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Pack Wars - KJ's Werewolf

Started by Dog Food, May 12, 2010, 02:34:50 PM

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Dog Food

KJ's Werewolf V.3

PACK WARS
It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, so join the fun and show off your fangs.

Welcome, wolves. You're all from a younger generation, from a time in the middle of a war that you know nothing about. And although you don't know much, what you do know is that you must fight to win. You've been split up into packs and your only job is to eliminate all of the other packs. But watch out, certain packs have advantages over you and you need to be strategic and careful when making your battle plans. This is a war, after all. A werewolf's war.

As you bloody the playing field, you may uncover more of your ancestor's past. Perhaps learning the truth will shine light on your endeavors. Who knows, maybe you'll make friends out of your enemies? Whatever happens, you have a job to do. So get 'er done. Fight teeth and claw. Worry about the consequences later and let your primal instincts take over your once-human body. You're a intercourse ing werewolf, so start acting like one.

Werewolves
1. Magnum
2. SkyMyl
3. Jason
4. JrDude
5. Ray
6. TK
7. Shu
8. Spud
9. So_So
10. Birdie
11. Light
12. RedSox
13. Rob
14. Silver

DAY PHASE IS FOR ALL ABILITIES. NIGHT PHASE IS FOR VOTING.

Current Time: Day 03 --- ends on June 2nd, 2010 at approx. 2 PM EST.

[spoiler=Prologue Part II]"Ramon! No, Ramon!"

A scream pierced through the sky like the steely blade of a knife.

Light flooded the room, where a man with his eyes opened wide lay. Blood slowly formed a puddle around him. His clothes were ripped clean through. A deep gash went into his chest, where the red, gooey substance continued to flow from.

"No, Ramon! H-He can't be dead... You can't be-!"

But he was.

The funeral took place a week later. It was a warm morning where the sun beat down happily on the people below it. Ramon's wife lay with her head down, teardrops falling from her face and occasionally moaning and cursing the good weather. 'Why?' she would wonder to herself. 'Why is it such a nice day?' She didn't understand how the world could keep on turning, how it had been a full week since her husband's murder (and yes, she knew it had to have been murder) and how each day the sun seemed to have shone brighter than the last. 'Will God not give me one day of mourning? Does God refuse to cry for my husband?' She spent her days leading up to the funeral sitting in a rocking chair and staring out of the window, at the distant sun and wondering. Her eldest son would come up to her on some days and tug on her sleeve that was starting to smell of decay and still had some blood splotches on it (she refused to shower or change her clothes until the day of the funeral), and whisper kind words into her ear.

"God does love Daddy, Mama," he would tell her. "You know why the sun is shining so brightly? It's cause God is happy Dad is with him now. Because Dad was such a great person, he's making the weather so nice." But his mother was too far away to hear him. She might have grunted or given a small, distant smile. Her son would turn away each time that happened, hiding his dejection carefully, and slink back into the kitchen where he would fix his other siblings something to eat. But he always kept a small smile on his face. He knew that he was the man of the house now, even though he was only thirteen, and he had to take care of the rest of his family to the best of his abilities. And it was him that rallied his family together to go to the funeral on that fateful morning seven days later, where the sun was at its proudest and the sky couldn't have been bluer.

The dark brown casket lay in the middle of an open field. The sun's rays reflecting off of the smooth casket made it look as if it was glowing with some unknown holy power. Villager after villager would walk up to the casket, place a hand on the waxy, mahogany surface, and whisper kind, sad words. Their faces were all etched with mourning, their lips pursed gravely and their eyes pink and watery.

"You were a good friend, Ramon."
"You were the best father and wife. The best."
"Your stories touched me, man. I quit drinking because of you. You saved my life."

His wife walked up, shaking softly but keeping her head high. Her youngest son led her to the casket. As soon as she reached it, her son's hand slipped out of hers and she crumpled to the ground. She knelt at her husband's casket, crying louder than she had ever cried. People shrunk away, unsure whether to give her space or to reach out to her, and they all became uncomfortable and anxious. She sat there, screaming, bawling, telling her husband to reach out and grab her and never to let go. She reminded him that she loved him, told him that she needed him, questioned every motive he ever had, then forgave him for his mistakes and praised him for every right that he had ever made. Finally, she stopped. But only after the last tear had stained her cheek and touched the ground, making a soft 'plop' that was ever so soft, impossible to hear, and yet everyone in the village would claim that they had heard it. They would all describe the sound in the same way: It was the sound of true sadness breaking through the air.

After the funeral ended, only one person remained. The eldest son sat on the ground, picking at the jaded grass and attempting to make a whistle with the long strands of mother nature's hair. "You promised you'd teach me one day, remember?" the son whispered quietly. His makeshift whistle made no sound, and he threw it onto the ground in frustration. "Who's going to read me a bed time story tonight? You... you always did that, remember? Mom... Mom always insisted I was too old for bed time stories, but you knew. You understood... You knew..." His last words seemed to catch the wind and flow away, as if they were carrying his words up to his father, who rested on one of the white clouds above.

The walk to the casket seemed to take an eternity. Instead of getting closer, he felt as if it was getting farther away. It must have been because of his vision. It was getting increasingly blurry and his eyes burned, but he refused to blink. He wouldn't cry, he promised himself. He would be strong for his family and for his father. When he got to the casket, he didn't look down and image his father laying, pale and stiff, inside, but he looked up at the distant horizon. It was hilly and beautiful and he wished he was a painter because he felt like he had the emotions to create a true work of art - something from the heart. Then he noticed the black blur on one of the hills. The closest hill, some big dog was looking down on him. His eyes were filling with tears and he couldn't see clearly. Finally, he blinked. The tears rolled down his cheek and splattered onto the casket, then slipped off of the waxy surface and dripped onto the soggy ground below. But the figure in the distance was gone.

The son couldn't bare staying there any longer. He closed his eyes and let a couple more tears fall, and then he broke out into a desperate run. He was running towards the hill. He was almost flying. Sometimes he felt as if his feet weren't touching the ground and he closed his eyes and smiled as the sun and wind hit him from every angle. And then he was stumbling up the hill. And then he was on top of the hill.

When he made it to the top, he sat down and panted. He just sat there for a while, doing nothing, thinking of nothing. It was almost peace. He felt as if he was being watched, and he looked up and smiled at his father. His father was up there, dancing in the clouds and smiling back at him, he was sure of it. A noise of something hard hitting the ground with a thud brought the eldest son out of his daydreams. He wheeled around to find a book laying on the ground. Strange, he thought, but he moved over to pick it up and look at it.

'The Truth of the Pack Wars' was engraved in cursive golden letters on the front cover of a heavy, leather book. What was this? Could it possibly be a detailed account of the legendary pack wars that his father had told stories about? Was this a final gift from his deceased dad? The boy looked up, his eyes shining, searching for a possible sign that his father had left this for him. A lone cloud blew across the sky.

Perhaps had Ramon's son looked towards the forest at the other side of the hill he would have seen another clear sign. Had he searched through the darkness he would have seen a pair of glowing eyes looking back at him. He would have seen what his father had seen and heard what his father had heard, and most importantly, he would have been able to foretell of his own impending doom.[/spoiler]
I get obsessively manic over things. It's a problem.

Dog Food

The sun slowly sets in the distance and makes room for the full moon to rise into the sky...

It's Night One. PM me with your votes, if you can. Night One ends around this time on Sunday.
I get obsessively manic over things. It's a problem.

SkyMyl

...I forgot to check this thread.

Well, I suck.

THEBIRD

wait so what happened in the day phase?

Magnum

...

Why is no one saying anything?

Oh Vesperia, never change... never change

Dog Food

Quote from: THEBIRD on May 15, 2010, 08:58:40 PM
wait so what happened in the day phase?
I'm going to disperse that information after the Night Phase. So, now.

[spoiler=The First Passage]Ramon's son first looked at the book on the night of his father's funeral. He sat under the covers of his bed, the flashlight illuminating the space around him. The book sat neatly on his lap. Carefully, and with a slightly excited shake, he turned the first page. The pages were yellowish and crackled when touched, but something about the ominous feeling the book gave him made him want to read it even more. He had never felt such a close connection with his dad. It did not take long for him to delve into the story, and within seconds he was reading the chapter title. He read it over a few times, remembering the dark, bold print and the ancient font. He'd never forgot that title, he told himself. Next came the smaller print below it, and he made sure to go over it all twice and to remember every detail. He decided, then and there, that he would be his father's successor. He would be the next storyteller and liberator of the Pack Wars. It was his destiny, and this book proved it. He read:

Twenty-Four Hours

The light offers my people very little hope. We are humans, but not truly humans. It is disgusting to lead such a lie, a double life such as this. Shameful is another word that comes to mind. Most of us see ourselves solely as wolves, and to not be is something to take offense to. I spend my days writing now. I make use of these thumbs, the only human thing I can appreciate. Otherwise these humans are such petty creatures. It is a disgrace that they walk this earth on top of the food chain. But not for long. And not in this town, either. No, not here. Gladys Village. Named after the settler's wife. But it is run by wolves now, not people. Perhaps it should be renamed... Ah, but what to call such a desolate village? After all, werewolves aren't part of the population. In reality, or in human reality, Gladys Village is unpopulated and most certainly is not on any maps. For humans, to fix is to turn away from. In that case, wouldn't 'forget' make a good simile? I can sum up everything with one simple word: Pathetic. And so that will be my word of the day. Alas, I will put down my pen. Or I will at least close my thoughts. I do have another story to tell, after all. From an objective point of view, I must record the events taking place during our power struggle. This job has been assigned to me, and me alone, so I must do it the best I can. Here, great werewolves of the generations to come, is the story of the Pack Wars...

How it all began, I do not know. But it began quite a few decades ago on this very day. October 30th. It started with one wolf, then turned to two, then three, and soon four. Eventually, the entirety of Gladys Village was wolves. And they lived in unity as one pack, creating a new generation of wolves. And soon a second generation arrived. But it was a little before my generation that a rift in the once mighty pack began. The origins of the war are unclear, but the fight split the Unus Sarcina into four different packs: Puteulanus Lupus, Rutilus Lupus, Niger Lupus, and Viridis Lupus. But not every wolf joined a side. Most of the elders and a few chosen from the new generations formed a final pack: the Quietus Sarcina. It is my job to record our history, as chosen by the elders. And so I will begin to follow the events happening now, and hopefully learn of the beginning along the way. But I shall start with what happened this morning, as the sun rose high into the sky...

A man alone. Long sideburns going down each cheek, forming a short, black beard. Even as a human he looked like a wolverine. He sat at a small two-person table at an empty cafe and wrote in a small notebook. His name was Savon. There were a list of names in his notebook, scrawled down in messy writing that was unintelligible to those who did not know how to look at it. His eyes squinted at the paper and a low growl escaped his lips. After another few moments he banged his hand against the small, metal table.

"Damn this piece of poop!" he roared, hurling the notebook against the brick wall of the cafe. He crossed his arms and slouched in his seat, his eyes darting all around. Eventually he growled again and pushed his chair forcibly away from the table and retrieved the notebook. "I'm no one's gosh darn Labrador," he mumbled along the way. That is all I saw of him as I walked by that morning. But he plays an important part later in the day. Until then, my story goes elsewhere. My destination was the library. And as I entered and shuffled towards the books, I had the courtesy of witnessing another interaction.

Two men sat next to each other, books blocking my view. Although I could not tell who they were, I could hear parts of their conversation. From what I can recall, it went something like this:

"Yeah, I'm almost positive."

"But you can't be sure until tomorrow."

"That's true."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I think I might have to wait it out. If he's part of Rutilus then I'm screwed."

"Join Quietus. Get out of the wars while you can. We can rebuild, become whole again-"

"No, no... We tried that before and it all fell to pieces, remember? Things have to be this way now. Besides, once this is all over and Viridis wins the war, our ideals will be put into place and we can have peace once again."

"...There will never be peace as long as one wolf is unhappy."

"You just can't understand. Trust me. We used to be good friends, remember? Trust me. This is how things need to be."

I didn't get to hear the Quietus member's response, I moved too far away to listen in. I cursed my human ears, longing to be a wolf again. As a wolf, all of my senses seem to heighten. It is like an adrenalin rush. Like I am high on the most wonderful experience one could ever wish to partake in. As a human I feel mortal and broken. I can never be whole until night comes and the wolf inside me takes over once again.

The library had old human books, most untouched. I was searching for a registry of humans who lived in Gladys Village. For such a small town, I knew the records would be detailed and complete, for the most part. Small towns and their foolish pride. Of course I was correct. I found the registry in the documents section behind the counter. Things one would normally find in a Town Hall, Gladys Village thought could be placed in the library instead. I picked up the large, dusty, reddish brown book and skimmed through it. The information stopped two years prior to the wolf infestation. The last census must have been back then. Still, it was recent enough, or so I hoped. I stuck the book into my coat and slipped out of the library, not even glancing at the quarreling individuals from earlier.

It was a few hours later when I saw Savon again. This time he was with another individual named Maile. This second person was small and skinny, but well-liked. Most people thought he was part of Quietus, and although I have sworn secrecy as to who is in our specialized group and who is not, I think it is safe to announce in my own writings that Maile is definitely not in Quietus. For the youngest and most soft-spoken wolf in our village, he has his own ideas and follows them religiously. Savon is smart and he must have realized this piece of information. Whatever he was doing in his notebook, which I'll assume he was organizing data on different wolves, Maile must have come up positive for something. Perhaps it's time to delve a little bit further into the predicament these warring wolves are in before I record Savon's conversation with Maile. Unfortunately, the packs are in a strange situation. Throughout the confusion of war, the members have been lost and no one knows who is who anymore. Currently, we are in a rebuild period. Members of different packs are searching for their fellow pack members. It would be easy, if the process wasn't so secretive. And there is a reason for that, too. It gives each pack an advantage and a disadvantage to not knowing which pack each wolf has devoted themselves to. I don't have time to go into the strategic diplomats of warfare. We'll get there in due time, I'm sure. For now, I have a conversation to record. The good news is that it is clear what Savon and Maile are discussing, the bad news is that, as slow as I walked, I still couldn't capture a lengthy conversation. What I have will have to do the trick for now, and hopefully I can develop more information later. Without further ado, Savon and Maile:

"How did you know, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I've got my sources. A notebook, a brain, good observational skills."

"It's just you and me?"

"You and me. For now."

"What if no one else is part of-"

"Don't worry, I have sources that tell me we still got two more wolves to find."

"But what if they're part of... you know..."

"My sources are reliable. So no more worries. Right now you should just be glad you aren't in this alone anymore."

And then I was gone. My "house", or the place I go before my transformation, was next on my list. Just another dilapidated building with a scratched up bed I sit on as the moon begins to rise. I put the book away in a three-legged desk and laid on my bed. It was almost three, which meant I could probably get five hours of sleep before the painful process began. I ended up only getting three and a half.

I don't like discussing the transformation process. It's hard to remember anyway. Pain, hot flashes, bright white lights... And when I wake up again, I'm no longer human. Everything changes. And I love every second of it. As a wolf, the stalking part is harder. Everyone else is now wolves, too, and as wolves they are more secretive and less trusting. You can't walk by another wolf without expecting trouble, and so you have to be stealthy. But for fear that this book gets ransacked and read, I will not record my stalking processes. For someone to figure me out would create more difficulties than anything else. I will record the data that I received from last night's roundabout.

Here's how the rebuilding process of the war works: The Great Elder of Quietus has allowed no intervening from our part as long as there was some chivalry in the war. For starters, as long as the packs weren't reunited, they had to ask The Great Elder about their choice kill. If someone is found dead without The Great Elder's approval, that wolf won't be around for long enough to express their guilt, or lack thereof. And the day must be a time of peace. As humans, the Pack Wars do not exist. Although this rule is commonly broken and used as a time to scout for pack members, no one has ever been hurt or attacked which is why The Great Elder allows the rest. And although The Great Elder demands order, we all know this is a false sense of security, and none of us are really sure whether we could stop it if the war gets out of control.

The Great Elder has also asked me to change the names when recording the votes, for security sake. The only people that need to know the true names are from Quietus, and if this book got into the wrong hands then there could be some issues. Regardless, this is the record of wolves that are currently wanted dead (if a wolf's name came up more than once to The Great Elder, it is still only expressed once in my list):

JrDude
Magnum
Shu
So_So


A second note: Some wolves attempted to talk to The Great Elder even though their scheduled appointment was on even nights only. I have omitted their votes from the list. Invalid votes, or otherwise votes for someone in the same pack, are still shown. Unfortunately, even we do not know who is in what pack, and so we can not verify whether or not the vote is correct. The Great Elder may know, but if so, he will not divulge the information to anyone.

But that is all I have to discuss at the moment. I will produce another detailed account of the Pack Wars for the next twenty four hours when I have accumulated the results. Until then, this passage is over.

- Delano[/spoiler]

The only thing you need to know is in bold. Just skim down to the bottom.

And it's Day #2. This Day Phase will end on Monday at about the same time as this post.
I get obsessively manic over things. It's a problem.

Magnum

So, it seems that I have some votes held against me.

Why me, I'm a nice guy?

Oh Vesperia, never change... never change

JrDude

I'm not in a reading mood...

"The only thing you need to know is in bold."

I see my name, it is in bold, am I dead or what's so important about those names?
[move][/move]
Dude .

Dog Food

Quote from: JrDude ჱܓ on May 17, 2010, 02:06:01 PM
I'm not in a reading mood...

"The only thing you need to know is in bold."

I see my name, it is in bold, am I dead or what's so important about those names?
Those are the names that were voted for. And as a side note, I only listed each name once. So it is possible that you were voted for more than once. Either way, no one died because a majority was not reached.
I get obsessively manic over things. It's a problem.

Dog Food

Oh right, forgot I was making Day phases only 24 hours now... Anyway, it's Night 02 now. An even day, so let's see some even votes.

This phase will end on Thursday at around this time.
I get obsessively manic over things. It's a problem.

THEBIRD

what if i want to give away personal info publicly. do i get disqualified for doing that kind of stuff?

Dog Food

Quote from: THEBIRD on May 19, 2010, 10:07:54 AM
what if i want to give away personal info publicly. do i get disqualified for doing that kind of stuff?
Nope. You can say whatever you want in this thread. Others are just going to have to figure out for themselves if you are possibly lying or whatever. No quoting actual PM's, since that can be faked very easily.
I get obsessively manic over things. It's a problem.

JrDude

I am the original werewolf, kill me and the game ends because after the original werewolf is killed, all the other werewolves are cured of their werewolfiness. You have been warned.
[move][/move]
Dude .

Rayquarian

Quote from: JrDude ჱܓ on May 19, 2010, 03:09:32 PM
I am the original werewolf, kill me and the game ends because after the original werewolf is killed, all the other werewolves are cured of their werewolfiness. You have been warned.
That sounds like a reason to kill you, unless it kills all of us too.  If you die and we become normal again, won't everyone win except you.

So_So_Man

Quote from: Rayquarian on May 19, 2010, 05:55:27 PM
That sounds like a reason to kill you, unless it kills all of us too.  If you die and we become normal again, won't everyone win except you.
we should test this.  Everyone vote for JrDude