[The Saucepan Man]

Of the twenty delegates who had arrived in Woodgard some five Days previously, only four remained. It did not take them long to decide that the time had come for Volo to die. Being very hairy and hailing from as far as it gets, he had to be a Wolf, surely.

“Actually,” piped up Volo. “I am a Hunter and I get to choose one of you to die with me.”

“Really?” said The Sixth Wizard, uneasily.

“Yes, really,” insisted Volo.

“Go on then,” said mormegil.

“Er, actually I was lying,” said Volo. “But come on, admit it. I had you fooled, didn’t I?”

But he was met only by the grim faces of mormegil and The Sixth Wizard, as they advanced menacingly towards him. Seeing no other way out, Volo spun and raced off, heading for the woods. The remaining delegates set off in hot pursuit, but Volo was fast and quickly opened up a substantial lead over them.

“Hee hee,” he giggled hysterically, as he dived into the undergrowth. “You can’t catch me … Erk!”

Volo’s head jerked suddenly back as his lengthy beard caught on a jagged branch. Drawing his knife, he raised his hand to free himself, but the prodigious hairs on his arm were snared by yet more thorny outgrowths. Twisting his head round, he found that his shoulder length hair too had become entangled in the undergrowth. Starting to panic, he scrabbled to free himself but, the more struggled, the more he found himself caught up in the dark, twisted shrubbery.

In no time, his pursuers were upon him and, without hesitation, mormegil thrust a spear into his belly. As Volo opened his mouth to cry out, he found himself gurgling and spluttering blood. The Sixth Wizard had circled round behind him and, taking Volo's knife from his trapped hand, had slit his throat with it.

Mormegil waited, anticipating a dreadful transformation to come over Volo. But the hairy delegate from as far as it gets merely slumped forward lifelessly, hopelessly ensnared in the undergrowth. Looking up, mormegil’s heart sank, as he caught sight of The Sixth Wizard grinning evilly at him and licking the blood from Volo’s blade.

“Looks like it’s down to you and me, Gil,” muttered mormegil grimly, turning to his companion.

But Gil-Galad remained silent, rooted to the spot and struck dumb with fear.

“That figures …” said mormegil, just before the enormous Wolf that had been The Sixth Wizard only moments before sprang at him and pinned him to the ground. Mormegil attempted to draw his great black sword, but it was to no avail as the Wolf’s fearsome black fangs ripped great chunks of flesh from him.

“Help!” cried Gil, finally finding his voice. The Wolf turned from his feast and leered at him, blood dripping from his jaws.

In moments, it was all over. Woodgard was deserted once more, save for a lone black Wolf. Throwing his massive head back and baring his cruel black fangs, The Sixth Wizard howled in victory, before bounding off into the woods to wreak havoc on the defenceless Woodsman villages.

*******************************************

“Rats!” muttered Radagast. “Now I suppose it will be written of me that I failed in my mission. Who’d be an Istar, eh?”

Game over!

Thief loses!
Priestess of Sauron loses!
Village loses!
Red Claw Werewolves lose!
Black Fang Werewolves win!