Re: Mafia: The Last Resort [D7: Mixed Result]
11-23-2011, 08:18 PM
The few who rise on the morning of the seventh day do so with heavy hearts and stricken minds. Their sanctuary, The Last Resort, is now a house of death. It reeks of it, in spite of their best efforts. But the numbers of corpses grew while the living dwindled, and now, so fixated on the death of their foes, the fallen lie where they died, unhonoured but hardly forgotten.
It is in this state of mind that these few meet, scanning the all too familiar faces in a single glance. They know who is dead. They don't have to think about it any more. The missing are all too obvious in their minds.
They shuffle to the first room of the deceased. Once they might have run and leapt, but there was no thrill of danger. No incentive. They knew what awaited them behind the gleaming door.
And indeed, they find SleepingOrange. His expression is calm, and you know he passed away peacefully.
SleepingOrange was Nazario Silver. When he came to the Last Resort he was likeable enough, if a little anxious. However, word soon got around as to what he was capable of. Death, they all whispered, and turned their backs against him. The residents of the hotel feared and shunned him, and he responded accordingly. At first he tried to win their favour, helping everyone he could and talking to all who would listen. It didn't work. Slowly his attempts became fewer and fewer, until they stopped completely. The guests were happy for him to be out of their sight, and so out of mind. In his position of pariah, however, his resentment grew. It infected his good nature and corrupted it, until all that was left was an unholy rage. Not that you would know it to look at him, of course, but when some shady individuals finally offered him a place as an equal, he found just the outlet for that anger.
And so Nazario Silver joined the murderers of the Last Resort. His ability was to nurture death wherever it could be found, and the wild accusations of a lynch mob formed the perfect environment. Every time somebody was at soft lynch, SleepingOrange could rush the lynch and have them die immediately. He was capable of doing this three times. As such, he was part of the Mafia in the role of Executioner.
A weak smile flickers over the faces of those who still care, but that number is few indeed. After all, there is still another missing from their number...
They find the room of this person empty. The place is thoroughly searched, but there is no trace of them: only their various and interesting belongings. The current survivors fan out through the hotel. It doesn't take them long to find what they're looking for.
In the kitchen, a pile of sliced and torn rags is the first sign that something is wrong. A few splashs of blood, and then a lengthy trail, confirm this suspicion. Not sure what you will find, the few walk on until a much mistreated blender and a grinning skull reveal it all. Spread out across once shining steel surfaces a message is written in the processed flesh of ProfessorLizzard. It reads as follows:
The sight is enough to induce vomiting in a few. The only solid remains, the bones, sit in pans where the meat must have been boiled off. There isn't anything that could be much clearer about the murder.
ProfessorLizzard was Anzo Dionysus. His insatiable curiosity dragged him to the Last Resort, and compelled him to investigate all that was mysterious or unknown. It didn't even have to be interesting: anything that held a shred of the unknown became an obsession for the man until a light was cast into these dark corners of his knowledge. When the murders began, a quest of a far more noble calibre was taken up by him, and he devoted himself to finding the scum. Every night he would be capable of thoroughly investigating a person in the hotel to the extent that he could be certain of their guilt or their innocence. As such, he was a Sane Cop, and accordingly Town aligned.
The remaining four return to their hall of discussion and sit. Stares are exchanged, and then the talking begins.
With four alive, it takes three to lynch.
It is in this state of mind that these few meet, scanning the all too familiar faces in a single glance. They know who is dead. They don't have to think about it any more. The missing are all too obvious in their minds.
They shuffle to the first room of the deceased. Once they might have run and leapt, but there was no thrill of danger. No incentive. They knew what awaited them behind the gleaming door.
And indeed, they find SleepingOrange. His expression is calm, and you know he passed away peacefully.
SleepingOrange was Nazario Silver. When he came to the Last Resort he was likeable enough, if a little anxious. However, word soon got around as to what he was capable of. Death, they all whispered, and turned their backs against him. The residents of the hotel feared and shunned him, and he responded accordingly. At first he tried to win their favour, helping everyone he could and talking to all who would listen. It didn't work. Slowly his attempts became fewer and fewer, until they stopped completely. The guests were happy for him to be out of their sight, and so out of mind. In his position of pariah, however, his resentment grew. It infected his good nature and corrupted it, until all that was left was an unholy rage. Not that you would know it to look at him, of course, but when some shady individuals finally offered him a place as an equal, he found just the outlet for that anger.
And so Nazario Silver joined the murderers of the Last Resort. His ability was to nurture death wherever it could be found, and the wild accusations of a lynch mob formed the perfect environment. Every time somebody was at soft lynch, SleepingOrange could rush the lynch and have them die immediately. He was capable of doing this three times. As such, he was part of the Mafia in the role of Executioner.
A weak smile flickers over the faces of those who still care, but that number is few indeed. After all, there is still another missing from their number...
They find the room of this person empty. The place is thoroughly searched, but there is no trace of them: only their various and interesting belongings. The current survivors fan out through the hotel. It doesn't take them long to find what they're looking for.
In the kitchen, a pile of sliced and torn rags is the first sign that something is wrong. A few splashs of blood, and then a lengthy trail, confirm this suspicion. Not sure what you will find, the few walk on until a much mistreated blender and a grinning skull reveal it all. Spread out across once shining steel surfaces a message is written in the processed flesh of ProfessorLizzard. It reads as follows:
To those left alive,
This is TimeothyHour. I have opted to forsake any pretence of anonymity in my last days, especially a pretence that everyone knew was erroneous and false.
If my calculations are correct, by morning, my last compatriot will have died, and I shall be the only member of the Mafia left standing. The irony is that, all along, I was their leader, and now I am without anything to lead. And soon, I too, either through lynching or the acceptance of my plea, will be dead.
See, Drakenforge poisoned me a few nights ago and became my, as he put it, âMentor.â It was in order to regain his ability to kill as a vigilante. Each night after, I would be given the antidote, and poisoned again, to put me at his mercy. If he died, I would die. And thus, the Mentor became untouchable. In this way, he has slowly killed of the remainder of my comrades. I suspect that, as my Mentor, he cannot kill me, or he simply doesnât want to go to the trouble of killing and finding a new mentee.
I have resigned for my fate. In my current state, there is no way for Mafia to truly win. I donât really want to win, anymore. Iâve had a lot of fun killing everyone here. Itâs proven to me that, slowly, my condition really has improved. I am finally, finally satisfied with myself.
However, Iâm not going out without a single proposition, a plea:
Lynch Drakenforge.
He is last of the town among us, and if I canât win, nor do I want the town to succeed. With his death, I will die, and both Mafia and Town will be condemned to Hell. The two third parties remaining will the winners and winners alone. This I swear to you, on my name and on my death: What I am saying is the Truth. If my torturer dies with me, then I will be satisfied, and relent to the grave.
But until then.
Vote: Drakenfoge.
This is TimeothyHour. I have opted to forsake any pretence of anonymity in my last days, especially a pretence that everyone knew was erroneous and false.
If my calculations are correct, by morning, my last compatriot will have died, and I shall be the only member of the Mafia left standing. The irony is that, all along, I was their leader, and now I am without anything to lead. And soon, I too, either through lynching or the acceptance of my plea, will be dead.
See, Drakenforge poisoned me a few nights ago and became my, as he put it, âMentor.â It was in order to regain his ability to kill as a vigilante. Each night after, I would be given the antidote, and poisoned again, to put me at his mercy. If he died, I would die. And thus, the Mentor became untouchable. In this way, he has slowly killed of the remainder of my comrades. I suspect that, as my Mentor, he cannot kill me, or he simply doesnât want to go to the trouble of killing and finding a new mentee.
I have resigned for my fate. In my current state, there is no way for Mafia to truly win. I donât really want to win, anymore. Iâve had a lot of fun killing everyone here. Itâs proven to me that, slowly, my condition really has improved. I am finally, finally satisfied with myself.
However, Iâm not going out without a single proposition, a plea:
Lynch Drakenforge.
He is last of the town among us, and if I canât win, nor do I want the town to succeed. With his death, I will die, and both Mafia and Town will be condemned to Hell. The two third parties remaining will the winners and winners alone. This I swear to you, on my name and on my death: What I am saying is the Truth. If my torturer dies with me, then I will be satisfied, and relent to the grave.
But until then.
Vote: Drakenfoge.
The sight is enough to induce vomiting in a few. The only solid remains, the bones, sit in pans where the meat must have been boiled off. There isn't anything that could be much clearer about the murder.
ProfessorLizzard was Anzo Dionysus. His insatiable curiosity dragged him to the Last Resort, and compelled him to investigate all that was mysterious or unknown. It didn't even have to be interesting: anything that held a shred of the unknown became an obsession for the man until a light was cast into these dark corners of his knowledge. When the murders began, a quest of a far more noble calibre was taken up by him, and he devoted himself to finding the scum. Every night he would be capable of thoroughly investigating a person in the hotel to the extent that he could be certain of their guilt or their innocence. As such, he was a Sane Cop, and accordingly Town aligned.
The remaining four return to their hall of discussion and sit. Stares are exchanged, and then the talking begins.
With four alive, it takes three to lynch.