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[Vector]

VOTE COUNT

Okami no Rei
Leafsnail
Tiruin
Lenglon
Griffinpup - NotQuiteThere, Toaster
zombieurist -
Griffionday - Solifuge
notquitethere
Solifuge - Lenglon
Jim Groovester - Webadict
Ottofar
Toaster
Webadict - Leafsnail, JimGroovester, zombieurist

Not voting - Griffionday, griffinpup, Ottofar [needs replacement], Okami no Rei [needs replacement], Tiruin [hurricane]

Day end is scheduled for Thursday at 12:00 (-8 GMT), in 1 hour.  Three more requests for extension required out of six.  One more extension available.

Also, Okami no Rei did not ask for a replacement, so not prodding him is not okay. Also, if he IS asking for a replacement, please unvote him and add another replacement. He hasn't posted in a lot of hours.

Yeah, there was some confusion really not worth detailing here, which I was waiting on, but he seems to have asked for a replacement--so I'm updating the materials.

[Solifuge]

*sighs*

I don't believe Lady Webadict is being particularly suspicious here; certainly not enough to cast a vote against her. I don't see a strong reason behind Lady Leafsnail and Lady Groovester's convictions, and I suspect Lady Cado-Urist's vote is just born of laziness, as she has no real suspects. And no one seems to be able to spare any attention for Lady Griffionday's absolutely suspicious behavior.

As such... I'll cast my lot in against Lady Griffinpup. She has all but disappeared from the gathering. Yes I am aware of the vote count, and no I don't see the reason behind getting rid of Webadict. I'm willing to accept responsibility for what happens as a result.

[Solifuge]

Solifuge:you are misrepresenting my stance. I think it is ok for GriffDay to use a weak case as cause to investigate and ask questions, because doing so prompts discussion and allows us to gather a lot of information about the people involved. I think your actions, which have been phrased to stifle discussion, are not acceptable. You are just going for an easy lynch, and your hypocritical tunneling accusation of GriffDay is further evidence of this. You also have yet to explain the theory behind your RVS questions to me. How do you expect to learn something from them? Why do they matter more than asking me if I like the color blue or other such nonsense? what did you learn from them? I asked you this before and you've evaded it repeatedly, as a result I think you were just marking time, scumbag. who am I suspicious of? I'm suspicious of you, the person I'm voting for and talking to.

It wasn't just that Lady Griffionday used a weak argument. It was that she clung to that argument and tried to lead a vote to get rid of someone based on it. That isn't "putting pressure" on someone, that's trying to go for an "easy lynch". Moreover, she has been exhibiting a high degree of self-preservation without actually trying to investigate anything... just wheedling with others to protect herself, while charging towards NQT like a bull with blinders on. I don't understand how you can express such a double standard here, forgiving and even supporting her actions, while condemning me for the same... especially when she and I have not been doing the same thing at all! You need to be paying more attention to what you're saying, I think. And perhaps what other people are saying.

[Vector]

VOTE COUNT

Okami no Rei
Leafsnail
Tiruin
Lenglon
Griffinpup - NotQuiteThere, Toaster, Solifuge
zombieurist
Griffionday
notquitethere
Solifuge - Lenglon
Jim Groovester - Webadict
Ottofar
Toaster
Webadict - Leafsnail, JimGroovester, zombieurist

Not voting - Griffionday, griffinpup, Ottofar [needs replacement], Okami no Rei [needs replacement], Tiruin [hurricane]

Webadict has been lynched.  Please hold for end-of-day processing.

[Vector]

The Prince sits still for a while, looking into the distance, as though remembering.  Then he rubs the circles under his eyes and tells again, in a voice whose exhaustion only punctuates its youth.

"The first sign that something was amiss came when a girl asked Horatio to take out an old rug from storage, that had--been a favorite of my older brother's.  It seemed strange, almost territorial or possessive.  I was discomfited. . . it seemed she was trying to tell me something, with the old river-rug that looked so much like fair Ophelia's final resting place."

"Horatio?"

For the first time that evening, the Prince smiles fondly.

"Yes, he was my manservant.  We were boys together--his family had been in bondage to mine for generations.  He was cold and upright, perhaps, at times bereft of passion or fellow-feeling, but he knew me better than any other.  And, though his kindness had little warmth in it, he was always by my side.

"He comforted me when my parents died, and again when my brothers left, and again that evening. . . for as I said, as I said the worst was yet to come.

"He came to me later that evening, and told me that one of the girls would not leave off begging for the flesh of a white swan.

"So I sent him away for the bird, and he returned some time later pale and covered in white feathers head to foot, and told me the deed was done.  And I was glad, to bring a little pleasure and peace to the thirteen girls assembled, and perhaps bring their thoughts away from the condition of my castle, and to a warmth of fellow-feeling."

Vektor tries to sigh in a way that would sound indulgent rather than impatient--for after all, this princely tale was not sordid enough to bring in customers like "Legend of the Bleeding Nine."  Truth be told, he is bored.

The Prince drones on.

"We assembled at the table, twelve girls, myself, Horatio--and it did not shock me that the thirteenth girl was absent, since another told me that she was feeling ill.  No, that evening we were fifteen at that long table made for fifty, for Mother Death took her position at an empty seat. . . punishment for bounty we did not find others to share with?  I cannot know. . . I do not know."

"You, a Prince, believe that legend?"

The Prince drones on.

"Yes, fifteen at a long table made for fifty, and more Death alight than I could have imagined, places more left empty than could be rightly arranged for visiting ghosts, for my father and family, friends, and the chefs brought out a magnificent swan.  It was heavy enough that it took three boys to carry, spectacular in size, swimming in drippings and dressed a treat.  The scent was marvelously rich.  If you served such a bird at your tavern, you would never sell a drop of ale again.

"A white swan. . . a feast.

"The first cut, from just below the wing, was given to Horatio to taste.  I remember that he smiled at me, a little, before raising the first morsel to his lips.  We were all eager.  It had been an exhausting day.  The girls were nervous and I was. . . somewhat overwrought.

"He smiled at me, a little, and tasted, closing his eyes and chewing.  He swallowed.  He could not help a deep smile of satisfaction, the sort that so seldom crossed his face.  'Not bad,' he said, and I am sure he was about to say 'No poison' when the first girl began to scream.  You see, on the table's silver platter laid a magnificent corpse, cut off at the knees, missing her head. . . and wounded in the side, where Horatio had carved his cut.  She must have been a pale girl.  Beautifully arranged.  Exquisitely cooked.  Swimming in drippings.  Golden-brown."

Vektor swallows.

"I see," he says, and then thoughtlessly thinking of future profits, adds: "And did you eat her?"

The Prince struggles to master himself, unable to look away from a point just below Aureliusz Vektor's doughty right shoulder, and finally drinks down the vodka with a hiss.

"No," he says, "We did not."

You are Webadict, the White Swan.  Preternaturally graceful, innocent, solemn, delicate, demure. . . anyone would love you and want to take you for their wife.  You came here to offer yourself to the Prince... well, no, you certainly wouldn't be that direct.  You came to place yourself in his presence, wear your best perfume and flutter your best fan, and find out what would happen.

The other girls mostly weren't all that pretty, which was a positive.  They had nice personalities and good hair, maybe, but they weren't... well, you know.  You couldn't say it.  That would betray your legendary humility.

Unfortunately, one of the girls who showed up was your rival, The Black Swan.  You fought her over another prince a while ago, and it was all very tragic, and then finally you pretended to commit suicide to get her off the scent, but the prince killed himself in sympathy and you were both out a prince.  Boo.

Anyway.

You want this Prince, who has nice looks and an expensive castle, and you very much don't want The Black Swan to have him.

In fact, you'd like it if SHE killed herself this time.

Well, no.  You wouldn't like it, per se.  It would be awfully sad not to have a rival anymore.  You would be sure to cry and flutter your fan very gracefully, but unartfully, the way one does when beset by true tragedy--as is proper when one has lost a sister.

You are town.  You win when all threats to the Prince are gone.

You have a one-shot kill, but you actually aren't very good at this killing thing.  So: choose a target during the Night, and set it off during some subsequent Day.  You may change targets during any Night phase, provided that you haven't used the kill yet.

Night will last until Sunday at noon, in a hope of getting our two necessary replacements in the intervening time.  Send in your night actions ASAP so I can start writing PMs.

[Vector]

-snop-

[Vector]

That may have been a little bit too rude, for which I apologize.  *cough*  I can't even follow my own Princess Amendments...

So, without further ado: "Please do send in your night actions so that the game can move forward."

(I think I may have all of them, but I wanted to be polite just to make sure)

[Vector]

"No.  No one ate.  Horatio was sick all that night," the Prince says.  "I asked the castle's maidens to escort the girls to their rooms.  I stayed at Horatio's side, as he stayed by mine when I heard my brother died.  I had never seen him so distraught.  His eyes were red with crying (I had so seldom seen him cry, he who I knew all my life), his face was white as ash, and in his black clothes he looked like a ghoul.

"I did not sleep that night.  I was--I feared that if I left him, he would do something rash.  He did not oft show his passions, as I have said.  And, as I realized so clearly then, the man I had been leaning on had one else.  He served me in perfect loyalty, a loyalty I did not deserve, and in return... what, an solitary room in an empty castle?"

"I see," says Vektor, trying not to yawn in the Prince's face.  "That is certainly a very sad tale.  An almost unbelievable enchantment.  Consider your vodka paid for in full."

"Are you not listening?" says the Prince, rising from his stool.  His sword clanks at his side.  "Listen to me!  Old man, I. . . I order you to--"

"Young man," says Vektor, "If I say no, and you cut me down with that knife, you will have killed a barkeep for his exhaustion."

To his credit, the Prince blushes.

"I have lost my manners," he says.  "I--would ask that you listen to me, as a companion.  Please.  I am accustomed rather to listening to tales, rather than telling them, and--"

He begins to shake a little, and cannot move his blue eyes from where they have fixed on Vektor's brown.

"I lost my last brother that morning," he says.  "I have no one left.  I have been mourning for months--mother, father, uncle, friends, brothers.  I cannot tell if my hair is white with ash or shock, anymore, it seems all the same.  And I ran.  I am a coward.  But I could not face so much unfeeling death.  And I am no troubadour to gild mankind's raw passion with poetry, but a mere man who has lost his family and his way.  Won't you listen to me, ol--barkeep?  Please, sir, I will pay for your wares, and I regret your time, but please, sir, spare me some fellow-feeling."

"My name is Aureliusz," says Vektor, and pours him a glass of mead.  The Prince sits and sips his liquor.  "You have a story like every other, lad, full of love and death.  Tell on."

"We found my long-lost brother dead the next morning," the Prince says slowly.  "His stomach was cut, the entrails mangled by both blade and pressure, and his throat was cut.  He lay on a rug he had asked Horatio to take from storage, where I had put it away--a rug to which my elder brother was particularly partial.  A rug like water, now stained with his blood.  He had been dressed as a woman.  The window was open, but so was the door.  I was unsure if his spirit had been able to depart--or if it was stuck in that castle with us."

"You did not recognize your own brother," says Vektor.

"No," says the Prince.  "He had changed, and I did not know him."

You are Griffionday, the Hopeful Prince.  When first you left home it was in search of your elder brother, who took his long body and regrets and drifted off into the snowscape one evening.  Though you may have cried a little when he left you, nose scrunched against a cold windowpane, he was admittedly in a rather difficult phase.  You hoped that he would be back soon, mature and prepared to take upon himself the burden of his kingship, and went about your business as the youngest of three sons.

The wheel of seasons turned, but he did not return.

You rode out through the winter woods, dripping coin wherever mead dripped down thirsty throats, and were finally directed to a certain cursed cathedral, where you opened the door to a certain mausoleum door and found a certain half-decayed skeleton and a certain sword.  You had hoped, upon being told The Legend of the Bleeding Nine, that you would not find him amongst the dead--that he had been laid out in state--that the truth of the story had not been so sordid--that he would have fought to the end--but the carcass was huddled in the corner, skull down-turned, and that was the last of your cynical brother.

You voyaged some months, always returning again and again to that deadened place, wondering why you had let him go, but unable all the same to give him a proper burial--and when winter's cold bud bloomed into spring, you met a girl in the cursed cathedral's weedy garden and laid your regrets aside.  Ah, she was beautiful!  A sea of red hair and gray eyes that pierced, a pleasingly full figure, a rosebud mouth that dispensed with scathing wit and the warmest love, a marvel, an erotic, glowing goddess, a queen--

Then you lost her.

You aren't quite sure what happened or why, sensing no signs of her dissatisfaction, but you awoke one morning and she was gone--and this time, you didn't wait.  You followed the rumors, even when they said something about a beautiful red-haired woman being transformed into an exceptionally pretty brown duck; you followed them back to your own castle, where it turned out that your own older brother was soliciting hands in marriage, having heard of The Cynical Prince's demise.  Therefore you girded your loins with hope, adopted women's dress, made eyes at your remaining sibling and, at sixteen years of age, threw your lot in with twelve damsels to search for your lady love.

Even if she was a duck now.

You will find her again, whatever it takes.

You must find your Duck.  You will be utterly heartbroken if she dies.

Each night and each day, you may inspect one of the players.

When you confident that you have found your Duck, you may ask her to come away with you--but be warned that anyone but Duck will probably be rather displeased to discover your masquerade.

Day is scheduled to end at 12:00 noon (-8 GMT) on Wednesday.  Four votes required for initial extension to Friday.

[[I need to write 3 more PMs.  None of these are directly relevant to the game, soooo feel free to play.  They will be sent out tomorrow morning]]

[Lenglon]

"I... No."
Lenglon takes a couple deep breaths, firming her resolve and composing her next words carefully.
"Lady Solifuge, your behavior yesterday was rather suspicious, so I decided to keep watch over what you did last night. Why did you visit GriffonDay the night she, i mean, he, died?"
Solifuge: Why did you visit GriffonDay last night?

[Lenglon]

...
stupid no-edit rule.
the first line in the above post is supposed to be colored. I typed mediumrochid instead of mediumorchid in the color tag.

[griffinpup]

Request replacement.

[webadict]

Jim Groovester.

[webadict]

Oh, by the way, I'm Okami no Rei now. Because woooooo, replacements... They make the game THAT much more annoying.

[zombie urist]

Swans and ducks... will we see owls? eagles? geese?

Why wasn't the vote tied?

Why did Solfuge last-minute vote Griffinpup?

[webadict]

Swans and ducks... will we see owls? eagles? geese?

Why wasn't the vote tied?

Why did Solfuge last-minute vote Griffinpup?

Solifuge attempted to save my life by tying the vote, since he didn't believe I was scum. However, something caused that to change and not tie the vote.