Zombies!!! (A Mafia Game)

[AoM]

The wind howled through the the twisted, leafless branches of the gnarled oak tree that stood at the center of the Grey Haven cemetery. Its old branches, eaten through from the inside by the burrows of insects and worn down by years of cold gales channeled through the westward running valley, loomed earily sideways, threatening to at any second give up the spirit and crash down upon the undertaker's cabin that rested at the base of its trunk. Oaks are noble trees; a sign of nature's strength and resolve against it's more self-destructive qualities, such as the west wind storms and the flash floods from the nearby Bitten Tongue river. But this old oak had long been dying, and it was only a matter of years or maybe less before it came crashing down.

The undertaker who lived beneath that oak could have moved to a safer place than the soft patch of earth that was destined to receive those heavy branches. Lord knows, the shack that he occupied was made of less sturdy stuff than the oak, and may well come crashing down just the same. But the undertaker of Grey Haven cemetary was not so much concerned with the wind, or his shack, or even really his own life. Indeed, if he had had a mind for self-preservation, knowing what he had known for the past 30 years of his life, he would have left the town, valley, and county behind long ago. No, he lived in that shack beneath that oak in the center of that graveyard because it was the best place to keep an eye on things. The best place to keep order, to protect the living, and to make sure that the dead stayed buried.

Occasionally, some fool kids or maybe a greedy sumbitch would try their hand at grave robbery. But a pointed rifle and a few harsh utterances would be enough to scare them off.

And every spring, there was always the threat of the river over running, and the March and April rains could bloat the eastern trough, to make the bodies rise. That could be painful work, but that wasn't what the undertaker feared neither.

The real fear came from within, from words he'd heard as a boy from his grandfather - a man who like him and his father had shared the same profession - a man who had seen things that other men could not know, save for in their darkest thoughts and dreams.

He remembered that night, 30 years before, as he stayed by the fire as his father kissed his brow and then faded into the distance, heading for the cemetary. And his grandfather, deeming the young lad of 14 years had the right to know, told him of the old legends... stories passed down from father to son, of the darker powers that held sway over this land. Of how each generation had a duty to keep watch over the dead. To bury them correctly and observe the rites of the veil. Christian burial had the power to sanctify the bodies, but there were other ways - better ways. Two pennies, one in hand the other on the lips to allow the dead to barter their way past the Keepers... or an iron bell, to scatter the shades who could answer the beckoning call of a necromancer.

The young boy had been taught all of those tricks that night, 30 years past. The night his father had never come home. The town had been in an uproar. Torches were lit, and small arms were sparsed out amongst the tougher men. And the dead had come... his father among them, clawing and biting.

The town had all but died out after that. Of those who survived, not many remained. They moved off to better places and put the nightmare from their mind. Ignoring the threat that might rise once again, should ever a preacher of the dark ways make their way to the slopes of Grey Haven again.

But not this undertaker. He stayed there, in his shack beneath the dying oak. And like the tree he stood watch over the dead. For neither the oak nor he was among their number yet. And as long as he lived and kept the old wards intact, they would not number among the living...


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THE GAME BEGINS.

It is now Day 1. There are 10 players, and the list is in the first post.

Day 1 lynch deadline will be on Wednesday at 8pm (EST)(GMT-4hrs)

All votes or unvotes must be in bold.

[Racetyme]

A short, balding man steps out of the shadows. "I'm Racetyme. So it seems the nightmares of old have come again. I suppose that leaves us with some dirty work. Who knows where we should start?"

[Sparkle]

*She sits on a swing just to the left of the cemetery behind the old church. The wind gently blows through her soft graying hair. She jumps as she hears a voice.*

Oh! *she places her hand to her heart* You startled me. I didn't see you there. It looked like you appeared out of thin air. *laughs softly* Guess I was just lost in my thoughts. *she extends her hand* I'm Sparkle. It is a pleasure to meet you.

[Nakranoth]

*looks up from sharpening his axe* What we do is we find the sump'itches and take their limbs off before they have a chance to try and return the favor. *returns to working his axe*

[deadboy]

*He nods at Nankaroth* I agree, we need to protect ourselves from these zombies. Does anyone here have the skills to tell zombie from person?

[Racetyme]

*He laughs coarsely* If anyone does have such skills, they should not speak of them here. Thats just an invitation to be murdered while we're asleep by the monsters of the night. *He shakes Sparkle's hand* Good to meet you. Now then, I say lets get down to it. If no one has any ideas soon, we are just going to have to start pointing fingers. Maybe then some useful information will come out.

[Sparkle]

You are right. We must becareful of what we speak. We do not want to make ourselves a target and we do need a plan. *laughs at Nakranoth* I think you have the right idea, just becareful where you swing that thing.

[saztronic]

*grimacing, a tall, thin man with a hook nose and neatly parted black hair clears his throat* Frankly, I never put much stock in these... stories, before. Body's just a body, near as I can tell. Always has been. *he shrugs, glancing uneasily at a grave stone wrought in the shape of a heart, the lettering scoured by time, that fate and an upthrust sapling have spitefully cracked in two* S-Something about this place, though. Gives me the oddest feeling...

*he looks over at Nakranoth uncertainly* You look like you know your way around a blade, sir. I assume you've never had occasion to cut someone's limbs off before today? Why the sudden interest? Surely if some unholy power animates these... creatures... then mightn't we assume that their limbs will continue functioning even after being severed? Shouldn't we, I don't know, burn them or something?

[Racetyme]

Hang 'em high, I think. Whether or not it kills them, not much they can do hanging from a tree, eh? *His short bark of a laugh echoes across the cemetery again.*

[Sparkle]

*she gazes off into the distance at the old tree and the shack in the middle of the cemetery in thought, she listens to everyone before speaking* I am concerned about the undertaker. I remember what happened when the other undertaker was killed. *her eyes look sad, she shakes her head, sighs then stands up and speaks in a stern voice* He is the key to this. We must keep him safe or all our hard work will be for nothing.

[Nakranoth]

*chuckles* So what if their arms keep moving, not much they can do in five pieces. And no... I've never had to before... but then I've never been in a situation that required it. And honestly I'd rather not set something ablaze while it's still running around. Fire does spread after all.

*turns to Sparkle* You may be right, but you can't keep burried what's already walking.

[Racetyme]

Well, whoever the undertaker is, they have to keep themselves alive. Not much we can do about it, other than trying not to string 'em up. So, who's got an idea? If no one else is willing to cast the first stone, I think I can point a finger as well as the next in line. I'd rather not guess though. The less of the rest of you there are, the harder life gets for me. I'd rather not be alone with the buggers. Don't fancy my odds at that point. *He laughs again*

[Shay]

I don't want to point a finger first. I want them all killed, but I worry about how hard it might be to figure out who they are. I don't want to hurt innocent people.

[Nakranoth]

I personally never really trust the quiet ones myself... like those four over there... I don't think I've heard so much as a peep from them yet... you'd think they'd have more to say with death lurking just around the corner.

[N-Aldwitch]

Make that three. *he has a worn, old face but full of knowledge, and he walks briskly with a cane and glasses, both of the items appear useless to him, instead just accessories to add to the look of his elderliness*
I do not like how this is going to turn out. We must act immediately to kill the zombie plague, but we have to do it properly. *he rests on his cane* It is indeed a good idea to start killing the quiet ones, but beware, they may rise as zombies. I do not want to have to fight them off in great numbers, so let's do this properly. *he smiles weakly*