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One-Hundred-Sixty-First Votecount

AKA, the "Had to track down the L-2 image" votecount.

Human Destroyer - 3 (Nachomamma8, ffullisade, penguin_alien)

With alive, it is to lynch.

Day Six's deadline is Monday, September 16th, @ 12:30 PM PST, which is in (expired on 2013-09-16 12:30:00).

One-Hundred-Sixty-Second Votecount

AKA, the "Was not expecting that" votecount.

With alive, it was to lynch.

Day Six's deadline was Monday, September 16th, @ 12:30 PM PST, which was in (expired on 2013-09-16 12:30:00).

<<< Hector Darius Truman has always been a bit of a...complicated...individual. Nicknamed , he had always been an enigma, in particular, when he gained a personality named and yet, despite modifying his nickname to , responded only to the names Skull and Peter, despite neither being related to his birth name.

And that extra personality eventually disappeared, leaving Hector alone, and insisting on his nickname once more.

For a very large amount of time, he had largely flown under the radar. He had contributed plenty, yet despite this bountiful contribution to the community, nobody really took notice of him. Until recently, that is, when this very lack of attention itself began to become suspicious. He might have helped get rid of mafia, but people insist that he was never among the stronger pushers.

He continues to insist, however, that he HAD been among their best, but to no avail. "You were useless when we needed you to get that zany demon."

"Yeah, and after his death, you stopped actively giving your thoughts as often!"

"Short little bursts of insight, and then, nothing, for hours. Just silence."

"Your efforts helped to sabotage our attempts to lynch Seanald!"

"And when we finally did, you didn't even help!"

"I nearly died once before. I've paid my dues!"

"But you survived! And on that day, we took out CrashTextDummie--again, without your help!"

"You insisted that ThAdmiral was mafia, too, trying to end his life."

"You've been against us this whole time!"

The harder Human Destroyer fought to clear his name, the more people began to turn against him. "You're all idiots! Can't you see?!?"

"Oh, yes. We were blind before to have let you go. But now...you can't hide."

They were certain of it. He had been undermining their work since the beginning. He had been laying just low enough to avoid scrutiny, while pushing things just hard enough to get the wrong people into the noose. He had the attitude of a mafiate, too. The arrogance, the pride, to think himself better.

And it was time to end this. With so few left, he could very well be the last of his kind, with his death serving to make the streets just that more clean. Thus, with little hesitation, the gathered citizens string him up in near-record time, finishing with enough time to take for lunch, brushing off his death as an assured death of their enemy.




It wasn't until near the end of the day that the people decided that they should go through the formalities of actually searching through his stuff. They knew they'd find the gun and the notes somewhere, but it takes them much longer to search his possessions than they anticipate.

He wasn't carrying a gun on his body. Where could it be? In his bags? No, not there. It would probably be in his house, then, along with the notes from whatever meetings he had been attending.

Searching until the sun has faded, tearing his house apart, they find nothing.

It couldn't be!

They couldn't have made a mistake! Not after so many victories! They had killed so many mafia, and seen so many dead mafia, they were on a roll! Their streak couldn't have been broken!

But no evidence shows up. In their recklessness...in their haste...they may have ended up condemning themselves and sealing their fates.

Heartstriken, they abandon the search, and head back to their own abodes, dreading what was to come.

They had failed.

And now, they were yet again at severe risk as a result. There was no twist. There was no sudden reveal. There was no hope in his death. Just the emptiness of another casualty of war. For all that buildup, they had nothing.

At their homes, they dread what would follow. The battle was once again no longer in their control...... >>>

Vanilla Townie

Night Six's deadline is on Monday, September 9th, at 12:30 PM, which is in (expired on 2013-09-09 12:30:00).

<<< Five enemies down, but how many were left to go? Especially given the continuously-dwindling number of people left alive on the council? They only had seven left going into the night, knowing very full and well that more could soon die. How many more would have to be claimed in the name of this war?

A sense of uneasiness abounds. The streets this night were unusually quiet. After such violence the night before, it appeared as if they might not be back for more. But in that silence comes the fear. The mafia wouldn't just disappear. No, they were still around, and that made the night all the more terrifying.

The citizens wait. And wait. Most of them have trouble getting a full night's sleep--or even half a night's sleep. Restlessness abounds. The night is long, and continues to be dark. No stars adorn the sky, as they are blanketed by a black cloud that refuses to blow away. The moon gives no light, too faint to be seen through the cloak of the night. With the streets falling into disrepair, even the lights of lamp-posts are scarce, most of them burnt out and the few remaining being dimmed.

Conditions couldn't be more perfect. And yet, nothing seems to be coming. No violent muggings, no street shootings, no drunkards staggering through the suburbs, not even teenagers smoking pot. Fear had driven them all away, to seek refuge in their homes. And people hold a dim hope, that maybe, just maybe, the mafia would also stay.

The battle had clearly taken its toll on everyone. The denizens of the streets, the mafia, and even those not directly involved. It couldn't last much longer. The icy breeze chills the air. While not strong enough to be a deafening roar, the whir of the wind against metal is clear enough in the minds of everyone.

The nights were getting colder. The days seemingly becoming shorter. It's as if the very world itself was bellowing for this feud to finish, begging, pleading, for it to be resolved one way or another. For the toll against all is too much to sustain. Nobody likes fighting wars. Least of all ones that are this bloody.

So when the light of dawn finally peaks over the horizon, the six remaining resolve to end it. The warmth of the day is faint indeed, but it's enough for them to realize...their freedom was near. Though some clouds linger, for the most part, the day appears to be clear. And as they gather, with this devotion, they stop, pause, and realize...

"Wait...only six?"

Crap. >>>

Vanilla Neighbor

Deadline for Day Seven is Monday, September 30th, at 12:30 PM, which is in (expired on 2013-09-30 12:30:00).
With alive, it's to lynch.