Re: Mafia: The Last Resort [DUEL: Round 7]
10-09-2011, 04:33 PM
With the death of the duellist morning arrives, such as it always does. With the last wisps of night having been chased away, there is no alternative but to cover the body and go downstairs for whatever the day may bring.
The first thing to strike the guests is a tantalising smell, rich and delicious. Drawn onward as if in a dream, their cautious steps lead them unfailingly to the dining room where a feast has been laid out for them. It includes among it not the usual fare of breakfast, but an array of delicious meals: soups, meats (delicate cold cuts or sauce-drizzled dishes), savoury jellies, pates and a dozen other types of dish that you fail to find names for as you stare out at this vision. Each plate, each selection, is nothing short of perfectly arranged and made. The scent of the entire heaving table is beyond delectable and before anyone has even fully grasped the enormity of the feast, a good number have begun to eat.
The taste doesn't disappoint. Each bite is heavenly, if unusual. Everything has a flavour running through it that you can't quite place, but you are too caught up in delight to care much.
It is only when every last morsel has vanished from the table that everyone pauses and looks at one another. A few are visibly embarrassed by the sudden gluttony that overcame them, but they are quickly ignored as someone notices a silver cloche sitting quite innocently and undisturbed at the end of the table.
It takes only a moment to lift it up and find the note beneath. The words are formed from printed letters, torn from newspapers, magazines, and anything else the author could get their hands on.
And so you do.
Ixcaliber was the Black and White Man. He lived in a murk of greyscale, having lost his colours a long time ago. It didn't take long for the things he touched to lose colour too, and soon everything he owned had slipped into shades of grey.
Even so, Ixcaliber could do more than just take colours. He could absorb them. And not only that, for once he plunged another into his greyscale world they would also lose their face and their memories, their personality and their talents to him. For a little less than a day the Greyscale Man could be a real person. But it would drain away, sooner or later.
Every night Ixcaliber would therefore be able to target someone who had died, and be able to use any actions or abilities they may have had. In addition to this, he would also be told who the person had targeted on previous nights. He was Town aligned.
With mounting horror the guests face the day, and once more discuss the issue of the noose.
With 15 alive it takes 8 to lynch and 5 to soft lynch. The day will end on 16 October, 7PM GMT.
(For clarity of flavour, all events written about in PMs took place before the duel unless I found reason to state otherwise.)
The first thing to strike the guests is a tantalising smell, rich and delicious. Drawn onward as if in a dream, their cautious steps lead them unfailingly to the dining room where a feast has been laid out for them. It includes among it not the usual fare of breakfast, but an array of delicious meals: soups, meats (delicate cold cuts or sauce-drizzled dishes), savoury jellies, pates and a dozen other types of dish that you fail to find names for as you stare out at this vision. Each plate, each selection, is nothing short of perfectly arranged and made. The scent of the entire heaving table is beyond delectable and before anyone has even fully grasped the enormity of the feast, a good number have begun to eat.
The taste doesn't disappoint. Each bite is heavenly, if unusual. Everything has a flavour running through it that you can't quite place, but you are too caught up in delight to care much.
It is only when every last morsel has vanished from the table that everyone pauses and looks at one another. A few are visibly embarrassed by the sudden gluttony that overcame them, but they are quickly ignored as someone notices a silver cloche sitting quite innocently and undisturbed at the end of the table.
It takes only a moment to lift it up and find the note beneath. The words are formed from printed letters, torn from newspapers, magazines, and anything else the author could get their hands on.
'I hope that you enjoyed your meal. I spent such a long time preparing it, so it is a shame that Ixcaliber couldn't have been here as well â that is, in a form where they were fit to eat anything.
If you wondering what exact meat you were enjoying, I hope it isn't too difficult a guess by this point.
Either way, you'll find the bones in the kitchen.'
If you wondering what exact meat you were enjoying, I hope it isn't too difficult a guess by this point.
Either way, you'll find the bones in the kitchen.'
And so you do.
Ixcaliber was the Black and White Man. He lived in a murk of greyscale, having lost his colours a long time ago. It didn't take long for the things he touched to lose colour too, and soon everything he owned had slipped into shades of grey.
Even so, Ixcaliber could do more than just take colours. He could absorb them. And not only that, for once he plunged another into his greyscale world they would also lose their face and their memories, their personality and their talents to him. For a little less than a day the Greyscale Man could be a real person. But it would drain away, sooner or later.
Every night Ixcaliber would therefore be able to target someone who had died, and be able to use any actions or abilities they may have had. In addition to this, he would also be told who the person had targeted on previous nights. He was Town aligned.
With mounting horror the guests face the day, and once more discuss the issue of the noose.
With 15 alive it takes 8 to lynch and 5 to soft lynch. The day will end on 16 October, 7PM GMT.
(For clarity of flavour, all events written about in PMs took place before the duel unless I found reason to state otherwise.)