Gold Rush Were-Fox: game thread

[MDoranD]

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DADV

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No, not this time MDD. This time it is dead air, dead wolves.

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DADA?

[FCBLComish]

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DADV

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No, not this time MDD. This time it is dead air, dead wolves.

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DADA?

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If A=Angel then no. If A=something else, then maybe

[ESKiMO-SiCKNE5S]

wait isnt fcbl a wolf?

[Siegmund]

IT IS NIGHT. No new votes since the last count. There have been hours and hours for corrections, so I don't expect any of those either.

Down by the river outside town, an unfortunate accident has occurred and WINDY IKE, a.k.a. stephen h, is no longer among the living:


A wedge-faced man there was who ran along the river bank,
Who stumbled through each drift and slough, and ever slipped and sank,
And ever cursed his Maker's name, and ever "hooch" he drank.

He travelled like a hunted thing, hard harried, sore distrest;
The old grandmother moon crept out from her cloud-quilted nest;
The aged mountains mocked at him in their primeval rest.

Grim shadows diapered the snow; the air was strangely mild;
The valley's girth was dumb with mirth, the laughter of the wild;
The still, sardonic laughter of an ogre o'er a child.

The river writhed beneath the ice; it groaned like one in pain,
And yawning chasms opened wide, and closed and yawned again;
And sheets of silver heaved on high until they split in twain.

From out the road-house by the trail they saw a man afar
Make for the narrow river-reach where the swift cross-currents are;
Where, frail and worn, the ice is torn and the angry waters jar.

But they did not see him crash and sink into the icy flow;
They did not see him clinging there, gripped by the undertow,
Clawing with bleeding finger-nails at the jagged ice and snow.

They found a note beside the hole where he had stumbled in:
"Here met his fate by evil luck a man who lived in sin,
And to the one who loves me least I leave this black fox skin."

And strange it is; for, though they searched the river all around,
No trace or sign of black fox skin was ever after found;
Though one man said he saw the tread of <u>hoofs</u> deep in the ground.

------

He or she whom Ike loved least will be receiving an invitation to wolfchat by PM in a few moments. Seers, angels, wolves, do your thing.

[Siegmund]

The nasty winter weather that has already claimed several lives rages on... CLANCY OF THE MOUNTED POLICE, a.k.a. mark_k, has volunteered for a dangerous mission: the Indians reported "a white man, starving and crazy" way upriver, and Clancy set off into the blizzard to save him and bring him into town.
The blizzard gave him a heck of a time:


Said the Wild, "I will crush this Clancy, so fearless and insolent;
For him will I loose my fury, and blind and buffet and beat;
Pile up my snows to stay him; then when his strength is spent,
Leap on him from my ambush and crush him under my feet.

"Him will I ring with my silence, compass him with my cold;
Closer and closer clutch him unto mine icy breast;
Buffet him with my blizzards, deep in my snows enfold,
Claiming his life as my tribute, giving my wolves the rest."

Clancy crawled through the vastness; o'er him the hate of the Wild;
Full on his face fell the blizzard; cheering his huskies he ran;
Fighting, fierce-hearted and tireless, snows that drifted and piled,
With ever and ever behind him singing the crazy man:

"Sing hey, sing ho, for the ice and snow,
And a heart that's ever merry;
Let us trim and square with a lover's care
(For why should a man be sorry?)
A grave deep, deep, with the moon a-peep,
A grave in the frozen mould.
Sing hey, sing ho, for the winds that blow,
And a grave deep down in the ice and snow,
A grave in the land of gold."

Day after day of darkness, the whirl of the seething snows;
Day after day of blindness, the swoop of the stinging blast;
On through a blur of fury the swing of staggering blows;
On through a world of turmoil, empty, inane and vast.

Night with its writhing storm-whirl, night despairingly black;
Night with its hours of terror, numb and endlessly long;
Night with its weary waiting, fighting the shadows back,
And ever the crouching madman singing his crazy song.

Cold with its creeping terror, cold with its sudden clinch;
Cold so utter you wonder if 'twill ever again be warm;
Clancy grinned as he shuddered, "Surely it isn't a cinch
Being wet-nurse to a looney in the teeth of an arctic storm."

The blizzard passed and the dawn broke, knife-edged and crystal clear;
The sky was a blue-domed iceberg, sunshine outlawed away;
Ever by snowslide and ice-rip haunted and hovered the Fear;
Ever the Wild malignant poised and panted to slay.

The lead-dog freezes in harness--cut him out of the team!
The lung of the wheel-dog's bleeding--shoot him and let him lie!
On and on with the others--lash them until they scream!
"Pull for your lives, you devils! On! To halt is to die."

There in the frozen vastness Clancy fought with his foes;
The ache of the stiffened fingers, the cut of the snowshoe thong;
Cheeks black-raw through the hood-flap, eyes that tingled and closed,
And ever to urge and cheer him quavered the madman's song.

Colder it grew and colder, till the last heat left the earth,
And there in the great stark stillness the bale fires glinted and gleamed,
And the Wild all around exulted and shook with a devilish mirth,
And life was far and forgotten, the ghost of a joy once dreamed.

Death! And one who defied it, a man of the Mounted Police;
Fought it there to a standstill long after hope was gone;
Grinned through his bitter anguish, fought without let or cease,
Suffering, straining, striving, stumbling, struggling on.

Till the dogs lay down in their traces, and rose and staggered and fell;
Till the eyes of him dimmed with shadows, and the trail was so hard to see;
Till the Wild howled out triumphant, and the world was a frozen hell--
Then said Constable Clancy: "I guess that it's up to me."

Far down the trail they saw him, and his hands they were blanched like bone;
His face was a blackened horror, from his eyelids the salt rheum ran;
His feet he was lifting strangely, as if they were made of stone,
But safe in his arms and sleeping he carried the crazy man.

So Clancy got into Barracks, and the boys made rather a scene;
And the O. C. called him a hero, and was nice as a man could be;
But Clancy gazed down his trousers at the place where his toes had been,
And then he howled like a husky, and sang in a shaky key:

"When I go back to the old love that's true to the finger-tips,
I'll say: `Here's bushels of gold, love,' and I'll kiss my girl on the lips;
It's yours to have and to hold, love.' It's the proud, proud boy I'll be,
When I go back to the old love that's waited so long for me."

-----

In plain English, mark has lost his angel powers, but survives to see the light of another day as a vanillager.

IT IS DAY FIVE. At 7-4 it's not technically must-lynch yet, but there are still a pair of star-crossed lovers and a brutal wolf in the mix.

[Mark_K]

Well the good news that we didn't lose any vote power. I was really worried that the wolves would not try to NK me so that the village doesn't get the advantage of a missed NK.

The bad news is that Chibana is now likely a wolf.

It is interesting that the wolves stopped seer searching and started Angel killing. I'm sure that I was peeked by the wolves or at least known to not be a seer since 90% of my village list was made up of wolves... (LOL-Argh)

Again, they had to have converted Chibana, else they would not have "wasted" a NK on a Angel.

[Mark_K]

Oh yeah..

vote MDoranD

[ESKiMO-SiCKNE5S]

lol angel down bitches

nice kill wolfs

[Mark_K]

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lol angel down bitches

nice kill wolfs

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I think I need to run this through Babblefish.. The problem is that I don't know what language to pick.

[ESKiMO-SiCKNE5S]

For Clarification:

chibana
fcblcomish
kristiefix
luckayluck
thegoldbug

one of these has been converted.

however: luckay and MDD were already wolfs.

chibana is the most obvious because they would be effectively be killing a seer.