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SAU 17: The Frosty Dozen 
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Morathi's Best Friend
Morathi's Best Friend
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Joined: Tue Oct 04, 2005 5:06 pm
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Location: Flanders, Belgium
“Ooh, a consensus?” Tarbo’s interest seems immediately piqued, and he walks closer to the group, a cool beverage in his hand. Behind him, you see a bloody Anleth trying to wash the stains from her skin and hair. Interestingly, but unsurprisingly, Tarbo appears scot-free.

“I do somewhat share Sleek’s apprehension,” Mioralynthia interjects pensively. “If he and Raneth truly were both your enemies, couldn’t they simply have added their votes and settle for majority?”

“Ah, but maybe they knew that you know,” Tarbo rebuffs.

Mioralynthia blinked quickly, her gaze set firmly on the tall figure across her. “That doesn’t matter. They’d come out with a majority.”

Tarbo takes a deep breath, and stops with his mouth well open to reply. Finally, he snaps shut. “Well, that puts a crimp in a damn fine plan.”

Mioralynthia glowers at Tarbo, unconvinced that he is as surprised as he leads on, but does not press the issue—currently. She turns her attention back to the group, notes the majority vote on Raneth, and then raises her chin and voice to the bar. “Captain, save your cleaning, we have a new subject for you.”

Clearly torn between the prospect of improved personal hygiene on one hand, and the call of duty on the other, Anleth scrubs a few more idle seconds, resigns to her new look with a sigh, and approaches the group. Streams of dried blood litter her shirt, face and arms, and her legs show uneven spats and trickles of the now sticky, viscous red goo. If you didn’t know any better, and you recall that you don’t, you’d think someone popped a blood-filled balloon over her head.

“What happened to you?” Mioralynthia asks with dignified surprise.

Anleth replies with a silent, sideways ‘he popped the balloon’-glare at Tarbo, who obliviously and noisily sips from his straw. “A new subject, you said?” she addresses the sorceress, and finally casts her eyes ahead again.

“Yes, Raneth has been chosen by his peers. Do be so kind.”

“Actually,” Deroth raised, “I’m kind of curious about Sleek, too. Maybe we should—” He quickly caught Anleth’s evil eye. “—Yeah, I’m thinking one at a time is probably the best way to go.”

“Really?” Gramash asks. “I thought you were just saying—ouch!” He rubs his painful shin and pulls it a bit farther away from Deroth’s foot.

“So, this is how it is, then?” Ran asks, his arms crossed.

“Yesss,” Draknir hisses with impatience. “Enough with the foreplay, let’s get to business!”

“Very well, then,” Raneth says, and stands fully upright. “But please, hear my version of the facts first.” He raises one arm with a good swing, shows his (index) finger, takes a deep breath, and bolts for the window.


Tarbo was the first to react. He put one foot on the wooden coffee table, the other next to Mioralynthia in the couch, and then leapt through the broken window. Others, lacking his sense of drama (or perhaps athleticism) took the easier, not that much slower front door.

But Raneth had a few moments of precious time. He has already clicked himself into his skis and sped off, leaving Tarbo to snatch thin air and, consequently, defeat. He swung on one foot and sprawled backwards onto the decline, staring into the sky.

“Good grace, man! This is no time for snow angels!” Mioralynthia exclaimed. “On the skis and after him!”

Achar, Gyla, Gramash, Deroth, and Sleek got to their skis, clipped themselves in, hastily snatched their ski poles, and darted off after Raneth.

Raneth had already become little more than a coloured line in the distance, leaving a trail in the snow. Gramash made haste, much haste, and bent over as far as he could without either toppling over or touching the ground. He swung elegantly past trees and outcrops, hearing the cold evening wind rush past his ears.

“We’ve got to go faster!” Deroth yelled. “Find a straight path!” He swung to the side, away from the tree-line and down to the rocky outcrops. Go fast enough, and any rock goes like snow. Or maybe the other way around; he didn’t really care. He was out for blood.

“Watch out!” Gyla swerved to the side but couldn’t really dodge Deroth; their skis clipped, and they both toppled over and rolled downhill over the snowy, rocky decline.

Achar landed with bent knees from the jump he made moments before, and cursed when he had to turn a sharp corner and lost much of his speed. He had gained on Raneth, gained much, and stood to lose again. But then, he heard discordant screams... from behind him.

He looked to his side, and had just enough time to utter “What the—?” before a man-sized but two-man snowball pummelled into him, not losing a moment’s speed, and carried him along the steep path down.

“Sleek,” Deroth shouted, rolling at a frantic speed. “Don’t be where we are!”

“I tried!” Sleek yelled from the other side of the giant snowball. “But you guys are like a frigging homing pigeon!”

“How do you steer this thing?!” Gyla had a slower turn and a slightly better view on what was going on. Slightly.

“Just aim away from the trees!”

“Crap!” Achar screamed. “Gramash! Get out of the way!”

Gramash saw the monstrous shadow looming over him, and hastily rowed his poles through the snow. With each glance over his shoulder, the man-snow hybrid gained on him. With each glance, he bent further through his knees, stuck closer to the ground, pounded the snow faster with his poles. The shadow grew over his back, then his shoulders, and then his wide-spurned eyes before it swallowed him whole.

“Sleek, lean left!” Gyla yelled. “I can see Raneth downhill! We’ve got to go left!”

“Deroth, go left! Go left!”

“You’re yelling like I’m piloting this thing!”

“He’s getting away! Get him, get him!”


Screams of panic, fear, and sheer adrenaline piled up as the by now humongous ball of elf and snow curved perfectly onto the ramp and leapt silently (unlike its cargo), majestically into the air, briefly obscuring the rising moon. The wind soared past their ears while they gained and gained height... and then their screams intensified as they plummeted down.


Raneth glided onto the last patches of snow and quickly slid out of his skis. He threw a hasty gaze over his shoulder and saw no-one in the growing darkness. He had gained enough distance on his pursuers to make away in the dusk. He allowed himself a smirk.

Ski classes had definitely paid off.

What was that sudden cold?

Raneth bent through his knees and skipped his eyes about. Had the sorceress beaten him to it? No, she was a poor skier. He frowned, looked down, and noticed a subtle shade around him, somewhat... darker than the surrounding grass. And the loudest, worst-sounding bird in existence.

A gargantuan snowball crashed squarely into the unpainted bullseye. In the blink of an eye, the uneven sphere collapsed into a snowy rubble of dead pine needles, tiny rocks, and five unfortunate skiers. One leg, with ski still attached, hung gracelessly from the heap, while a piece of shawl stuck out from the other end.

It was unremarkably silent again. An owl hooted ceremoniously, oblivious to its surroundings.

“Hey,” Deroth groaned. “You dead?”

“...Yeah,” Achar replied.

“This is so going in my book,” Sleek said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

“Did we get him?” Gyla asked.

“Yeah,” Gramash said. “Yeah, I think we really, really got him.”

It's a Council Victory! Congratulations to the loyalists for finding and rooting out the infiltrators in their midst!

  1. Drainial (innocent)
  2. SleekDD (innocent)
  3. Draknir (innocent)
  4. Deroth (innocent)
  5. gramash (innocent)
  1. gramash
  2. Deroth
  3. Drainial
  4. Raneth
  1. Raneth

  1. sassmaw (innocent) (Day 1, inactivity) -- thoroughly 'investigated'
  2. Zardock (protector) (Day 1, inactivity) -- did not dodge the wrench
  3. Sidorio (infiltrator) (Day 1, voted)
  4. LordAnubis (innocent) (Day 2, voted)
  5. Kefka (protector) (Night 2, eliminated) -- speed kills
  6. Belial (protector) (Day 3, inactivity) -- defying physical laws
  7. Katash (innocent) (Day 3, inactivity) -- currently missing
  8. Raneth (infiltrator) (Day 3, voted) -- cannonsnowballed

Below are the two roles that were in play. Note that the protectors were not team members and couldn't communicate with each other.

Tarbo wrote:
Protector -- Zardock, Kefka, Belial

You are a protector. Each Night, you may nominate one player to protect from the infiltrators' killing abilities. If that player is attacked, he/she survives the attack to fight another day.

You cannot protect yourself.

Yeah, life sucks that way. ;)
Tarbo wrote:
Infiltrator -- Sidorio, Raneth

You are one of the infiltrators. At Night, you may converse with your teammate and discuss tactics, events, and decide on the kill for the Night. Sidorio is the team captain; if no consensus can be reached, he decides the Night's target.

Each Night, you may pick one player to assault. If the target is not protected through other means (e.g. Protect ability), they are removed from the game when Day starts.

Next to the classic kill ability that you have, your team has an additional "opportunity kill" that you can use when nobody was voted off during the Day. This kill behaves exactly like other kills but is called seperately on the kill list --so people know whether the kill was planned or 'opportunity'-based, for whatever good it does them.

Because sloth is a sin.

You win the game when the council no longer has a majority on you.


After-game discussion? Ambulate to the sign-up thread to boast your best stories, sharpest theories, and snarkiest quotes!

SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl

Tue May 25, 2010 9:38 pm
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