body of Moriarty.

 

Tellyn is dead. He was Moriarty, a drunk investigator who more often than not got things wrong. He was good.

 

***

‘Oh, Vincent, yes, Vincent… oh…’ She moaned, behind the supply store.

 

‘What, Scarlett?’

 

‘I love it when you nibble me that way.’

 

‘… Honey, that ain’t me.’

 

She begins to turn blue. She screams.

 

***

Elsewhere, a man checked his traps, unable to sleep, while another slept under the stars, dreaming of gold.

 

***

The postman finally made it home, and sat in his chair with one shoe off and on, and hurriedly leafed through the letters before he forgot who he was looking for. He dropped them all on the floor, and by the time he had re-arranged them he had done and lost the thought. Who was he looking for again? He held a letter in his hand, certain it wasn’t the one he was going to open, but full of urge to open it anyway.

 

I am good, it read.

 

1st Night is over. 2nd Day begins now.

 

19 Remaining Players

 

Zell

Mundi

Ellmeister

Cube

Gizmo

MoogleViper

Not_So_Tiny

MadDog

Jonnas

Dannyboy_the_Dane

Coolness Bears

Mr-Paul

Dyson

Nintendohnut

The Fish

Eenuh

Maase

The Lillster

Jimbob

 

10 votes is the majority.

[MoogleViper]

What the funk? That was way too long. You don't need to write out a paragraph for every little thing. Just a quick mention will suffice, if anything at all.

 

e.g. "elsewhere a dog killed a cat, and a prostitute had sex with a mouse." or something like that.

[Jonnas]

It may be a bit long, but I like it.

 

Anyway, what happened in the cell there? Any of the characters heard Tellyn being killed? Or was the BANG BANG something else?

[Ellmeister]

Long write-up but a good one, trust the ever literate J7 :p Nothing from me.

[Mundi]

Not much to say here except I see I was targeted in the write-up

[Cube]

Interesting write-up. I don't have anything to add, though.

[Mr-Paul]

Wow, that was long and well written! In someways having so much detail makes it harder for us to get anything useful from it.

[Jimbob]

Even though it was a little long, it was a darn good read. Nice twist added within as well.

[Jonnas]

Well, we should start suspecting people. Mundi, are you the slut in the write-up? Because I'm not trusting the gravedigger at all.

[Nintendohnut]

I quite liked the long write-up, although there are two downsides: either people won't have time to read it all or won't bother or something, orrr it may contain so much information that it gets totally confusing and nobody can understant what's happening. Either way, we shall see.

 

I don't have much to add either, I'm mentioned in the write up but I just can't tell what is going on at all with so much happening! Anyone got anything useful tonight?

[Ellmeister]

Well, we should start suspecting people. Mundi, are you the slut in the write-up? Because I'm not trusting the gravedigger at all.

 

Why the accusation of mundi?

 

Well, we should start suspecting people. Mundi, are you the slut in the write-up? Because I'm not trusting the gravedigger at all.

 

Why the accusation of mundi?

Oh I take it back I see now.

[Eenuh]

I have nothing that can be of help I think. Trying to figure out what happened in the write-up, haha.

[Mundi]

Well, we should start suspecting people. Mundi, are you the slut in the write-up? Because I'm not trusting the gravedigger at all.

 

No and I´m not the gravedigger either.

I see no benefit out of pointing out who I am right now, I just put it out seeing as it could be useful to know for someone later on.

[Dannyboy-the-Dane]

Gotta agree, as interesting and well thought-out this may be, I fear it will be too much. But we shall see about that. It's interesting, though, that we get the information through the write-up, and that the roles themselves aren't a secret. I personally like this approach, though as mentioned I fear the write-up is a little too long. If it works or not, we shall see, but I'm positive I will enjoy this game.

 

Anyway, can we deduce from the letter taken from the postman by Pete the piano player that the postman is good? It seems like the letter was from the postman himself to jayseven, in which case it could seem like a confirmation of his alignment. It also seems there was another letter confirming someone as good, but due to the postman's drunkenness, it seems it wasn't delivered. If we can find out who the letter was from or to, we may be able to confirm someone else as good.

[MoogleViper]

I have no info. Just letting you know I'm still playing.

[Dyson]

I've been bitten by a fuckin' zombie. I need someone to heal me by the end of tonight or else I'll also become a zombie, which isn't pleasant by the sounds of it. I think we have an epidemic on our hands here. Aside from that I unfortunately don't know a thing.

[Gizmo]

Sorry but that's waaay too long to read at 00.30

 

Nothing to add until I read it tomorrow, but posting anyway just in case I get hurt for being too slow or something.

[Jonnas]

I've been bitten by a fuckin' zombie. I need someone to heal me by the end of tonight or else I'll also become a zombie, which isn't pleasant by the sounds of it. I think we have an epidemic on our hands here. Aside from that I unfortunately don't know a thing.

 

A-ha! So you're the prostitute, right? (She was bitten by something mysterious)

 

I don't think the gravedigger is good, so if he turns out to be a suspicious fellow, you'll know who he is.

[Zell]

Got no info, I might be able to contribute once I've deciphered the write-up.

[Dyson]

A-ha! So you're the prostitute, right? (She was bitten by something mysterious)

 

I don't think the gravedigger is good, so if he turns out to be a suspicious fellow, you'll know who he is.

 

You got me, sweetie! Scarlett's the name. The client's name last night? Lil' ol' MoogleViper. Such a handsome young'un. But suspicious, perhaps. If something happens to me in the next few days you know who to look out for.

 

I guess it's for the best for the town if I reveal what I know in case becoming a zombie means I'm unable to post in the thread. Zombies die if they don't "taste" another player within two days, this is done by targetting someone during the night. If two zombies target the same person then neither of them will succeed. It's important to note that the biting doesn't spread the disease apparantly, so me tasting someones flesh won't infect them. I dunno if it'll injure them or otherwise or not though.

 

Zombies have to do this every night until they're healed. I beg of you, don't let little ol' me turn into a hideous monsterfreak!

Edited May 19, 2009 by Dyson