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Old 12-19-2006, 04:02 PM   #39
Nogrod
Flame of the Ainulindalė
 
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Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Wearing rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves in a field behaving as the wind behaves
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Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Rikae
Now, Farael, the dance has just begun. By tomorrow afternoon we may have something to go on, and I'd rather lynch a suspected wolf than somebody who happens to have few posts on day one.
I quess we all would? I don't believe anyone in their senses would argue against that.

But due to timezones certain things need to be brought afore sometimes early on. I'm most puzzled to realise I find myself defending Farael here - and will promise to watch him closely just because of the fact that I seem to agree with him somewhat wholeheartedly by now...

I would just like to remind us of the following:
When we start actually thinking about those who should be left without a chair in the end of the Dance, we rarely find the guts to vote for those who just haven't appeared on the floor a lot as it feels so bad to vote someone out because of that and possibly be wrong! So we tend to try and find even the slightest of reason to vote for someone of whom we think we know something... e.g. those who stand in the open. That way we leave some people in to the shadows where they have decided to reside. That is the perfect place for a villain. And I think you all know how often the first lynch is a goodwilling and active villager...

The logic of truth is easy, the logic of lies built upon lies is very tricky indeed and at best impossible (some of my ancestors have noted this). The loud wolves are caught sooner or later but the silent and careful ones will be a thorn in our side which will become more and more painful after each Dance.
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Upon the hearth the fire is red
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet...
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