Tol-in-Gaurhoth III (The Saga Continues...)

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

The residents of the village of Storyland awoke feeling slightly odd, but chirpy nevertheless; it was, after all, a beautiful sunny morn.

As they went to and fro however, it became clear that something funny had been going on. Maybe it was just something in the water, but there was, for some reason, much talk about strange visions of Werewolves. Everyone had had one the previous night, apparently. Just a solitary vision, conjured from nowhere, of a terrifying beast, the kind of which had been much told about in the preceding generations of this queer little village.

Being ridiculously superstitious, the villagers got into quite a panic. What did this mean?

They decided to check all the houses in turn. It didn't take long because most of the villagers were already out fretting in the village square. Not all of them though.

"Where's Eomer?" asked someone.

"I expect he's sleeping late, as usual" grumbled another. Eomer of the Rohirrim was not a particularly popular person in this village. Indecent behaviour, that sort of thing....

Anyway, they went to check up on him. At the door there was no answer: the villagers forced their way in. They were confronted with a truly gruesome sight. Eomer had been mangled horrifically. He was barely recognisable, only some observant villagers noted his distinctive hair turned red with blood. Even his books had been cruelly despoiled, so now his philosophic wisdom would never be shared with others.

Who could do such a horrible thing to such a handsome man? wailed the villagers. Superstitions in this case indicated reality: the village now had a werewolf problem.


Living:

Azaelia of Willowbottom
Evisse the Blue
Firefoot
Fordim Hedgethistle
Holbytlass
Kuruharan
mormegil
Oddwen
Shelob
Son of Numenor
the guy who be short
The Only Real Estel
the phantom
The Saucepan Man

Dead:

Eomer of the Rohirrim (Villager) - mangled by werewolves on NIGHT 1

Score:

Werewolves: 3
Villagers: 11

The first DAY has begun now it is 6PM GMT (1PM EST and 12 noon Central). It will end in 24 hours time, or earlier if a majority vote is reached before then.

Villagers, start panicking!

[the guy who be short]

Oh villagers of Storyland, our hamlet takes a blow
Eomer has fallen, unimaginable woe
What can man do against such violent hate?
How can we possibly retaliate?
A blind shot into the dark we must now take
For it is our lives at stake...

[The Saucepan Man]

Darn! He was one of my best customers too!

It seems to me that a pint of Saucepan's Old Potbolier is in order. One of my finest ales, it is. Really puts hairs on yer chest ...

Oops! Bad choice of words.

There now. That'll calm the nerves and help us get our thinking caps on.

Now, who could have done such a terrible thing? Any ideas?

*Stares intently at the phantom and Kuruharan*

[mormegil]

Well sung guy who be short. The best corse of action is to analyse each villager and the werewolf will present him/herself inadvertently based on their responses. Everyone is a suspect currently and we need to hear some defense from indivduals. I would like to hear from two in particular, namely Saucepan Man and Kuruharan. They both live a lifestyle that has made me highly suspect of their character, what with brewing and drinking naught but ale. Now I know that this doesn't imply guilt of murder but we would be wise at looking closely them. And also Kuruharan is new to our village and that casts more doubt on him.

[The Saucepan Man]

Originally Posted by mormegil

... what with brewing and drinking naught but ale.

Since when did this become a valid basis for an accusation of murder? Indeed, my tendency to the bottle inevitably aids me in enjoying a most peaceful night's sleep. Most nights I am incapable of even snuffing out the candle, let alone carrying out a grisly murder.

But what about yourself, friend cleric? Since you are so keen to cast aspersions with not a shred of evidence, perhaps you could explain why we shouldn't be looking to you in this grim matter?

[mormegil]

Originally Posted by The Saucepan Man

Since when did this become a valid basis for an accusation of murder? Indeed, my tendency to the bottle inevitably aids me in enjoying a most peaceful night's sleep. Most nights I am incapable of even snuffing out the candle, let alone carrying out a grisly murder.

Sauepan Man, I am suprised that you didn't read more carefully I said:

They both live a lifestyle that has made me highly suspect of their character, what with brewing and drinking naught but ale. Now I know that this doesn't imply guilt of murder but we would be wise at looking closely them

I was questioning your character not accusing you my friend. Now if you find a nasty character there you will likely find nasty deeds.

But what about yourself, friend cleric? Since you are so keen to cast aspersions with not a shred of evidence, perhaps you could explain why we shouldn't be looking to you in this grim matter

By all means you should be looking at me, as I said we should be looking at all people. As is well known my nightly routine consists of study, prayer and meditation. After which I retire rather early to bed and sleep rather soundly till just before dawn, unless I am woken by your lot making enough noise to raise the dead.

[Kuruharan]

what with brewing and drinking naught but ale.

I do not drink naught but ale. I will also branch out into whiskey and scotch.

Besides, I would think this makes it painfully obvious that I cannot possibly stand up, much less go about killing people much after 10:00 at night.

[The Saucepan Man]

Originally Posted by mormegil

I was questioning your character not accusing you my friend.

Given our current situation, I would say that mentioning anyone's name is tantamount to an accusation (although staring intently is of course, nothing of the sort ). You asked me to explain myself and I did. I would have thought, though, that my friendly nature was well known throughout the village.

Now, preacherman, it seems to me that those early nights provide plenty of scope for grisly night-time activities without leaving you tired. And perhaps its no coincidence that the victim was a free thinker, one whose philosophising might challenge the strict teachings of the church. I see that his books were left in a state such that his thoughts may no longer be shared ...

[the phantom]

Eomer was the first to die?! I'm shocked!

(you can add me as the town crier if you wish, Eomer- as long as you are meaning a law official and not the town moper or weeper)

So, another werewolf attack, eh? I heard that the two villages up the road got taken out by those beasts. There wasn't an army of them though- it was never more than a group of three. But that was enough.

It seems that they did quite a bit of their damage during the day, getting the townspeople to lynch innocents. We must not allow that to happen here.

But how can we avoid it this first day? Without guidance from some sort of seer it is, as short guy (can I call you that?) said, a "shot into the dark".

Seeing as there is no use in logic, we must go with our guts on this day.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take a walk and figure out what my gut is trying to tell me (if anything).

[The Only Real Estel]

I must admit I have no suspicions in particular. I never knew the chap very well, though I can’t say I’ve had much time for chatting lately what with my business as it is and all. He did always greet me when we passed on the street and every once in awhile we’d sit down and have one of Saucey’s brews. That phantom fellow could sometimes make me feel a bit uncomfortable, but I think that might be just because he could make me look like a fool in a battle of wits. So I’m not goin’ and accusing him based on that, just commenting. I can see there’s a problem here that’ll take some attending to, though; so I guess I’ll be having to lay my business aside for awhile or else I’ll be so muddled between the two I’ll need another ale to set me straight.

[Son of Númenor]

I don't reckon Mr. Eomer did much for this town in the way of trade or craft, but I'll surely miss his queer storytellin' and musings. I remember on a time I says to him, as I's finishing up building him a third wall for his shack, I says, "Now Mr. Eomer, now that you've got a third wall, how's about I go ahead and build you a fourth?"

"Why?" he replies, in his usual way.

"Why?" I says back to him. "Why, without proper walls you'll have mildew and ants in no time, as sure as you've got books and candles now."

"A man who sees a wall no matter which way he turns is a man who is trapped," he says. I took this to mean he didn't have the funds to pay me for a fourth wall.

"Why that's just silly," says I. "You'll have a door and a window to leave when you like." He just chuckled, as he was wont do to, and thanked me for my work.

No, I may not have understood that feller most of the time, but he was friendly in his way, and I'll miss him. At any rate he might not have fallen victim to those fell beasts had he taken my advice about that wall.

I've got my suspicions about who offed Mr. Eomer. That Firefoot, for one. Not two weeks ago I was painting one of her stables and installing new hinges on her doors, and I noticed her horses were all on edge, neighing and stomping an unusual fair bit. The Guy Who Be Short, too, seemed jealous of Mr. Eomer's learning, always trying to show him up at town book readings and the like.

[Firefoot]

Ah, poor Eomer. He was a queer sort, but good with the horses, you see.

That Firefoot, for one. Not two weeks ago I was painting one of her stables and installing new hinges on her doors, and I noticed her horses were all on edge, neighing and stomping an unusual fair bit.

They sure were. I couldn't figure it out for the life of me; they've not been like that before or since - until last night, that is. That'd be the werewolves no doubt. It's the oddest thing, don't you think, that they should only be acting up right when you're around, SoN? I tend to go by a rule of thumb that animals have a better judgment of people than people do, so that ought to tell you something.

But then, you never know, with all these strange goings-on there may have been someone else prowling about the stable. Plenty of nooks to hide in, you know, and I can't be everywhere at once.