WWJ X: Hithlum Zydeco Blues; Hísilómë in Hísimë - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Formendacil · 07-01-2006, 01:57 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Nogrod

I know, but I believe Glirdan innocent too...

Yes, the question of acting or omitting, the curse of those who vote late...

Psst....

You can retract your vote!

Nogrod · 07-01-2006, 01:59 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Formendacil

Psst....

You can retract your vote!

I think it's being more up to those who have voted either of you two...

Formendacil · 07-01-2006, 01:59 PM

The Last Words of Formendacil:

Morm is Innocent.

Mithalwen · 07-01-2006, 02:00 PM

--
Nogtrod

++Glirdan

Valesse · 07-01-2006, 02:01 PM

Everyone stop posting, the day is done.
The story will be up in a few.

** It should be noted that Mithalwen and I cross posted/post-editted (I'm a slow typist), so her vote change will be included in the proceedings of the day.

Mithalwen · 07-01-2006, 02:04 PM

sORRY EVERYONE I MEANT TO POST NEW NOT EDIT TO CHANGE MY VOTE ...PANNICKED IN ERROR

Mithalwen · 07-01-2006, 02:05 PM

or RATEHR ERRED IN PANIC...BUT GUESS TOO LATE EEK...

Valesse · 07-01-2006, 02:58 PM

Greaving over the loss of a talented Spoonist and his accompaning accordion player, the campers were not statisfied by mearly disposing of the bodies and playing Taps (Which was already quite a feat for Kitanna, the didgeridoo playing hermit.) and openly discussed their personal feelings of that day. Not any more but a few words into his rant Formendacil started stirring up his fellow campers albeit not entirely on purpose, but only to rally his point.

"As useful as theme music to the hempin' jig, if ye ask me" growlled Dread Pirate Formendacil.
Astonished, Glidan jumped in "How could you even form those words together?!" before he could say anymore, distraught with the brashness of it all, he sat back down holding his head.
"I'm sure we can figure out who did this... logically," chimed in Mormegil, while striking his triangle joyfully, "It'll take more than poetic lynching referances, though."
"A vote, then?" Roa_Aoife mused, eyeing the crowd miserably struming her double necked electric guitar.

The other campers agreed and then went about questioning just what would determine the wolves and what kind of behavior could they expect to... expect when Mormegil snapped his fingers "What if I were to uncloak... the wolves would be--"

"NO!" cried the crowd. "It's bad enough when cannon characters do it," grumbled Kitanna who had been busying herself trying to open a can of beans.

"I can't stand this anymore... it doesn't set well with me..." Glirdan stood and pointed at Formendacil. "You must be the wolf! Music goes with everything, even the first day of a particuarlly involved hempin' jig! You're the wolf"
"Am not." retorted Formendacil.

Eomer stood and raised his hands in the air, asking for silence. "How about we write down one name each.. and put it in this drinking stein.. Whoever's name shows up the most is obviously the most suspicious and therefore the wolf. Sound fair?"
The campers shruged, nodded, and went about finding the camp leader's music sheets... as they did not want to ruin their own. Once each person dropped their paper into the stein, Kuruharan read them out loud.

"A tie?" Valier whispered, "Now what?"
"I suppose we lynch them both..." studdered JennyHallu.

Instantly the campers started hooting and hollering-- though it should be noted that there was a definite beat there-in the chaos-- Macalaure grabbed both men by the arms and pulled them to Formendacil's pipe organ.

"String them up!" shouted JennyHallu waving her wind harp in the air.
"Wait!" Mithalwen grabbed the stein, and pulled out the last piece of paper. "It was stuck to the bottom! You really ought to have washed this first, Eomer..."
All eyes were on her, breathlessly waiting (in particular, Glirdan and Formendacil, as muscians are not known to be very gifted in the art of hanging people) "...Well... What does it say?" asked Valier at last.
"Glirdan."

Struggling for his life, Glirdan called out to his fellow musicians for mercy. "You have the wrong chair! Heavens! You have the wrong SECTION!" He broke free and rushed for his tent, hoping to at least get his sheet music before escaping the camp site, but in his haste tripped and impailled himself on a music stand. In the awkward moments that followed, the camp members stared at the musicians corpse. "I guess it wasn't Glirdan" Mithalwen stammered. A little late, but then again, violas normally are.

The Living:
Roa_Aoife- trick pilot, double-necked electric guitar.
Valier- town pickler, piccolo.
Macalaure- unskilled inventor of of funny fake occupation ideas, on the verge of bankruptcy, tuba
Mithalwen- cat-herder, viola
JennyHallu- street corner doom-sayer, Aeolian wind harp
Nogrod- idle fantasist, tin whistle
Mormegil- non-practicing wizard, triangle
Formendacil- pirate, pipe organ
Eomer of the Rohirrim- publican, double-bass
Kitanna- hermit, didgeridoo
Glirdan- town musician, sax
Kuruharan- condottieri, flute

The Dead:
Valesse- Master Accordionist (Mod) stabbed with A Sharp key.
Gil-Galad- Artisan spoon player (Mod) choked on his musical spoons.
Glirdan- town musician, sax (Ordo) impailed on his music stand.
_________________
Night One has begun:
Wolves, Seer... Do your business.
Ordos: Its sleepy time.

Valesse · 07-02-2006, 01:58 PM

The night seemed much longer, and not nearly as restful as the one before, now with everyone's minds on the werewolves and Glirdan's death. Slowly, however, sleep overcame each of the camp members, and before they knew it, the dim sun was shining as brightly as it could through the many layers of frigid fog.

Quietly the campers emerged from their tents, hesitant to see what the night had left them. It wasn't until breakfast was served that they had reliezed Formendacil was not leaving his abode. "You don't think..." Nogrod started.
With a frown Valier said "We should check, at least."

His tent was in shambles... barely able to hold itself up. Inside it was as disorganized as one might expect the housing of a pirate should be with the minor exception of the pipe organ which was obviously obsessively cleaned by it's owner who had found his short drop and sudden stop on it's piping.

"A yardarm." Kuruharan gasped. "How...befitting for a pirate."
JennyHallu crossed her arms "We... should get him down from there."

Most of the campers had completely forgotten about breakfast, least it seemed a far less important part of their lives now to eat than it was to bury Dread Pirate Formendacil. Mithalwen gave a short speech, mostly attributed to what little she knew of him. Has humbly as she could she uttered "The organ is the instrument of worship for in its sounding we sense the Majesty of God and in its ending we know the Grace of God." with a bowed head.

Macalaure furrowed his brows and sniffed loudly. "If only there -were- theme music to the hemp'n jig, at least we would have heard it..."
"Everyone... come look at this!" Mormegil called, he had been in the back of the crowd around the grave, and noticed a magizine which had been flung out of Formendacil's tent. "it's from Seer's Roebuck..."
"That means... Formendacil was a..." gulped Eomer.
"Formendacil was a seer." cried Roa_Aoife.

The Living:
Roa_Aoife- trick pilot, double-necked electric guitar.
Valier- town pickler, piccolo.
Macalaure- unskilled inventor of of funny fake occupation ideas, on the verge of bankruptcy, Tuba
Mithalwen- cat-herder, viola
JennyHallu- street corner doom-sayer, Aeolian wind harp
Nogrod- idle fantasist, tin whistle
Mormegil- non-practicing wizard, triangle
Formendacil- pirate, pipe organ
Eomer of the Rohirrim- publican, double-bass
Kitanna- hermit, didgeridoo
Glirdan- town musician, sax
Kuruharan- condottieri, flute

The Dead:
Valesse- Master Accordionist (Mod) stabbed with A Sharp key.
Gil-Galad- Artisan spoon player (Mod) choked on his musical spoons.
Glirdan- town musician, sax (Ordo) impailled on his music stand.
Formendacil- pirate, pipe organ (Seer) hung on a pipe organ yardarm.

______________
Day Two begins:
Have at it, y'all

07-01-2006, 01:59 PM	#3
Formendacil Dead Serious Join Date: Jan 2005 Location: Perched on Thangorodrim's towers. Posts: 3,328	The Last Words of Formendacil: Morm is Innocent. __________________ I prefer history, true or feigned.

07-01-2006, 02:00 PM	#4
Mithalwen Pilgrim Soul Join Date: May 2004 Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle... Posts: 9,463	-- Nogtrod ++Glirdan __________________ “But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.” Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace Last edited by Mithalwen; 07-01-2006 at 02:02 PM. Reason: clear line for vote

07-01-2006, 02:01 PM	#5
Valesse Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: \|Away Posts: 614	Everyone stop posting, the day is done. The story will be up in a few. It should be noted that Mithalwen** and I cross posted/post-editted (I'm a slow typist), so her vote change will be included in the proceedings of the day. __________________ "Loo, what sholde a man in thyse dayes now wryte, 'egges' or 'eyren'?" - Caxton, Eneydos Last edited by Valesse; 07-01-2006 at 02:11 PM.

07-01-2006, 02:04 PM	#6
Mithalwen Pilgrim Soul Join Date: May 2004 Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle... Posts: 9,463	sORRY EVERYONE I MEANT TO POST NEW NOT EDIT TO CHANGE MY VOTE ...PANNICKED IN ERROR __________________ “But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.” Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace

07-01-2006, 02:05 PM	#7
Mithalwen Pilgrim Soul Join Date: May 2004 Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle... Posts: 9,463	or RATEHR ERRED IN PANIC...BUT GUESS TOO LATE EEK... __________________ “But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.” Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace

07-01-2006, 02:58 PM	#8
Valesse Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: \|Away Posts: 614	Greaving over the loss of a talented Spoonist and his accompaning accordion player, the campers were not statisfied by mearly disposing of the bodies and playing Taps (Which was already quite a feat for Kitanna, the didgeridoo playing hermit.) and openly discussed their personal feelings of that day. Not any more but a few words into his rant Formendacil started stirring up his fellow campers albeit not entirely on purpose, but only to rally his point. "As useful as theme music to the hempin' jig, if ye ask me" growlled Dread Pirate Formendacil. Astonished, Glidan jumped in "How could you even form those words together?!" before he could say anymore, distraught with the brashness of it all, he sat back down holding his head. "I'm sure we can figure out who did this... logically," chimed in Mormegil, while striking his triangle joyfully, "It'll take more than poetic lynching referances, though." "A vote, then?" Roa_Aoife mused, eyeing the crowd miserably struming her double necked electric guitar. The other campers agreed and then went about questioning just what would determine the wolves and what kind of behavior could they expect to... expect when Mormegil snapped his fingers "What if I were to uncloak... the wolves would be--" "NO!" cried the crowd. "It's bad enough when cannon characters do it," grumbled Kitanna who had been busying herself trying to open a can of beans. "I can't stand this anymore... it doesn't set well with me..." Glirdan stood and pointed at Formendacil. "You must be the wolf! Music goes with everything, even the first day of a particuarlly involved hempin' jig! You're the wolf" "Am not." retorted Formendacil. Eomer stood and raised his hands in the air, asking for silence. "How about we write down one name each.. and put it in this drinking stein.. Whoever's name shows up the most is obviously the most suspicious and therefore the wolf. Sound fair?" The campers shruged, nodded, and went about finding the camp leader's music sheets... as they did not want to ruin their own. Once each person dropped their paper into the stein, Kuruharan read them out loud. "A tie?" Valier whispered, "Now what?" "I suppose we lynch them both..." studdered JennyHallu. Instantly the campers started hooting and hollering-- though it should be noted that there was a definite beat there-in the chaos-- Macalaure grabbed both men by the arms and pulled them to Formendacil's pipe organ. "String them up!" shouted JennyHallu waving her wind harp in the air. "Wait!" Mithalwen grabbed the stein, and pulled out the last piece of paper. "It was stuck to the bottom! You really ought to have washed this first, Eomer..." All eyes were on her, breathlessly waiting (in particular, Glirdan and Formendacil, as muscians are not known to be very gifted in the art of hanging people) "...Well... What does it say?" asked Valier at last. "Glirdan." Struggling for his life, Glirdan called out to his fellow musicians for mercy. "You have the wrong chair! Heavens! You have the wrong SECTION!" He broke free and rushed for his tent, hoping to at least get his sheet music before escaping the camp site, but in his haste tripped and impailled himself on a music stand. In the awkward moments that followed, the camp members stared at the musicians corpse. "I guess it wasn't Glirdan" Mithalwen stammered. A little late, but then again, violas normally are. The Living: Roa_Aoife- trick pilot, double-necked electric guitar. Valier- town pickler, piccolo. Macalaure- unskilled inventor of of funny fake occupation ideas, on the verge of bankruptcy, tuba Mithalwen- cat-herder, viola JennyHallu- street corner doom-sayer, Aeolian wind harp Nogrod- idle fantasist, tin whistle Mormegil- non-practicing wizard, triangle Formendacil- pirate, pipe organ Eomer of the Rohirrim- publican, double-bass Kitanna- hermit, didgeridoo Glirdan- town musician, sax Kuruharan- condottieri, flute The Dead: Valesse- Master Accordionist (Mod) stabbed with A Sharp key. Gil-Galad- Artisan spoon player (Mod) choked on his musical spoons. Glirdan- town musician, sax (Ordo) impailed on his music stand. _________________ Night One has begun: Wolves, Seer... Do your business. Ordos: Its sleepy time. __________________ "Loo, what sholde a man in thyse dayes now wryte, 'egges' or 'eyren'?" - Caxton, Eneydos Last edited by Valesse; 07-01-2006 at 03:05 PM. Reason: spelling.

07-02-2006, 01:58 PM	#9
Valesse Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: \|Away Posts: 614	The night seemed much longer, and not nearly as restful as the one before, now with everyone's minds on the werewolves and Glirdan's death. Slowly, however, sleep overcame each of the camp members, and before they knew it, the dim sun was shining as brightly as it could through the many layers of frigid fog. Quietly the campers emerged from their tents, hesitant to see what the night had left them. It wasn't until breakfast was served that they had reliezed Formendacil was not leaving his abode. "You don't think..." Nogrod started. With a frown Valier said "We should check, at least." His tent was in shambles... barely able to hold itself up. Inside it was as disorganized as one might expect the housing of a pirate should be with the minor exception of the pipe organ which was obviously obsessively cleaned by it's owner who had found his short drop and sudden stop on it's piping. "A yardarm." Kuruharan gasped. "How...befitting for a pirate." JennyHallu crossed her arms "We... should get him down from there." Most of the campers had completely forgotten about breakfast, least it seemed a far less important part of their lives now to eat than it was to bury Dread Pirate Formendacil. Mithalwen gave a short speech, mostly attributed to what little she knew of him. Has humbly as she could she uttered "The organ is the instrument of worship for in its sounding we sense the Majesty of God and in its ending we know the Grace of God." with a bowed head. Macalaure furrowed his brows and sniffed loudly. "If only there -were- theme music to the hemp'n jig, at least we would have heard it..." "Everyone... come look at this!" Mormegil called, he had been in the back of the crowd around the grave, and noticed a magizine which had been flung out of Formendacil's tent. "it's from Seer's Roebuck..." "That means... Formendacil was a..." gulped Eomer. "Formendacil was a seer." cried Roa_Aoife. The Living: Roa_Aoife- trick pilot, double-necked electric guitar. Valier- town pickler, piccolo. Macalaure- unskilled inventor of of funny fake occupation ideas, on the verge of bankruptcy, Tuba Mithalwen- cat-herder, viola JennyHallu- street corner doom-sayer, Aeolian wind harp Nogrod- idle fantasist, tin whistle Mormegil- non-practicing wizard, triangle Formendacil- pirate, pipe organ Eomer of the Rohirrim- publican, double-bass Kitanna- hermit, didgeridoo Glirdan- town musician, sax Kuruharan- condottieri, flute The Dead: Valesse- Master Accordionist (Mod) stabbed with A Sharp key. Gil-Galad- Artisan spoon player (Mod) choked on his musical spoons. Glirdan- town musician, sax (Ordo) impailled on his music stand. Formendacil- pirate, pipe organ (Seer) hung on a pipe organ yardarm. ______________ Day Two begins: Have at it, y'all __________________ "Loo, what sholde a man in thyse dayes now wryte, 'egges' or 'eyren'?" - Caxton, Eneydos

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