Hiyo, friends, raegbuddehs, Koji (and maybe even Mal)! This is your friendly galactic over---I mean, goofy, taco loving dinobot with a game to get us all in the mood to finish up our characters and bring Akatokiyami back to life once more!

Today, I am presenting our usual werewolf game with a fun new spin! We'll all be roleplaying as the characters we've created for the new AK! I'd like to emphasize that we will be roleplaying in this game, so try to keep wild, baseless accusations in line with your character's reasoning, and always type in the third person!

SPOILER: Click to show

RULES OF THE GAME

1: Fill out the sheet, COPY AND PASTE THE SIGN-UP FROM THE PERSON BEFORE YOUR POST IF YOU ARE ABLE TO.
2: Once full, roles will be RNG'ed and sent out through PM.
3: Day phase starts and everyone has 24 hours to vote on who they think the perpetrator is, then Night Phase is initiated after the lynching.
4: Those with Night Roles will send me a PM of their activities within 24 hours. If all roles are done before 24 hours, the Night Phase will end early. Their actions will be revealed at the beginning of the next Day Phase.
5: REPEAT UNTIL THE BLOODBATH IS OVER!

GUIDELINES

-Two Phases, Day and Night, both with a 24 hour limit.
-People will vote in thread during Day Phases on who will get a lynching. At the end of the phase, someone will die, their role will not be revealed if they had one until the game is over.
-During the Night Phase, those with Roles will PM the GM their actions, even the "werewolves"
- DO NOT SHARE YOUR ROLE WITH OTHERS UNLESS SPECIFIED
-BOLD AND CAPS YOUR VOTE

The Setting for this game is stated above the spoiler tag.

Alpha Werewolf: Head honcho, the Alpha can convert one player after two turns, negating the night kill.
Mortician : Can hide the role of a killed player once per game.
Mercenary : Can kill any person at night with a 25% kill chance. Cannot self-target.
Guardian : Can protect one person at night from all kills. Cannot self-target.
The Hunter: Can lock up a person to prevent their night action AND voting the next day.
The Spy: Stalks a person to see who visited them at night.

Sign Up Sheet:

1: Raewynne/Court

2: Absi/Morti

3: Sikes/Jeff -- lynched, day 1

4: Mal/Mallach

5: Mhairyn/Frox

6: Kuerina/Kurai -- killed, night 1

7: Malavai/Court

8: Caden/Haru

9: Mollindar/Frox

10: Jayne/Kojiru

This game will commence 24 hours after the seventh person signs. Roles may be adjusted to accommodate player participation.

All right, Ladies and Gentlemen (and Mal...and Koji), without further a due, the game shall commence! I extend my deepest apologies for the delay, I was rather caught up with work. Now, the rolls have been assigned via Random Number Generator, and have been PMed to you. You have 24 hours to make your accusations and for Players with roles to PM me their actions, and then the night phase will begin: 24 hours of time for the werewolves to make their decisions.

MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR!

---

As the moon rose low over the wetland city of Pinemarsh, Bard paused in his nightly rounds and turned his gaze skyward. The sun's pale sister was full tonight, with a rich orange coloring to her normally white surface. The Bridgeburners had been stationed in Pinemarsh for a week now, and he'd yet to see a sight quite so beautiful. The captain turned his gaze back to the road before him, a long and winding trail leading out of the city and into the marshes for which it was named. Towering pines loomed in the distance, a good two hundred yards of space cleared by the thriving logging industry that kept the city afloat. He was waiting for a patrol, the group should have been back hours ago, but there was no sight of them. It was unnsettling, but Bard reminded himself that there could be any number of reasons for their delay.

He caught a glimpse of something moving in the tree line, but it was too quick for him to get a good look at. He glanced to his left and noticed the guards in the watch post were looking as well. "What do you think, Vignar? Do you see anything?" The guard opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the silence of the night was rent asunder by a cacophony of mournful howls...the howls of wolves. From the tree line, twenty wolves exploded into the open. Each was the size of a bear, running on the hands and feet of men, with pelts the color of cold iron. The alarms were raised, and the Bridgeburners formed ranks as arrows leapt out to close the difference between the monsters and the defenders. [font color= Screamed their half mad captain, as the ranks surged forward to meet the abominations head on.

Bard's twin axes clashed together, forming the long pole arm as he met the first wolf with a powerful, overhanded slash. He split the beast's muzzle and gouged into its skull, and wrenched his weapon free with a feral, savage grin. The beast staggered, yowling in pain as its compatriots rushed past it and bulled into the ranks of Bard's soldiers. They buckled, falling back, and then remembered their discipline and pushed forward, shields and swords drawn. A low growl drew Bard's attention to the wolf before him, and he realized with a start that the grievous wound he had dealt it was healing. "No...no, that's can't be...they're a myth...they're..." He never got the chance to speak the word. The lycan was on him once more, its snapping jaws blocked by the haft of Bard's axe as he back pedaled and retaliated with a sweep of the frigid heads, icy shards spewing forth and burying themselves in the wolf's pelt. "WEREWOLVES! THEY'RE WEREWOLVES! TAKE THE DAMN HEADS!" He screamed, rushing forward to take advantage of his staggered foe.

The battle raged, through out the night. For hours the Bridgeburners held their line, fought to protect the village behind them and the people within. Any other enemy would have been nothing to these battle hardened heroes...but these were no normal foes. The beasts regenerated from every wounding, and though Bard and his men out numbered them, they could not overwhelm the monsters. The Bridgeburners were wiped out, slaughtered to the last, and as day broke, the villagers within Pinemarsh would find horror awaiting just beyond the village gates.

The battle field was slowly cleaned up, bodies moved and buried. There were no survivors, though eighteen naked bodies were found, bearing a multitude of wounds, each missing their heads. The bodies were burned, but a new sense of dread had taken root in the villagers' hearts. Soon, the only question on anyone's lips was "What happened to the last two?"

A raggedy young teen wrapped about in raggedy cloak sat under a low-lying roof to keep from the damp, her deep brown eyes watching the clean up with a blank stare. Death was nothing new to her, yet this one was more eerie. She had heard the howls from outside the room she managed to rent at the inn, her thoughts instantly going to the stories she heard from the other street rats of her hometown. But to think the faerietales were true; that werewolves did exist sent a shiver down the normally placid woman's spine.

Yet, there were rumours that the great scaly wings had returned as well, people spotting the massive fire-breathers in the distance. So maybe these werewolves weren't a myth after all.

If that were the case, that meant the people of this village unintentionally harboured a murderer, other than herself of course. Now, Kuerina would have to sleep with both eyes opened, lest the killer decided to claim her as their next victim. She had to be even more on guard.

Now she'd have to collect data on all these people, treat them as if they were her mark, in order to stay alive. She only had to figure out who could be this werewolf leader.

the delightful duo stood shoulder to shoulder observing the carnage; the female trembled, from nerves and fear, while the male stood fast, an anchor in these troubling times. He restrained her, using her ability against her, his calmness to coerce her emotions in check as she took in the massacre before her.

He surveyed the remaining few who had survived and shown themselves, stowing away the faint itching of suspicion when a behavior seemed out of place; his charge was shell-shocked, clearly overcome with the scale of deaths the wolves had created. She was green, unaccustomed to the trappings of war, and while he was no soldier, Mollindar had seen a fair share of death and wanton destruction.

The man was serious in his task, studying all who would start the accusations. He had heard stories back when he was still an active Seeker, he could recall the inevitable chaos and paranoid behaviors that survivors recounted...or evidence that his forebearers suggested had occurred when the wolves went unchecked.

Pinemarsh was a bad place to be, Aryn thought, shuddering alongside Mollindar, unintentionally drawing in the man's stoic demeanor. All the travelers said Brittenhollow was far more dangerous, but the Wolves lived in these marshes, snacking on unsuspecting villagers. For someone who had not once ventured from her home within the castle at Vertholt, it certainly made the world seem an unsafe place; the evidence was right there, smoldering in front of her very eyes.

"Who could do this," she murmured. "How could something incite so much chaos? Aren't we all to work together, isn't that what we're taught?"

Mollindar didn't respond to her questions, allowing them to carry on for the next to hear, perhaps to address.

The scouts had informed him of the carnage, but his company arrived too late. With heavy hearts, his men did what they could to put those lost in the madness of the night prior to a proper rest. A headcount followed, as was the proper procedure and when the news that two were missing it caused a stir. When it eventually reached Mallach's ears he trudged through the area which not too long ago was filled but with carnage.

Biting his lower lip and rubbing a gloved hand over the short pointy hairs on his chin Lord Dirson sighed heavily, weary from the day already. "Tell me true, there were 20 of these beasties?" A scout nodded in response as she hugged her long bow close to her chest, hood covering her face. "And yee count only 18?" Another nod. "Well gods be fucked, we've got a problem then don't we?" He mused and looked at those bodies still breathing around him.

If the legends were true, anyone of these people, these strangers to his eyes, could be a wolf in human skin. But whom? That was the pickle now weren't it? Two wolves in sheep's clothing quite literally waiting for the town to rip itself asunder with fear and superstition only so they could continue;their hellish work on the upcoming eve. He sighed loudly which was quickly followed by a groan.


"Gather the folks in town square. Mayhap they can spot someone who don't belong. And then we can get to the bottom of this here mystery."

Despite being nearby, Malavai and Raewynne were unaware of the fact that Pinemarsh was attacked until fate had already taken its ugly, destructive course. The two were visiting the family estate of the Cousland household, not to the knowledge of anyone besides themselves. While 'Wynne' moved with haste, Malavai had a slower pace, but they eventually neared the unguarded gate of the town -- least, the guards were lacking. Based upon that fact - guards weren't posted - Wynne couldn't help but deduce that the news was nothing but grim. And, well, the sights were just as gruesome. Wynne and Malavai gawked at the horrific portrait: piles of bodies littering the town, heads dismembered, bodies searing amongst flames. The townsfolk and what little of survivors were cleaning up the mess, but it was a sight that would never leave the mind, never tire of haunting someone. It corrupted the hooded woman, panic-stricken and fearful of what became of the man she loved. Not only that, but the reeking smell of burning flesh tormented the nostrils, bothered the taste-buds. Inhaling some of the smoke, both Wynne and Malavai coughed for a brief moment, before the cloaked woman choked out, "I-I... I can't go looking for him, Malavai." Her head didn't turn to face her partner, locked in a bothered gaze. "Not again..."

Those honey-oculars could see the markings. They were that of the bridgeburners. The bridgeburners were helping run Pinemarsh, seeing no command meant that they were all dead. They must have been. Had Wynne and Mavalai arrived sooner, maybe some could have been spared. They could have been sa- no. Thoughts like this would run rampant in her mind, shock of the situation overwhelming Wynne. But, seeing the Commander of the Claws in turmoil, Malavai would console his friend, sweeping her into a tight hug. He rubbed her back, shielding her view from the mass of corpses. Unreceptive at first, Wynne stood lifeless in his arms, traumatized that, once again, she did nothing to protect Bard. Another time that she lost someone she cared about. And yet, she was taking it surprisingly well -- anger set in. There was no room to cry or mourn, and she had already grieved for Bard once before... perhaps it prepared her for this?

Reaching up to clasp Malavai's shoulder, Wynne murmured, "I'm better, thank you..." The two uncoiled, and Wynne began the stride toward the center of the mess, where most had gathered. Her eyes didn't focus on the path, but rather the remaining bodies and the earth. Perhaps something peculiar would be found with her eyesight. The hunter's instinct kicked in, searching for clues that would lead to a culprit -- or two. Upon her search, her gaze stumbled upon a familiar ally.

"Commander Dirson." Crossing her arms, she stood beside him, vindictively muttering. "We must not let their sacrifice be in vain. Any news to report of what happened?" A tear rolled down her cheek which caused her to sniffle and wipe it with her hand.

Whoever did this would pay.

While Wynne stood next to Mallach, Malavai searched around, sapphire eyes looking through the smoke and carnage at the people. Surely there was a clue or face that stuck out suspiciously? Hood off, face visible, he raised his hand and covered his eyes like a visor, eyes still surveying the town from his position.

Results needed to be quick and effectively accurate, lest there be another attack at dusk.

Ah, chaos, beautiful beautiful chaos. For in chaos there was distraction, and distraction was advantageous to a man of persuasion such as Sikes. It was with luck that he had arrived during the clean-up, able to slip in unnoticed. Their guard was weak and spread out. Nobody would notice if a few things disappeared by the way side.

This talk of wolves? Of men that became beasts in the night? Ebenezer had spent many a night on the road. He had fought wolves before, but never ones that possessed traits ascribed to these creatures? Regeneration? Folly. Something else was afoot. Some illusion, no doubt. Whatever it was though was dangerous. He would remain in lodgings during the night, only working his craft during the day, when they seemed to be idle.

Not that he wouldn't be using the situation to his advantage, of course. In a hive like this rumours were bound to circulate, accusations, finger pointing. By controlling the crowd, he would be able to maybe eliminate a few pests. Of course, if he suspected who the real culprits were...well, less competition at least. Maybe he could 'inherit' their possessions. 

But for now, just go with what you can do. Eliminating the great hero Malarch would spread the chaos to the whole kingdom, bringing out an order of men who took what they wanted. Even rumour may weaken him.

And so Ebenezer mingled with the crowd, whispering. "Lord Dirson arrived a bit too soon, he must be in on it!"

The usually cheerful Caden had a somber expression on his face, bowing his head in a prayer for those lost, both the brave soldiers who defended the village with their lives, and the poor people who had been twisted into these beasts by whatever foul force was at work. He wished he could do more, but there was so much he could do. He offered his healing prowess to anyone in need in the village, but sadly, those who took part in the battle were beyond saving by the he and the other members of the order came here. All they could do was ensure their proper passing into what awaited them beyond this life.

His silent contemplation was intuited by Aryn, as she voiced her confusion as to how this could happen. Rising his head with an calm expression he said "The skulls of some people remain quite thick for most of their lives, hence why your father and other people need to deal with brigands and other such folk so much. But this...goes beyond human comprehension. These beasts must have been born from some dark force. One which is intent on nothing more but this kind of savagery..."

As Lord Dirson called out to them, he would turn with a smile to the younger member of the order, placing his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring fashion as he said "We're lucky your father is here. If there is anyone capable of dealing with something so foul, it’ll surely be him" before he started to move towards him as he instructed. All the while trying to keep an eye on the people around him. He wasn’t from these parts, but even in his sheltered life in Brittenhollow he's seen his fair share of a cities seedy underbelly. Though it seemed like a slight understatement considering what they were dealing with now...

Time passed as it does and as town folk began to gather so did their whispering and nay saying. Eventually one of Mallach's men caught wind that he himself was being blamed and brought it to the Lord Commander's attention. "Really?" The man nodded and Mallach scoffed and shook his head. Turning his gaze to Wynne he smiled and warned her she might want to cover her ears a bit.

Turning his gaze upon the crowd (and eventually to his accuser) Mallach went stone faced. He could not say he blamed those for suspecting him, yes in fact it was a convenient circumstance that brought him here, one might even say he was on his way already (in truth just passing through). His blue eyes navigated around those gathered before for a moment, not bothering to yet speak.

And then as fluid as a coursing river he drew his blade above his head and with a brilliant flash of light, curling purple blue lightning filled the air above his head followed by the near deafening clap of thunder. "Now that I have your collected attention." He spoke, not raising his voice and adopting his diplomatic tone he allowed his blade to spin in his hand and allow it's pointed edge to fall into the ground, on which then he rested his cupped hands atop it's pommel.

"If I truly wished you, or anyone else dead I would not resort to hiring beasts, let alone becoming one." He allowed his face the slightest of smirks. "Anyone whom knows me on the battlefield knows I'm an altogether different sort of monster, as is any other battle hardened soldier.

"Nay, it was not I nor any of my company involved. I came to help, and arrived to late. So now I do what I can to aid those survivors. So good sirs and ladies, unless you would like to back up these allegations with some facts, I suggest you shut it." He paused for a moment and then for dramatic flare added.. "Before I have you escorted to the gallows for wrongfully accusing a member of the King's court and being a public menace."

(fyi that's a vote against Ebenezer XD)

As the rumours began to circulate about the 'Great' Lord Commander, Kuerina gave a scoff, her dark-hued eyes rolling in their socket at the absurdity. To make matters worse, she saw that it was the pretender, Sikes, spreading said rumour. The man had loose lips, something that made the young woman instantly despise this man.

Hugging her bow close to her body, hidden underneath her cloak, Kuerina rose from her seat against the wall of the inn and slipped between the men and women that gathered about Lord Dirson. She watched the man unsheath his special weapon, using his attuned ability to gather the rest of the people's attention.

After his speech, the teen scoped the rest of the people; men, women, and children stricken with the lingering fear of the midnight attack and uncertainty etched upon their face. Inhaling deeply, she let out her breath slowly.

"As much as I dun like this high hat, he's speakin' truth. If anythin', those that spread the rumours be havin' sumthin' to hide. Innit that right, Mister Sikes? I be thinkin' you coulda been this monster we's be needin' to find."

The warning was duly noted and passed onto her associate, Malavai. As soon as Mallach warned Wynne, she weaved her way toward Malavai, muttering the warning in his ear. Then, covering her own, she'd observe those who succumbed to the lightning's ripple-crackle sound. The man who was younger but physically taller followed suit, ears protected by his hands. Then, after the sound dispersed from the general vicinity, Wynne and Malavai removed their appendages. "Find anything?" She inquired, to which he muttered. "Nothing yet... Just been watchful of any suspicious characters, Milady." He was an intelligent high noble, often wary of others. Like Wynne, he was guarded; maybe not so crazily obsessed about it, but still enough. He was pondering the situation, the pieces still missing to the puzzle. And, like any unknown situation, people fired back and forth against one another. It was a basic need, Malavai presumed, to have a scapegoat for this affair -- but, it might have meant that one also needed to hide. To put the blame on another so that they could survive and thrive, so that they could continue the onslaught.

Rubbing his smooth chin, Malavai groaned softly, his sapphire orbs swaying back and forth with the accusations. He knew Commander Mallach Dirson; as much as he wished to disbelieve he could be the culprit, he was a candidate just as much as anyone. It didn't help he dangled the threat of death so easily. Still, he found himself more mistrusting with the newcomers: the slimy Sikes and the girl. Others were around but didn't officially announce their presence and opinions. He found it useless to pin someone now - he wanted to find some more information, some more clues to reduce the likelihood of killing an innocent. He knew Raewynne felt the same and had a similar stand, so when he glanced at her, he asked. "Have you gathered any news?"

Raewynne shook her head softly, vision glancing over those gathered. Truthfully, she found it difficult to trust anyone. While she did have some trust for Malavai, she did have to now think logically. She wanted to expect the unexpected, be prepared; knock the surprise away if it was someone she considered loyal. Crossing her arms once more, daggers hidden in her cloak as her bow did as well, though it protruded a bit because of the size, Wynne awaited a response from the people, wanting to gauge their expressions and reactions. She was a woman who adhered to the shadows, utilized them to her potential -- she didn't want to cause a scene or stir attention; she needed to observe the entirety of the situation and assess it as it unfolded.

Malavai too remained silent, sword at his right hip and shield attached against his backside.

Soon, the two had to come up with something. They were just hoping to see more unravel.

(Vote: None)

Sikes strode out to face his accusers, shuffling through the crowd unwavering, unafraid of them. They had more to lose than he did, after all. His reputation was more slight than the high and mighty army. "My facts are this, Lord Dirson. Your company arrived very promptly. That is all I have said. Now, if you want to show yourself as a tyrant king and put me to the noose, then you could leave and get away with this atrocity." His eyes then darted to the youth standing beside him.

"Oh really, now? And how would you know that he speaks the truth...unless you spent the night with him~" His words were teasing, he knew what he was implying, that either she were the other wolf or the pair had some other measure of familiarity.

"Lord Dirson, explain to me how your company could have arrived so soon, after the event, but not during? I'm no man of learning, but I'd say that to arrive here unhurried you would have had to been close enough to hear the screams. And if you heard the screams, why didn't you hurry?"

Anger and hatred flashed across the usual deadness of the 'youths' eyes, taking in a gargly snort before spitting at the pretender's feet.

"I ain't sharin' no bed wit any fancypants lord, you pisant. Nor would I conspire wit the likes of em. I at least know what I am, and it ain't no damned wolf or pretender. So go spread your filth elsewhere."

All the while, the long, pale fingers of Kuerina were poised near the quiver at her hip, brushing over the goose feathers that was the fletching of her arrows.

The Descendant of Obscurity was the last to happen onto the scene, it would appear, and he seemed to miss most of the previous actions and whatever accusations that came before the lightning, which rang through the dark male's ears. He felt his left eye twitch, but did not make any motion of drawing himself closer to the group gathered. All he could tell, thus far, was something was amiss. With a step forward, Absi found himself standing closer to the gruesome seen with his hands dangling freely at his sides. His eyes narrowed while he raised his right hand to the hilt of his weapon and removed it from his back, still well within its sheath. Afterwards, he placed the flat of the weapon against the ground and leaned on it as he slowly lowered himself into a crouched position. The movement would then allow him to rest the flat of the sheath against the ground while he raised his gaze to those around him, and then moved his orbs in the direction of the dead bodies. What a strange event this was.

Jayne Invilus looked over the "battlefield" where something had taken place, wearing normal loose fitting clothes instead of his armor pieces for traveling. Yes, something did happen, and the locals refer to the terror of some "Werewolves" around the area. He knew the insignia though, the "Bridgeburners" as they were called, apparently fought valiantly till the end. What worried Jayne was all this talk of how there were still two wolves unaccounted for in the field. Taking a knee in front of one of the bodies, he looked sadly at the ragged clothing items now cascading into the wind off the body, claw marks all across his chest. Closing his eyes, Jayne took a deep breath before heading towards what appeared to be a gathering of townsfolk nearby.

Joining the gathering, it appears one Mallach Dirson was leading the group at present, starting some sort of speech that Jayne came in the middle of. Rousing it was, but some of the crowd didn't take to it, as a dissenting voice or two was heard. "I would advise against bringing discussions of politics or royalty into this. I doubt the werewolves care about that when killing people, savage beasts they appear to be. If they can be anyone during the day, then we must assume ourselves as equals now." Jayne would add to the discussion, not wanting to cower and hide as others do in this situation.

((Vote: No One))

Aryn's brow furrowed, tarnishing her otherwise docile features and creating a rather unbecoming ridge. Her deep brown eyes flicked toward her leader as he spoke, a depression sinking into her bones as shards of her innocent world continued to fall. Before she could respond, however, she was ushered by the man toward her father's voice, and she took in - unwillingly- a degree of Caden's calmness; while she had wonderful control and will in regards to her abilities, the emotional turmoil within had lessened her capabilities.

Mollindar trawled along behind the senior mage, keeping a close eye on both him and his charge, along with those they passed enroute to the the square; so far, all seemed well, but the retired Seeker kept a hand on his blade at the ready, just in case. In his experience, it paid to be hyper-vigilant. He just hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

They arrived shortly after the initial commotion, where the heat of the magic in the air raising the fine hairs on their arms. The girl gasped, quietly, at the wild accusations, clutching with trembling fingers for a hand or an arm to hold onto, to ground her for the actions that would follow the threat -- perhaps he was bluffing, but Mhairyn Dirson, daughter of Mallach Dirson, had never been given the opportunity to find out otherwise. " 'He who accuses first oft has secrets to hide,'" she whispered urgently as the proceedings went on, as the accuser and accused bickered, recalling one of the early lessons taught within the Order of the Sun.

Ever rigid and stoic, Mollindar made no attempt to extract his arm from the clutches of the anxious teenager. While she mumbled something along the lines of agreeing with her father, he made several passes over the spectators, noting faces and reactions. Only the behaviors of the accuser, this Sikes, and the scraggly one defending the Commander, struck him as odd; the former because of his haste, and the second because of her eagerness to agree so...readily.

Concern flitted across his features for a moment, and in the next, he was unsure if it was his emotion, a valid one he felt for Aryn, or one of hers crossing into him due to their connection; either way, he came to the realization that he must prepare her for the possibility of her father being slain...or worse.

Voting is now closed, this is the end of Day Phase 1.

Votes are as follows: Mallach Dirson received 1 vote against him, Ebenezer Sikes received 2 votes against him.

The crowd, still raw and frightened from the previous night's attack, were quick to turn on Mr. Sikes. He was, after all, a stranger to this town, having arrived so soon after the attack. With the Commander in chief of the King's Army denouncing him as a suspect, it was no surprise that the people drove him to his knees before the commander, demanding that Mallach bring the King's justice to this rabble rousing renegade. Mallach would have been hard pressed to deny them, and why would he bother in the first place? The man had just tried to have him lynched, after all, and there was indeed every possibility that he was in fact one of the Werewolves. The towns people made a circle, two of Mallach's guards coming forward to take the place of the peasants who had been holding Ebenezer Sikes. Mallach drew out his mighty Eiphyre Sword, the dread Storm Bringer, and took a stance to behead the kneeling man. "Do you have any final words? As a man, you are owed at least that." Sikes glared at Mallach, hatred and loathing in his eyes. If it were in him to fight back, to rebel, to pronounce his innocence, he did not. Instead, he made a most offensive noise as he sucked a wad of phlem and mucus into his mouth and spat it out onto Mallach's boot.

"Noted." Replied the Lord Commander with a look of mild disgust. He the next moment, his blade descended. Ebenezer Sikes and his body parted ways, one flopping to the right, the other rolling off to the left. The townspeople winced collectively. Some booed, some cheered. Some were silent. They all watched for an hour, waiting for some sign that they had slain the right man. A man in a wolf's form would turn back into a man at death, but a wolf wearing man's skin would shed it for the same. No such thing happened. Sikes' head remained human, his body equally unchanged. The people had to accept, grimly, that there would be no easy end to this nightmare.

All was not lost, however. Mallach Dirson's display of crackling thunder had echoed throughout the nearby lands, a sound so loud it could wake the dead.

Which, in fact, it did.

From beneath a mound of his slain brothers and sisters in arms, a man stirred. Eight of the wolves in the attack had died by his hands. He'd wounded more, rallied his soldiers when they'd needed it the most. Though others had lost hope, Bard; Captain of the Bridgeburners, Wielder of the Eiphyre Twins, Hailbringer, had survived. He awoke in horror, the smell of death permeating his senses, though all he could see was darkness. He still held his axes, and though his wounds had been severe, he could only feel cold. He struggled and dragged himself free from the bodies, his horned helm pushing through the masses. The first breath of fresh air, even as tainted as it was, tasted sweeter than honey. With a cry of pain, he dragged himself free and into the open. In the dying light of day, he saw that the flesh around his wounds was cold, extremely cold, almost to the point of being frozen. He realized that Hailbringer's powers must have reacted to his injuries and lowered his core temperature enough to slow the bleeding. However, now that he was free and conscious, he was going to be thawing out...fast.

With this in mind, Bard hastened to snap and twist his axes' hafts together, using the extended weapon to prop himself upright. He fell more than once, but as he moved more, it became easier to ignore the pain. The village was so close, and yet it took him the better part of an hour to reach the gates. People screamed at the sight of him, horrified by his wounds or simple the sheer amount of unspeakable gore that covered him. He stopped just a few feet away from Mallach, his vision blurring. He seemed to recall that he knew this man, and certain respects were due. Saluting was impossible, he couldn't seem to raise his arms, so instead he straightened up as best he could, and raising his voice proclaimed: "Bard, Son of Alrik, Captain Commander of the 9 Imperial Cohort, Reporting for duty sir." His voice was a raw croak, but clear as a bell. His eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped, collapsing to the ground with a sickening crunch. People rushed forward to help the man, only to find he was completely unconscious, though still taking slow, shallow breaths.

With all his strength, Bard had lived up to his Bridgeburner's code: First in, Last Out.








SIKES HAS BEEN EXECUTED. HE WAS NOT A WEREWOLF. NIGHT PHASE 1 COMMENCES NOW, YOU HAVE 24 HOURS TO PM ME YOUR ACTIONS. TWO WEREWOLVES ARE STILL AT LARGE.

(ya'll can keep Rping if you like, just no voting)

As much as Malavai and Raewynne often dangled the life of another by a thin thread, this was a different matter. And, well, the two were soon guilt-ridden, even if they failed to cast a name -- a person -- to their untimely death. It was regret for not having done enough but instead idly watch as an innocent man paid for someone else's crimes. The bickering wasn't helping any, didn't sway Sikes from facing the fingers of those adamant about his involvement with the onslaught. The one lad, however, had a point: everyone, from that point on, was to be on equal standing. Nobility, political or military status didn't matter. If werewolves were the cause, any who opposed would be greeted by their fangs and claws. And, if the man proved not-guilty, would it be both the teenage girl and Mallach who would then be seen as suspicious? Time would only tell.

Malavai wasn't a man of many words at times, more of an observer in most situations. He was a man who focused on assessment, taking in the finer details and examining both sides before dawning a conclusion. Unfortunately, with a predicament like this, he had little time to formulate, little time to act or speak. He watched resentfully as a villager was sent to his deathbed. Much to ponder about, that was certain. He took a quick glance at his partner before sighing; for a tactician, the commander was making quite the first impression by selecting an innocent, yes?

Cloaked still, Raewynne's eyes averted back and forth between the villagers, the 'convicted' man and the Commander, ears honed on the words spoken amongst one another. She couldn't -- didn't, rather, wish to observe the dismemberment, but it happened all too quickly. Wincing, although her visage was obscured by the hood, Raewynne's honey-orbs frantically trailed the frame of the deceased commoner, hoping for signs of werewolf-tendencies. But, the beast wouldn't unravel, the creature's blood nonexistent within Sikes. She hung her head, both disgusted with the hasty nature of the decision and the fact that the culprit had one, yet again. Her right hand trembled while the left rose to palm her face, head shaking lightly at the consequence.

Betwixt the gap of her fingers, Raewynne's eyes noticed the stumbling, staggering nature of... a person? Adjusting her gaze to lock onto the approaching man, her jaw dropped and her legs became unsteady. Fixed onto her scope was Bard, who survived, way battered up than she'd desire. Malavai caught a glimpse of her wobbling stance, moving to hold her upright. She didn't even really notice he was keeping her steady; maybe she was dying yet again from shock -- since Bard kept dying and 'resurrecting' from the grave on her -- but Raewynne was frozen. And maybe for some sick twist of comedic humor, Bard saluted Mallach and then dipped into unconsciousness. The way he fell... She cringed.

Malavai stopped her from taking a step forward, whispering into what he assumed was near her ear. "Milady, it's probably best that you stay here; you'll only get in the way of those rushing to give him medical attention. I'd advise seeking him out when they put him in a bed and tend to his wounds." Clenching her jaw, she couldn't help but agree. Reluctantly, she admitted that he was right. Besides, he wasn't in a state to talk, least not yet. Longingly though, those pools of honey trailed the Captain of the Bridgeburners, waiting for the 'signal' to enable her body to resume function and move. Once he was carted off, she'd follow, Malavai accompanying her for friendly support. The business in the square was concluded, she presumed. Surely the people felt bad putting down one of their own that they wouldn't continue on the same day?

Would the attendees let her in anyway? Or would she anxiously be pacing about for hours? Guess she'd figure out soon enough. For now, she placed the issue of her duty on the back-burner, focused on the condition of Bard.

Bard was carted into the nearby inn by the local keep, who graciously placed the man in the largest room so the field medics and healers would have room to work. Bard's axe was brought in by one of the villagers, who mumbled something about getting a cloth and some water to clean it up. Field Medics who had originally been in the village to support the 9th Cohort now went to work stripping Bard out of the ruined armor and cleaning the areas around the wounds with boiled rags. Once his wounds and the surrounding areas were clean, poultices of ground herbs and alchemical reagents were packed lightly into his wounds, combined with anesthetics to ease the pain somewhat. The healers then came in, innate personal abilities activating to react with the poultices and stimulate the regenerating of Bard's wounds. They did not close much at all, but a more healthy color returned to the wounded areas, and the healers washed the wounds once more before stitching them shut with dried cat's-cut. A coarse liquor was rubbed over the wounds to sterilize them, followed by a layer of more helpful poultices that were bound firmly against his body by warm, freshly boiled bandages. The healers carefully made Bard swallow a concoction that would stimulate his body's blood production, then moved him to a clean bed, placed many blankets over him, and saw to his comfort before leaving him to rest.

Alone, Bard slept. A single lantern lay near his bed, low and flickering. Five guardsmen milled about in the Inn's main room, both there to guard Bard from attack, and to make sure Bard was put down if he changed. As day gave way to night, however, their fears of such a thing were alleviated. Bard remained firmly human, clearly the Alpha had wanted nothing to do with such a furious soul.

The Guard relaxed marginally, and so few would've taken notice if Raewynne happened to slip in for a visit.

Malavai would escort 'Wynne' to the inn, where he'd give her privacy. Maybe he returned outside to gather more information, maybe discuss the issue with people and gather a collective opinion. While he knew that the two were romantically involved, he was certain Raewynne would ask him of the situation -- he was a perfect source of knowledge if one wished to figure out what transpired here. So, he'd presumably greet Wynne later and inquire as to what she discovered in her conversation -- assuming Bard was conscious enough to have one.

Wynne found herself pacing, much to her dismay. If she wasn't pacing, she was sitting in one of the chairs at the inn. She doubted that even a drink would settle and ease her nerves. Her mind was already restless, and, unfortunately, all she could do was wait.

Guards surrounded the injured Captain and as night grew closer, their anxiety was easy to pick up on. While protecting his safety, they were also anticipating to see if he'd turn, if he'd shift into one of those monsters. They were gauging if the man had to be put down, too. If that were the case, Wynne pondered if she'd be able to do the deed -- it was a thought she couldn't budge or rid herself of, as much as she detested it. It was difficult to say what she'd do, but the slow progression of time wasn't aiding in the slightest. She was left to have her horrid thoughts roam, until it struck the hour that all would be well. Guards grew lax, leaving an opening for her to slip in somewhat unnoticed.

Gulping, she entered the room silently, eyes roaming the room. The room was dark, a single light the guide to finding Bard. Amongst the equipment was the bed where he laid still, likely asleep. Not really wishing to disturb him, as rest was imperative for a great recovery, she'd walk toward him slowly. The guards outside, if noticing the woman, probably thought nothing of it -- still, maybe thought otherwise. Even so, Wynne neared the bedside, a chair already waiting there. She sat down upon it, which was stationed on his left side near the flickering light, gazing upon his resting figure. Removing the hood, which revealed her feminine features -- honey irises ablaze by the light of the fire and long, strawberry-blonde locks -- Wynne would, ultimately, reduce the chance of fright, should he stir awake.

She was unsure of his condition, but he seemed at peace. As she extended her hand, the tips of her digits gently roamed along his forearm until they halted at his own appendage. Gently her fingers entwined with his, thumb soothingly caressing the back of his hand. Whether he was asleep or stricken with a coma-induced state, she hoped this soft and light gesture would signal to him her supportive presence. And, well, his ears would surely pick up her words as she sighed, sarcastically retorting. "You sure do love to scare me, don't you?" Her other hand ran through her hair, and she sat there in silence -- perhaps for a while, maybe for a few moments. It depended on if Bard would wake up, more or less.

The threat of the wolves lingered dangerously still, so she also needed to be wary and on-guard for that.

After the beheading and not witnessing the cold body of Sikes turn left Kuerina with slight disappointment. She gave a shrug of her shoulders; his death was necessary. It made it that much easier to find the real wolves. That, and she had less competition in her line of business now. All that stood in her was was Sikes' little pet that liked to also call herself an assassin. But that would come at a later time. For now, she would keep her eyes busy looking for the monsters.

Pulling her cloak closer to her body and turning away from the crowd, Kuerina headed back towards the inn, hands patting over the purse she carried upon her hip. She barely had enough for a room for a night, and this caused her to mentally kick herself for her naïve thinking while she was away from home. She didn't expect to keep her visit her longer.

Giving a sigh, a crow with a two toned coloration dropped from the overhang of the inn's roof and landed upon the girl's shoulder, she in turn running her fingers over their glossy sheen. "Let's go Kråke, we be havin' some wolves to find."

Sheathing Stormbringer, Mallach lowered his head and offered a small prayer to the man whom he just beheaded. He stayed and watched for quite awhile, deciding he owed the dead at least that much making sure his corpse wasn't defiled anyway as those gathered watched to see if he turned into a wolf or not. Personally, Mallach didn't much buy into the lore but who was he to argue? Clearly these beasties were among them regardless of Mallach's personal beliefs.

However, after the crowd started to to mummer that perhaps he wasn't a wolf after all and started looking for shelter for that evening, a soldier thought dead wandered into town and introduced himself before collapsing in the street. Rushing to the man's side he bellowed orders to have him moved, as well as having the beheaded Sikes' corpse looked after and treated with all the proper burial rights a man of the King's nation deserved.

---

He waited some time before deciding to visit the room of the inn in which this Bard had been taken to. Guards and healers alike said he'd been quiet and appeared not to be effected by the creature's so called curse. "Can he be awoken, I have some questions for this man." He asked one of the healer's quietly, his arms held crossed before his chest as he looked past them at the sleeping form. His eyes flicked to Wynne, whom judging from the way she was behaving, had some sort of relationship with the man.

"Any information the man could provide would be most vital."

Bard stirred at Wynne's touch, a small smile tugging at his lips as his eyes opened partially. "You know I don't mean to do that to you...", He murmured, one hand moving to press lightly against her own. He was too weak to squeeze, but his hand felt warm and rough, which was better than cold and corpse-ish. "Listen...Rae, while I'm awake, I need to tell you---" before he could finish speaking, Mallach Dirson entered the room. Bard made an effort to sit up, but found the pain more than he could bear. He bit down a cry from the agony and focused on the Lord Commander. "Sir, begging your forgiveness, I can't move much. I won't be standing on ceremony." He joked, but Rae'd have no trouble identifying the tension and restraint in his voice as he worked with the ache of his battle scars.

"I'm glad you're here sir. You need to know this too. The werewolves can be stopped, but only if you kill the Alpha. I saw the bastard slip away before I went down. If you kill the Alpha, his victims will be released from the curse." He coughed roughly, shifting on the straw stuffed mattress. "Whatever you do, you've got to find him and put an end to his evil. As long as he's alive, this nightmare isn't going to end."

Raising his hands up he smiled and simply shook his head. "No need for formalities here, remain comfortable lad." Dropping his diplomatic tone, he adopted his more familiar approachable self as he moved to the bedside and knelt upon a knee. He didn't say much as he listened to Bard speak, rather he simply made small grunts of confirmation and nodded his head until the man had, had his say.

"Well this has all gone tits up, now ain't it?" He mused mostly to himself before sighing and raking his hand through his hair. Giving his jaw a firm rubbing again he looked into the man's weary eyes and spoke truthfully. "To be honest Bard, I was hoping you'd tell me this werewolf nonsense was just that. Men dressed in wolf skins to scare folk.." He gave his head a shake and stole a glance at Wynne before turning back to Bard."I dun s'pose you've any idear on where these beasties be hiding and what more, whom they might be so I can have'em gathered up and investigated, could'jee?"

Relief. She was grateful Bard was responsive, a gentle grin accompanying her softening expression. Wynne chuckled, head shaking, "Remind me to slap you when you've recovered some more."

Life was returning to Bard, evident by the faint warmth of his hand; like a flame slowly rekindling. All that she could ask the gods above was for Bard to be safe -- she must have been blessed. As he signaled some concern, she leaned forward to listen, but her head swiftly turned to face the man who entered the room.

Embarrassed was hardly the word to describe Raewynne as Mallach entered the room. Not only was she flustered to be caught with her hand coiled around Bard's, but she was skeptical. As her face ignited, blush barely noticeable in the dim light, she couldn't help but feel their moment was invaded -- and worse. Her cautiousness was overabundant, anxious that even if Commander Dirson possessed this knowledge, it'd somehow bring harm. She should have known better, but her judgment often was clouded when it came to her emotions. Thankfully, he didn't mention much about the clasped hands, but she stood to greet the man.

It pained her to watch Bard move -- she was half tempted to stop him then and there, but the injured man followed formality, or at least attempted. "Mallach -- and yes, hence why I'm also present." Her hand lost strength, limp in Bard's own. She debated whether or not to resume the now public display of affection, hand eventually returning to her side. Fiddling with her fingers, Raewynne's attention perked with the information Bard had to disclose. He coughed and shifted, causing her to fetch the cup of water at the bed-stand. Cup in tow, she moved to offer him a sip, placing it near his lips. If he declined, she'd retract the glass.

Mallach knelt beside the bed and Raewynne caught a glimpse of him gazing at her. They shared a gaze that probably said something along the lines of: "Yeah, this is terrible; worse than we thought possible." She remained silent as Mallach made his inquiries, crossing her arms. Although slightly reticent, she mused inwardly. "I sure hope this doesn't escalate out of hand..." Wynne could only hope.

Whatever pallor had shown within Aryn's face vanished, the white of shock culminating when the naysayer's head thumped to the ground; her knees unlocked, along with every joint responsible for keeping her upright, her eyes rolled up, and down she went in a dead faint, nearly dragging Mollandir down on top of her. Sikes' death had been the first death she had witnessed, and while she thought she was prepared to witness one's demise, she clearly wasn't (though, she hadn't considered the possibility of her father being the one to cause it).

Mollandir, as unlike a knight in shining armor anyone had ever been, grunted in surprise and whorled about to ease her descent to the ground. Both of them were wearing their travelling leathers, slicked with condensation from the fogs and mists permeating the land, and the bodyguard's task was not an easy one, with or without Caden's assistance -- if the magister wanted to assist, he would have been welcome to, however his attentions would be better used elsewhere.

Bard's reappearance soon took all the attention, and all the attention followed him toward the inn. It took him a few attempts, but Mollandir eventually managed to lift and carry the commander's daughter toward the inn, well behind the crowds following the risen soldier. The former Seeker finagled for a room, frowning internally at having to resort to using the Order, and carried his charge toward her bed for the foreseeable evening; it wasn't a room she would have been used to -- even her apartments within the Tower were extravagant compared to others her age -- but she would have to endure straw, not down. He would make sure she was comfortable, and then leave to find more information.

Even retired, he still had tendencies.

Absi Mac’Aodha, a male unknown to most of these parts, shifted his blue-green orbs in the direction of those gathered before he stood up from his crouched position and curled the digits around the hilt of his partner, Mournblade, only to have picked it up so that he may strap the large weapon onto his back once more. The movement, should any one have noticed him before, could have been useless; however, the weapon was large and prevented him from crouching at the time, due to its current position. But that was his problem. By the time he strapped the weapon onto his back, it was time for the beheading, and he moved to watch. Life was often filled with darkness and light; life was often filled with death and life. Both things beautiful, and both things could not be stopped. After all, it was the natural order of things.

He took in the sight and took note of the lack of change, and then not too long after, the rising of a man whom Absi had not known personally, but was impressed nevertheless. Must have been strength that kept him alive through whatever it was he suffered through; strength was the only logical explanation, next to will-power. The Mane of Chaos, Blacksword would eventually tear his gaze away from the male and look about the scenery with curiosity in his eyes. None could probably tell the thoughts that rippled themselves through the male's mind, nor the emotion that danced its way along the length of the male's frame, and in honesty, he could not either. All of this happened too fast for him to draw forth a proper conclusion, but that was life. And in that life, he had to make sure he lived long enough to see it through until the end. With that, he moved forward and strode along the length of the scene with eyes intent on paying attention to whatever details he could capture.

Bard had chuckled in response to Raewynne's request, but nodded anyways. If she were going to slap him, at least it would be well deserved. Bard was considerably less concerned about Mallach catching them in a moment, but knew Rae to be more private, and so did nothing to exasperate the situation. Once he'd said his peace, he was relieved to find Raewynne had poured a cup of water for him, and drank slowly, until he had drained the cup entirely. "Thank you, Miss Fletcher." There was still affection in his voice, but he'd restrained it. He glanced at her face and smiled a bit, before returning his attention to Mallach Dirson, who was now kneeling next to the bed. Bard wished he could give the man the answers he sought. He cleared his throat a bit, frowning.

"I'm sorry, sire. No such truths are known to me. I dinnae have time to sit down and chat with them...though one did chew on my leg for a bit. Had to put a quick stop to that." It then occurred to bard that the only reason he had not been cursed by his wounds was probably because he had personally put down each wolf that had bitten him, thus assuring that the Curse ended within him before it even began. Slapped broad in the face by his own stupid luck, Bard was silent for a long moment before realizing just how taxed he was. "Eiphyre will kill the furry buggers, this I know to be true. You have to hit them alot, and go for the vitals, but the starmetal is your only hope against the monsters when they shapeshift." His voice grew a little quieter and his focus drifted. "Gods above, I feel so damn heavy...I don't believe I've ever actually been mauled before, this is a new experience for me..." Whatever the healers had given him to ease the pain was clearly settling in, and his head rolled a bit, his gaze fixing in on Rae. In a voice that was perhaps far too low for Lord Dirson to clearly hear, Bard murmured: "Your eyes are beautiful, Wynne..." before he drifted out of consciousness again, eyes slipping closed as he drifted intpo a dreamless sleep. Sadly, that was all the information Mallach was going to be able to pry from the healing man this night. He'd have to seek his answers elsewhere.

**ALL PLAYERS HAVE MADE THEIR CHOICES, I WILL BE POSTING THE RESULTS SHORTLY**

With Bard slipping back into unconsciousness, Raewynne and Mallach would go on with their plans for the evening, returning to their quarters to rest up and prepare for the day to come. Later that evening, Mallach would find himself stepping out to drink in the cool night air and try to ease his frayed nerves. Things were going to get very ugly around here, and Bard had not given him any hope that their situation was going to become any easier over time. As he stepped around the corner of the Inn to relieve himself, he heard a cracking twig. Mallach was just about to turn to investigate when something solid crunched into the back of his head, and he saw nothing but darkness.

When Mallach came to, it was to the sound of a crackling blaze in a nearby fireplace. "Ahh, awake are you? So sorry for the inconvenience, Lord Commander, but I'm detaining you for the evening." A tall figure stood before Mallach, who would find himself relieved of his sword, locked up in on of the cells in the local guard barrack's. "That dying soldier might not be a werewolf, but I'm still not so certain of you. As a Hunter, it's my duty to investigate all the possibilities, so we're going to wait for a few hours and see if you sprout fur and fangs, or stay as you are." Mallach might have argued with the man, but that wasn't going to get him anywhere. The night passed on into early morning without incident. However, as Mallach began to doze off, a low howl issued from the village outside.

A moment later, something heavy slammed against the broad wooden door, then a second time, forcing it inward as a powerful, fur covered form surged into the room, followed by a second. The two werewolves had made their appearance, though no one could say if they were there for Mallach, or the so called Hunter. The two went for the unbound man, hoping to make short work of him. However, faced with the reality that he would not be enough to handle two rampaging werewolves, flung open the door of Mallach's cell and tossed Stormbringer in with him. "Defend yourself, Dirson! Clearly my suspicions of you were in error!" With two seasoned warriors entering the fray, the men took advantage of the close quarters and drove the wolves apart with a blistering display of swordsmanship and skill. The werewolves were soon forced to face the reality that they would have no prey this night, and retreated. Before Mallach could stop him, The Hunter raced off after them, pursuing the wolves into the night. He would not, however, have any luck. He lost their trail as day broke, and was forced to return to the village. Mallach, having no idea who his captor had been, rushed to inform the people what had happened.

Kuerina Darkblaed, however, was not as fortunate as Mallach. A different sort of predator stalked the night on that fell eve, and he had his eyes set on the sly girl. Following her through the night, he waited until she was done spying on the Guardian. Then, as she retreated for the evening, the Mercenary struck. With a single swing of his blade, he caught Kuerina completely off guard, and her head parted from her shoulders. Whatever the Mercenary had hoped to achieve, in death Kuerina was revealed to be nothing more than a human spy.

**Werewolves targeted Mallach for conversion, however because the Hunter targeted Mallach to be detained, he was locked up with reinforcements nearby when the wolves came for him. This renders their attack null, and providing the Hunter vouches for him, Mallach now has solid evidence that he is not, in fact, a werewolf.

The Guardian protected Mhairyn, but found their defense unnecessary. Kuerina Darkblaed has been slain by the Mercenary. The Mortician did not hide Kuerina's role, and upon discovering her body, it was concluded she was a spy of some sort.**

Night phase 1 has ended, you may commence with Day Phase 2**