The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Tol-in-Gaurhoth XLIX

Macalaure · 08-27-2008, 06:52 AM

Long and toilsome was this stage of the adventurers journey, and long and toilsome was a sheerly endless debate between Nogrod and Durelin. Almost all the expedition was involved in it, but they were not able to come to a conclusion, and did not know which of them to lynch, or both, or none.

We are at an impasse. Durelin concluded.

I'm afraid so, Nogrod answered, there is now only one way left to settle this - a duel. But how could that be arranged? You are an archaeologist, used only to hard field work, while I am a philosopher confined to the study. I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains.

You think you're that smart? Durelin remarked doubtfully.

Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?

Yes.

Morons.

Really? In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits.

To the death? I accept.

Durelin already seemed to have something in mind: Good. Let us pour the some wine then. What I have here is called poison hemlock. An appropriate way for a philosopher to die by, isn't it?

Indeed, Nogrod agreed, but whether it will come that way shall be seen.

Please turn your head for a moment. Durelin asked and Nogrod did so. Durelin then poured the poison into the wine. All right: where is the hemlock? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right - and who is dead.

But it's so simple. Nogrod laughed. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you. Are you the sort of woman who would put the poison into her own goblet, or her enemy's?

Nogrod studied Durelin now.

Now, a clever woman would put the poison into her own goblet, because she would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.

You've made your decision then?

Not remotely. Nogrod declined. Because hemlock comes from the East, as everyone knows. And the East is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.

Truly, you have a dizzying intellect. Durelin approved.

...but you must have suspected I would have known the hemlock's origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me. And I'm sure you're a wolf, so you must have killed Nilpaurion, which means you're exceptionally strong. So, you could have put the poison in your own goblet, trusting on your strength to save you. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But, you've also bested Mith and Lalaith which means you must have studied. And in studying, you must have learned that man is mortal so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.

You're trying to trick me into giving away something - it won't work. Durelin said.

It has worked - you've given everything away - I know where the poison is. Nogrod replied triumphantly.

Then make your choice!

I will. And I choose... suddenly he stopped, and pointed at something behind Durelin ...what in the world can that be?

Durelin turned around. What? Where? I don't see anything. Quickly Nogrod switched the goblets while Durelin had her head turned.

Oh, well, I-I could have sworn I saw something. No matter. Let's drink - me from my glass, and you from yours.

Nogrod picked up his goblet and Durelin picked up the one in front of him. As they both started to drink, Nogrod hesitated a moment. He allowed Durelin to drink first, and then he swallowed his wine.

You guessed wrong. Durelin said. Nogrod roared with laughter. You only think I guessed wrong! I switched glasses when your back was turned. You fool. You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. "Never go in against a philosopher when death is on the line."

Nogrod laughed.. and roared.. and cackled..

..and fell over dead.

The company was speechless. At last, Nerwen spoke up: To think - all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.

Both cups were poisoned, Durelin said, I spent the last few years building up an immunity to poison hemlock.

Ah...

Then Durelin made herself ready for the night, ignoring the raised eyebrows around her. Nogrod, on the other hand, looked no less ordinary as before - just less alive.

*~*

Dead:
Macalaure and Rikae (mods) - killed by wolves and turned into faulty quenya in Night One
Kitanna (ordo) - lynched by a pointless mob on Day One
Lalaith (ordo) - severed from her chalk, and her head, in Night Two
Groin Redbeard (ordo) - died from exhaustion on Day Two
Gwathagor - (seer) turned into a talking corpse on Day Two
Mithalwen - (cobbler) made into a diverse set of items in Night Three
Feanor of the Peredhil - (ordo) visionary whose body was turned into abstract art on Day Three
Formendacil - (cobbler) killed by assassin in Night Four
Nilpaurion Felagund - (ordo) choked on his own tale in Night Four
Nogrod - (ordo) died in a battle of wits on Day Four

Alive:
Shastanis Althreduin - loner roane
Eönwë - seller of pointless fakes
Nerwen - treasure-seeker
Kath - unemployed bum
Durelin - eccentric, misanthropic archaeologist
Brinniel - junk collector
A Little Green - blind astronomer who sells stars at the stock exchange
the phantom - obtainer of rare antiquities
Thinlómien - marine zoologist

Night Five. You know what to do by now.

08-27-2008, 06:52 AM	#12
Macalaure Fading Fëanorion Join Date: Mar 2006 Location: into the flood again Posts: 2,911	Long and toilsome was this stage of the adventurers journey, and long and toilsome was a sheerly endless debate between Nogrod and Durelin. Almost all the expedition was involved in it, but they were not able to come to a conclusion, and did not know which of them to lynch, or both, or none. We are at an impasse. Durelin concluded. I'm afraid so, Nogrod answered, there is now only one way left to settle this - a duel. But how could that be arranged? You are an archaeologist, used only to hard field work, while I am a philosopher confined to the study. I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains. You think you're that smart? Durelin remarked doubtfully. Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates? Yes. Morons. Really? In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits. To the death? I accept. Durelin already seemed to have something in mind: Good. Let us pour the some wine then. What I have here is called poison hemlock. An appropriate way for a philosopher to die by, isn't it? Indeed, Nogrod agreed, but whether it will come that way shall be seen. Please turn your head for a moment. Durelin asked and Nogrod did so. Durelin then poured the poison into the wine. All right: where is the hemlock? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right - and who is dead. But it's so simple. Nogrod laughed. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you. Are you the sort of woman who would put the poison into her own goblet, or her enemy's? Nogrod studied Durelin now. Now, a clever woman would put the poison into her own goblet, because she would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me. You've made your decision then? Not remotely. Nogrod declined. Because hemlock comes from the East, as everyone knows. And the East is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. Truly, you have a dizzying intellect. Durelin approved. ...but you must have suspected I would have known the hemlock's origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me. And I'm sure you're a wolf, so you must have killed Nilpaurion, which means you're exceptionally strong. So, you could have put the poison in your own goblet, trusting on your strength to save you. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But, you've also bested Mith and Lalaith which means you must have studied. And in studying, you must have learned that man is mortal so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me. You're trying to trick me into giving away something - it won't work. Durelin said. It has worked - you've given everything away - I know where the poison is. Nogrod replied triumphantly. Then make your choice! I will. And I choose... suddenly he stopped, and pointed at something behind Durelin ...what in the world can that be? Durelin turned around. What? Where? I don't see anything. Quickly Nogrod switched the goblets while Durelin had her head turned. Oh, well, I-I could have sworn I saw something. No matter. Let's drink - me from my glass, and you from yours. Nogrod picked up his goblet and Durelin picked up the one in front of him. As they both started to drink, Nogrod hesitated a moment. He allowed Durelin to drink first, and then he swallowed his wine. You guessed wrong. Durelin said. Nogrod roared with laughter. You only think I guessed wrong! I switched glasses when your back was turned. You fool. You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. "Never go in against a philosopher when death is on the line." Nogrod laughed.. and roared.. and cackled.. ..and fell over dead. The company was speechless. At last, Nerwen spoke up: To think - all that time it was your cup that was poisoned. Both cups were poisoned, Durelin said, I spent the last few years building up an immunity to poison hemlock. Ah... Then Durelin made herself ready for the night, ignoring the raised eyebrows around her. Nogrod, on the other hand, looked no less ordinary as before - just less alive. ~ Dead: Macalaure and Rikae (mods) - killed by wolves and turned into faulty quenya in Night One Kitanna (ordo) - lynched by a pointless mob on Day One Lalaith (ordo) - severed from her chalk, and her head, in Night Two Groin Redbeard (ordo) - died from exhaustion on Day Two Gwathagor - (seer) turned into a talking corpse on Day Two Mithalwen - (cobbler) made into a diverse set of items in Night Three Feanor of the Peredhil - (ordo) visionary whose body was turned into abstract art on Day Three Formendacil - (cobbler) killed by assassin in Night Four Nilpaurion Felagund - (ordo) choked on his own tale in Night Four Nogrod - (ordo) died in a battle of wits on Day Four Alive: Shastanis Althreduin - loner roane Eönwë - seller of pointless fakes Nerwen - treasure-seeker Kath - unemployed bum Durelin - eccentric, misanthropic archaeologist Brinniel - junk collector A Little Green - blind astronomer who sells stars at the stock exchange the phantom - obtainer of rare antiquities Thinlómien - marine zoologist Night Five. You know what to do by now.