|Size||14 Players (Medium)|
|Start Date||March 24, 2009|
|First to Die||Joe's Student|
|Last Remaining||GreyCells, seahorse, syn|
It began on March 24, 2009 and ended in a Pompei win in D7 (April 10th, 2009).
Game Mechanics Edit
"Let the die be thrown."
- Bribe senators for +1 vote weight. 500 gold.
- Find out role identity of a player. 500 gold.
- Hire assassins to kill a player. 1000 gold.
- Hire bodyguards to protect a player from 1 kill attempt. 1000 gold.
Each Night, players may choose to purchase as any actions as they want to use for the Night/Day cycle, and the actions purchased can only be applied to that Night/Day cycle. The exception to this is that no one may be killed on Night 1. The gold a player currently has dies with them, unless otherwise specified. During the Day, there will be a lynch vote, and the player who receives the most lynch votes will be executed and their wealth proscribed (confiscated by the state). If there is a tie, no one is lynched. Game ends in 7 Night/Day cycles, or when there is only one faction left standing. At the end, the faction with the most gold per living player wins.
- The Conspirators+Servilia
The Conspirators: Start out receiving an income of 250 gold per Night each. Once Caesar dies, they each get 1000 gold per Night (starting the Night Caesar dies). If they know the identity of Caesar, can assassinate him themselves for free, and this attack cannot be blocked.
- Brutus: Starts out with 1000 gold. Cannot be killed as long as Caesar is alive.
- Cassius: Starts out with 1000 gold. Known for his moral integrity. Every day, may choose a player, and if that player attempts to offer bribes, he nullifies the bribe and confiscates the bribe money.
- Casca: A coward. Each Night may choose to receive an extra 500 gold in return for a 50% chance of outing himself publicly.
The First Triumvirate:
- Caesar: Starts out with 2000 gold. Gains 1000 gold per Day. Can use military force to stop the lynch vote once. Must PM the host before the Day ends. Is outed when he dies.
- Pompey: Starts out with 2000 gold. Gains 1000 gold per Day. Due to his ability, has earned a spot for himself in the favor of the Optimates. Cannot be killed by the Conspirators.
- Crassus: One of the richest men of the era. Starts out with 5000 gold. If he is killed, he can choose to side with either Caesar or Pompey, hence leaving his chosen inheritor (or his inheritor's inheritor) his gold.
The Second Triumvirate: May not be specifically IDed. If an ID of them is purchased, the result will be 'Second Triumvirate'.
- Mark Antony: Starts out with 1000 gold. Cannot be killed as long as Caesar is alive. If Caesar dies, he learns the identity of the Conspirators. If the Conspirators are lynched, he receives their gold and daily income. However, if they can ID him when they are lynched, he will receive nothing. Is outed when he dies.
- Octavian: Cannot be killed as long as Caesar is alive. As Caesar's inheritor, will receive the gold Caesar has when he dies. If he kills Lepidus, he receives an additional 500 gold each Night.
- Lepidus: A loyal leader. Receives 500 gold each Night for his services to the country.
- Cicero: Invited to be the 4th in the first, but refused b/c he believed it would undermine the republic. Hates Antony, tries to play Octavian against him. If Octavian kills Antony, he receives all of Antony's gold. Once Caesar dies, he learns the IDs of the Second Triumvirate.
- Julia: Caesar's daughter, wife of Pompey. As long as she is alive, Pompey's and Caesar's factions cannot hurt each other. Receives 500 gold each Night.
- Calpurnia: Caesar's wife. Competes for Caesar's affection with his mistress, Servilia. Each Night, must PM the host whether or not she wants to ask Caesar's attention. If both Calpurnia and Servilia choose NO, then they each receive 250 gold. If one chooses NO, and the other YES, the one choosing YES will recieve 1000 gold and the other nothing. If both choose YES, then both get nothing. Continues eve if Caesar dies. If Servilia dies, Calpurnia gets a constant 250 gold per Night.
- Cleopatra: Queen of Egypt. Cannot be killed as long as Antony is alive. Starts out with 2000 gold. May choose one player to seduce each Night, and if the player is a male character, she will receive 250 gold from that player each Night for as long as the player is alive. If she seduces Caesar, she will receive 500 gold per Night from him and if he dies, from his legacy (i.e. from Octavian).
- Servilia: Caesar's lover, mother of Brutus. Competes for Caesar's affection with his wife, Calpurnia. Each Night, must PM the host whether or not she wants to ask Caesar's attention. If both Calpurnia and Servilia choose NO, then they each receive 250 gold. If one chooses NO, and the other YES, the one choosing YES will recieve 1000 gold and the other nothing. If both choose YES, then both get nothing. Continues even if Caesar dies. If Calpurnia dies, Servilia gets a constant 250 gold per Night.
Host's Summary Edit
Game Idea and Expectations Edit
Great job to everyone! thumbsup.gif You would have made great Roman statesmen...backstab.gif...I mean...cool.gif...;P
Anyways...if you're curious about the actions of the game, I've shared the google spreadsheet I used to keep track of the game.
Thanks to everyone for playing! It was a very close game throughout...give yourselves a big hand! clap.gif
Winning Faction Edit
- IDNE - Julia
- JS - Cicero
- GC - Pompey
Day and Night Posts Edit
The illustrious sunlight was reflected off the golden helmets of the centurions that paraded down the street in Triumph. Following behind them was a chariot drawn by a pair of the finest horses that had ever been seen. The steeds had coats of the purest white, flowing manes that shined like silk, and a stride that conveyed an air of aristocracy. The persona of any normal man would have been overshadowed by the magnificence of those stalwart stallions, but the occupant of the chariot was no normal man. No, the glorious figure, enrobed in a pristine white toga lined with gold, with a wreath of dignified green laurel circling his temples that shifted up and down as he nodded and waved to the ecstatic crowd, was none other than Gaius Julius Caesar.
From the platform at the end of the street, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, known simply as Pompey the Great, watched the proceedings with feigned disinterest. Inside his chest, waves of jealously flowed as he remembered his own Triumph, when he had been the one sitting on top of the chariot, waving magnanimously to cheering crowds that chanted his name. Now that seemed so long ago. Now the hearts and minds of the people of Rome had been won over by this ambitious upstart. Thinking about this, he clenched his hand into a fist. But a moment later, a gentle hand with a tender touch covered his. Pompey looked up into the eyes of his new bride who had completely and utterly won over his heart, and the tide of jealousy inside him ebbed. Without Caesar, a voice in his head reminded him, he wouldn't have Julia.
Amidst the petals of pink, yellow, and lavender that infused the air, a handsome, muscular man made his way towards the moving chariot. Caesar held up his hand and the chariot came to a lilting stop. The man came up to Caesar, an object raised in his hand. It was a crown.
"Oh, great Caesar!" Mark Antony exclaimed, throwing open his arms and bowing in a gesture of respect. "I come to offer you the tribute you so rightfully deserve." He extended the crown towards Caesar. "To the only man worthy of wearing this ornament and the title that goes with it!" At this declaration, the crowds burst out in cheering.
Caesar held up his hand and lowered his chin to signal the masses to quiet down. Then he shook his head slowly and sternly. Raising his chin again, he gazed onto the crowd with righteous eyes and addressed them, "I love Rome with all my heart and I vow to protect her safety and prosperity with everything that I am, but I am only a man, a proud and loyal citizen of Rome. I am not an Emperor." At this sign of humility, the crowds broke out in a torrent of applause. As Caesar smiled at them with beneficence, he added in his mind, not yet, at least.
A pair of large, clear eyes stared upon this august figure from a balcony in a building along the side of the street. The intelligent brain behind these eyes was now completely enraptured by the scene it beheld. From that angle, the brilliant light of the sun projected a majestic aura around Caesar's form, a golden halo. As he watched the being with awe, Octavian thought, no, I'm not looking upon an Emperor...I'm looking upon a god.
In contrast to the boy's naive adoration, across the street a man with a square jaw and high cheekbones glared down at the man of honor with a feeling of foreboding. Marcus Junius Brutus exchanged meaningful glances with his co-conspirators, and it was apparent that the same thought was traveling through their minds. Caesar's ambition was dangerous and had be stemmed, at any cost, for the sake of the Republic.
However, the die had already been thrown. The number that was revealed by fate was 7. The precious Republic was foredained to fall during that time. Only the fittest would survive and rise up as the Sun of the Empire. But that destiny had yet to be written; that prophecy was awaiting the mental ink of the players on this stage.
The full moon shimmered with anticipation. Footsteps marched purposefully down the paved street and came to a stop in front of the cascading arches of IDNE's home. There was a knock at his door. When he opened it, stifling a yawn, his gaze fell upon the trim, tunic-clad figures of two male servants who had something heaved above their shoulders. IDNE rubbed his eyes, and when they refocused, he saw that the object was a rolled-up carpet. "What the..."
Wordlessly, the two men pushed him out of the way and stepped inside the abode. After making their way to the center of the room (which had the best lighting), they halted and turned abruptly to face the bewildered IDNE. In one swift motion, without blinking, the two stoic servants dropped the cylinder to the ground, allowing the carpet to unroll, revealing...a woman, dressed in an ephemeral robe.
After taking a moment to orient herself, the dark-haired woman pulled herself up-right slowly, seiging IDNE with a seductive stare. IDNE opened his mouth to say something, but the woman held up one hand to motion for silence, the other hand holding tightly to her robe. She stepped towards him, shifting her hips from side to side. When she was a meter away from him, she loosened her grip on her robe and the gossamer, flowing fabric fell.
The servants moved to the door and slammed it shut.
But she would be waiting a long time, for the Fates had intervened to make the romance a comedy. As Caesar had been heading out of his estate, he had been stopped by the call of his faithful wife, the aristocratic Calpurnia, begging him to stay with her. Confused and conflicted, (and fearing the stress would send him into an epileptic fit, which he could afford to be seen suffering from in public), Caesar had thrown up his hands and decided to pay a visit to his nephew Octavian instead.
The Forum was filled with the heated voices of those who sought to fulfill their great ambitions. The insidious Surge scowled scathingly at sparrowhawk. Sparrowhawk frowned reproachfully at IDNE, showing his disapproval of the reported Night visit from the plaited-haired Queen. IDNE glanced eagerly at rossbeemer, lusting for blood. Rossbeemer listened to the commotion that echoed in the stone chamber wearing his best impression of innocence.
As the sun receded into the horizon, as if to compensate for the lengthened wavelengths of light, the voices of the group became higher in frequency and intensity. But one voice was conspicuously missing. It was a voice that had resounded in these halls with dignity, clarity, and eloquence. It was a voice that had immutably expounded the ideals of the Republic, and fought for her glory and integrity. It was also a voice that had a tendency for tortuousness, for it belonged to a man who, albeit a great orator (one of the greates Rome would ever know), could be fickle in temperament. The missing voice was that of Cicero.
Had he been taken ill? Was there a matter of great importance he suddenly had to attend? Or was he simply abashedly hiding, attempting to avoid Antony? The Romans did not know, but they were a clever and capitalizing bunch. Taking advantage of the absence of Cicero's words of wisdom and influence, his enemies realized that this was the best opportunity they had to destroy the threat once and for all.
"His name must be on the list!" cried Antony with fervor, pointing at the proscription papyrus persuasively. Octavian's brows knit and his red lips formed into a pout. Cicero had been a mentor to the boy, earning his respect and admiration. But the successor of Caesar was outvoted. Antony's eyes lit up with glee as he smugly ordered the troops to take action. He was so busy savoring his victory that he failed to notice a shadow slither away from the gathering.
Cicero's loyal servant sprinted towards the home of his master as fast as his legs would carry him. A few times he stumbled on stones along the path, but he did not stop; he could not afford to. As he scampered onto the patio, he saw Cicero sitting languidly on a bench, staring wordlessly at the chess board in front of him. "Master," the servant panted, "you must get away...they're coming for you!"
But Cicero did not look up. Instead, he shook his head calmly and meticulously raised a hand to pick up a chess piece. "It's too late for me, friend," he replied with resignation. "They can take away my status and wealth, but at least I will die with dignity."
The soldiers of the state stormed into Cicero's estate, stampeding through his garden and trampling the yellow daffodils and pink chrysanthemums. Moments later, they surrounded Cicero. He looked at his murderers with a expression that preserved his pride and knelt down as the leader of the soldiers approached. He told the man, "There is nothing proper about what you are doing, soldier, but do try to kill me properly,", and drew down the color of his tunic to bare his marble colored neck. The gruff, hulking soldier drew his sword sharply, then skillfully stabbed it into Cicero's neck. When he withdrew it, Cicero's body fell sideways, knocking over the chess board. The piece Cicero had just moved clanked to the ground, where it bounced three times and then rolled resolutely into bath of blood that was forming.
Goodbye JS. I'm sorry to lose you so early in the game. I was really looking forward to seeing the Cicero/Antony/Octavian thing play out confused.gif . Oh well, maybe in the next one...
In the catacombs, the shadows were drawn and then retracted by the light emanating from Dawg's torch as he passed. An alcove to his left revealed a pile of bones, on top of which was perched a skull. There was something about the skull that attracted his attention. Carefully stepping over the bones littering the ground, Dawg moved in closer to get a clearer look. Simultaneously, a shadow behind in also moved in closer. The flame of the torch flickered as Dawg held it up into the alcove. The reflection of the flame on the assassin's knife flickered concurrently. After studying the skull, the sides of Dawg's mouth bent downwards into a frown. The sides of the blade of the assassin's knife came down. As the torch fell to the ground, it momentarily illuminated the skull for the assassin to see. The skull appeared to be laughing.
Day 2 begins now, ends in 24 hours.
|Spoiler for And the lynching goes to...:
No one. It's a tie.
The putrid stench of the sewers drifted up, unwelcome, to the olfactory gland of the lean, bronze-skinned, and well-muscled man who silently stalked through them. It was deplorable that the transaction had to take place in such a squalid locale, but, unfortunately, the undesirable qualities of vileness and repulsion of these quarters was exactly what afforded them the desirable qualities of isolation and concealment. But still...
As the man involuntarily moved one hand up to cover his nose, a sudden change in the air flow patterns caused the hair on the back of his neck to perk up. His other hand moved nimbly to the embroidered hilt of the dagger strapped to his belt. Utilizing the expertly trained awareness in his senses, he waited until the timing was perfect, then swung his torso around and brought the dagger up right under the interloper's chin.
The visitor pulled back, startled, then hissed "Relax, it's me."
The man squinted at the new arrival warily, but withdrew the dagger. "Do you have my money?" he queried as he returned the weapon to his belt. In answer, a sack was tossed at his feet, which made clanking noises when it landed. The man carefully bent over to pick it up, all the while keeping his peripheral vision on the stranger. After retrieving the pouch, the mercenary bounced the sack up and down in his hand and when he judged the weight to be correct for the amount he had demanded, he nodded to his new client in acknowledgment. "It will be done," he assured the patron, and then quickly vanished into the Night.
In the shadows, the stranger's lips set into a smug smile.
He halted when he reached a particular crevice in the wall. Privy to the knowledge that there was a secret entrance into the building there, he place his hand on the secret handle and...
Suddenly, a beam of light from a hand-held torch came around the corner into the alley. Caught by surprise, the mercenary froze and stared at the two muscular men who walked towards him. "You there!" one of the men cried out. "What are you doing here? Our mistress ordered us not to let anyone near this Bath..."
Quickly regaining his composure and taking in the situation, the mercenary made an experienced judgment that these men appeared strong and well-trained. Prudently, he used his agility to his advantage and, once again, vanished into the Night.
The Senator traipsed under the marble arches, darting glances left and right as he weaved through sleek ivory pillars of the Forum. When he was searching for the person he had scheduled this clandestine rendezvous with, a hiss from behind him halted him. As his form came to a stop, the extra fat on his stomach jiggled. This looseness of his belly was representative of the looseness of his morals. His flabby jowls flapped up and down as he turned to face his addresser. The Senator couldn't get a good look due to the cloaking of the shadows in the columns, which were elongated by the sunset. But he was ambivalent about knowing the identity of his client. All he cared about was the money, and the bounty he could purchase with it. As images of cured, smoked meats and honey cakes came into his mind, saliva began to form at the side of his mouth. A moment later, it started to drip down his cheek. Watching this, the cloaked figure smiled.
The main floor of the Forum was abuzz with activity. A cacophony of voices and echoes saturated the air. "I accuse IDNE of conspiring against the mighty Caesar!" Surge propounded.
Prof. T shrugged, and muttered out of the side of his mouth "Well, I made a motion to proscribe LIS, but no one seems to be interested..."
At the last minute, rossbeemer leaned back onto the stone desk behind him and yawned. "Sorry Surge, I just don't believe you. But I guess we'll see soon enough..."
Abruptly, Prof. T jumped up. "Well, I don't believe him either, but...meh..."
The vote was closed. The motion was carried: proscribe Fox. The soldiers were sent out.
The stormed through the gold-gilded gates of Fox's grand estate. The armed men bounded up the marble steps and propelled through the monolithic gold and silver embossed doors and into the high-ceilinged hall. They stomped past the pristine marble statues lining the hall and turned at the corner in the direction of Fox's bedroom, pushing a scrawny dark-skinned servant aside as they made their way. The servant teetered, then lost his balance and fell backwards, into the bust of the master of the house, which came crashing down to the floor. The head of Crassus smashed into a thousand pieces. The frenzied servant stooped down hurriedly and attempted to gather up pieces, hoping against hope that there was some way to fix the situation.
The soldiers threw open the door of Fox's bedroom. Crassus, who had been sitting at the boudoir, primping in the mirror and day-dreaming about the beautiful visage that had graced his presence last Night, started violently and fell off the chair. "Who...who sent you to kill me?" he stammered, pulling himself back up. "Was it that shift-eyed Surge? Or the not-so-good Professor?" Fox's face formed into a pout. "Well, they're just jealous that the Queen of the Nile chose me over them..."
The stoic soldier blinked impassively. He looked back at his comrades, then drew his sword in one swift motion. A moment later, the head of Crassus came crashing down to the floor for the second time that day. This time, though, there was no hope of fixing the situation.
Thanks for playing, Kat. I need you to PM me your choice wink.gif.
For everyone still alive: Night 4 begins now! We're halfway through the game...you better have your game on...;P.
In the middle of the Night, gliding through the streets under the veil of darkness, was a cloaked figure. The sinewy silhouette slipped silently into an alley, and emerged a few streets away under the arches of a particular building.
Inside the house, LIS leaned back in his hammock, reading the papyrus by the light of the roman candle. He was yawning when the knock came at the door. He inhaled shallowly, then called out "Who is it?" No answer. LIS shrugged nonchalantly, set the papyrus aside, stood up and walked to the door.
As soon as he pulled it open, a hand shot in and grabbed his arm. The hand was as white as marble and its grasp was firm. LIS's tired mind didn't have time to react. The visitor raised the other hand and...
...Pulled down the hood of her cloak, revealing a head of dark silky hair. She shook her head, and the ebony mane cascaded in waves down her shoulders. Then the woman looked up into LIS's wide eyes and her luscious lips curved into a smile.
LIS returned the smile as he extended his free arm to close the door. It's about time...
But his revelry was cut short by a figure cutting across his path. The intruder was a rugged man with unkempt hair, bulging bronzed muscles and a scar down the side of his face. Fear rose up in IDNE's chest. "Puh...please..." he stuttered, reeling back. "What do you want? Money?" IDNE's sweaty hand struggled shakily with the strings to the sack on his belt. After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to loosen them. He threw the sack at the man's feet. "Here, take it, take it all...just don't hurt me!"
The assassin bent over and retrieved the sack. He tossed it up and caught it, feeling the weight. A smile crossed his thin lips. "Thank you." The man turned as if to leave.
IDNE breathed out a deep sigh of relief. Well, he had lost his gambling earnings, but he was still alive, so he guessed it was still a good day...
As the assassin started walking away, the man mused to himself "You know...why take one payment...when I can take two?"
Before IDNE could blink, the jagged roman sword sliced through his torso. A good day...
Brutus gritted his teeth. Fortunately for him, the conversation was interrupted by the call of a Senator for attention. LIS turned to Brutus and nodded munificently to him, indicating for him to take his seat. He obliged.
"Fellow Senators and Citizens of Rome!" the Senator cried in introduction. "The mighty Caesar has declared that he has an important announcement to put forth. Please lend him your ears!" He bowed his head in deference to Caesar as the man walked up to the podium.
Caesar nodded at the Senator, who retreated to his seat, before turning and facing the audience. After he ascertained that he held their full attention, he raised his aristocratic chin into the air and opened his mouth to speak. His dauntless voice carried unwaveringly throughout the stone hall and the sound reverberated assuredly off the marble walls, transmitting the full weight of the words that were carried on it.
"Senators and Citizens of Rome!" he proclaimed. "I have come here today to put forth a motion to you, my comrades and friends. You all know that I have worked hard through my campaigns of war and of legislation for the safety and prosperity of our great land." There were murmurs of agreement in the crowd. Caesar continued, furrowing his brows, "But, unfortunately, the politics engendered by the varying personal agendas of a large group of people has hindered my progress in my mission." He glared sharply at the audience, daring them to challenge him. No one did. "So henceforth, I have decided to take it upon myself to make decisions for the good of Rome, without the need to attempt to cater to the selfish desires of all the individuals of the Senate, under the guise of 'Republic'. To put it simply, I am declaring myself Dictator."
The Senators burst into a shocked uproar. With expedience, one of the Optimates jumped up out of his seat and hurried up to Caesar. Taking their pre-arranged cue, several others followed. "Oh, mighty Caesar!" the Optimate cried as he approached. "Let me be the first to congratulate you on your promotion..." He threw an arm around Caesar's shoulders and took Caesar's hand in his. Caesar smiled smugly and turned his hand to gaze out beneficently on his audience...
The dagger that had been hidden in the sleeve of the Optimate was stabbed into Caesar's back. Immediately, several other daggers were thrust into different parts of Caesar's anatomy. Then the circle of conspirators backed away as Caesar stumbled a few steps forward, finally falling into a pair of arms. Caesar's bloody, incredulous eyes looked up into the face of the person in front of him. It was Brutus. There was a fleeting flutter of relief in his eyes, but it was quickly chased away by the sight of the dagger in the man's hand. The mighty Caesar coughed up blood as he attempted to utter his final words. "You too, boy?" As the finishing dagger plunged into Caesar's gut, there appeared to be the slightest flicker of pain in Brutus's eyes. Then they became cold, like Caesar's corpse.
Thanks for playing IDNE and LIS!
The corrupt Senator patted the purse that contained the coins he had gotten from toDay's bribe. He was smiling to himself and contemplating what fine meats and fruits he would purchase for himself that night when a hurried figure clipped him from behind as it ran past him. The Senator cursed at the form, but it paid him no heed. It had dire news to carry.
The servant scampered frantically into the room of his Master and Mistress and tripped over the hem of the Oriental rug and fell, knocking into the clay decanter decorated with black-painted figures depicting the stories of past Pharaohs that had been lying on its side and sending it rolling along the ground. As it went, the last drops of wine spilled out of the rim and plopped onto the rug. Nearby, the tears of the beautiful woman sitting on the throne also plopped down.
She stared down at the man that she loved, who was lying prostrate, his head resting in her lap. The woman didn't look up as the servant made his breathless report. She already knew what he would say. "The soldiers have been sent. They're coming for Antony."
Hearing this, Antony was jolted out of his inebriated slumber. He groaned and muttered with slurred words, "Then I must meet them and show them what I'm made of! Where is that damn sword?" He lifted his hand and patted around for it. When he touched the hilt, he grasped it tightly, and with great difficulty, heaved himself up into a standing position. Yawning, he thrust the sword into the air, which caused him to lose his balance for a moment and stumble. But Antony was a seasoned soldier and his body subconsciously regained its composure at the thought of battle. "Who dares challenge the great Mark Antony!" he cried before beginning to move forward.
But Cleopatra grabbed his arm with her smooth white hands and held onto it with a grip as solid as ivory. "Don't go, my love," she pleaded. More tears fell from her eyes and intermixed with the wine that had spilled on the floor. "There's nothing you can do. You've already lost. If you go now, you'll die. Please...don't leave me..."
Antony blinked, allowing her passion-filled words to set into his groggy brain. Then he looked into her large, dark, coal-rimmed eyes, and, upon seeing the sea of sorrow that filled them, he felt a deep pain stab into his chest. He grabbed her slender hands in his, and bent down to put his head to hers.
"You're right," he whispered tenderly into her ear. "Why should I go throw myself on their swords when I could stay in the arms of the woman I love? What was I thinking?" He shook his head in self-reproach. Then he looked straight into her tear-filled eyes and gave her a bittersweet smile. "But don't worry...I won't let them take me. I'll never leave you again."
He lifted her hand and moved it to position her arm around his neck. Then he leaned his head towards hers until their lips met. With his other hand, he lifted the sword...and plunged it into his own gut.
Cleopatra tasted the saltiness of her own tears in the kiss. Moments later, she tasted the saltiness of Antony's blood.
The cool breeze bristled the fur on the pelt of the hired hit-man. He was a burly fellow, of Gallic descent, who had once moonlighted as a fierce and fearless warrior, riding out into the battlefield, swinging his heavy spiked mace with a war-cry that struck terror into the hearts of all his foes. But now that that tyrant Caesar had invaded his precious motherland and subjugated his countrymen, there were limited options for what he could do with his unique skill set. His large red lips curved into a sneer as he patted the handle of his mace.
He had tried doing what they called "honest work", honest, but had found his temperament unsuitable to the task. His first attempt at earning a living had been to work moving stone in the quarry. However, when a fellow worker had dropped a stone on his foot, his natural reaction to the perceived 'attack' had been to swiftly and skillfully dispatch his 'attacker'. Unfortunately, his overseer had not appreciated his skills. Fortunately, a passerby, who had been the steward of a rich citizen, had recognized his abilities and hired him as a bodyguard for his master. The warrior had been glad to get work he felt was in his field. What happened next had not been his fault, or so he told himself.
After all, he couldn't have known that his employer would be an arrogant ass who believed the Gallic race was one step above pigs (well, unless it was one of his own award-winning pigs of course), and was unabashed in vocalizing his own opinions. In the end, they had found his body lying in the mud by the side of the pen of his precious pigs. His head, which would not have been recognizable except for the fact that it had been manifestly detached from his body, had been put to good use by the pigs. It seemed that they had invented a new game in which they attempted to kick his head into the troughs on either side of the pen. The warrior snorted as he thought about it. Apparently those pigs were truly deserving of being called award-winning, after all...
Then the warrior sighed to himself. Still, he had to face it: he was a killer, that was what he had always done best, better than anyone else, and that was the only thing he could do well.
A shadow appeared from underneath the bridge he was perched on, interrupting his cogitations. The muscles in his neck tensed, and the killer felt the all too familiar rush of adrenaline as he grasped the weapon tightly in his large, coarse hands. He kept his breath low and steady until the back of the head of his target came into his view. Then, letting out a great yell, he leaped from the top of the bridge, his mace raised high above his flaxen-haired head.
Einkil had nigh a moment to react before the metallic spikes crushed into his skull.
The light of the full moon was periodically blocked by drifting clouds. Underneath the starless sky, Rossbeemer was strolling in the Garden of Good and Evil. His brows were knit and his mouth was scrunched as he walked, deep in thought. The death of Caesar had thrown the political scene of Rome into turmoil. Where one tremendous ambition had fallen, countless lesser ones had risen to attempt to fill the void. Now, he had to figure out what he must do with the good of his beloved Rome.
Rossbeemer's head began to hurt from all the deep contemplation. He shook it fervently and then cried out to the pristine marble statues which stood at intervals in the lush Garden, "What do I do now?" He threw open his arms in a plea for a sign from the sculpted depictions of the gods. But their inanimate white eyes only continued to stare blankly into the darkness of the Night.
The loyal citizen of Rome breathed out a deep sigh and covered his face with his hands. What was he doing? Was the stress driving him mad? Perhaps what he really needed was a break from it all...
His tired brain was suddenly aware of a sound reaching his ears. It seemed to be...singing? Rossbeemer lowered his hands slowly and glanced around, trying to locate the source of the music, or maybe he was really trying to ascertain whether the sound was a delusion of his exhausted mind...
No, it wasn't. The melody increased in volume as the singer approached him from behind. The voice was female, and Rossbeemer realized that he couldn't recognize the lyrics because they were in a language he did not know. As he turned to face the diva, the clouds parted, and a brilliant beam of moonlight shone down on the woman, casting her ivory skin aglow with its radiance. Rossbeemer's breath caught in his throat at the divine sight. She was as beautiful as any of the statues of the goddesses in the Garden. The difference was that her eyes were full of vigor and life, and her smooth skin wouldn't be cold...
The warrior carried his mace heaved over his shoulder. He had unceremoniously swiped it a couple times on the tunic on Einkil's corpse to get the blood off, but he could smell the scent of death that stained it. It was a scent that he had been introduced to early in life, and a scent that would most likely follow him everywhere. Well, no time to get philosophical. He had another kill to accomplish.
After 'soliciting' several Citizens of questionable repute, he had learned that Seahorse resided in a villa on the outskirts of the city. When he had arrived, he had found that Seahorse was not at home. Now he waited patiently for his prey to return.
From his hiding spot in the shadows under the eaves of the villa, he heard the front gate creak open. Once again there was the tensing of the muscles in his neck, and the rush of adrenaline in his veins. He heard light, quick footsteps approach him. The killer held until the calculated moment, then sprung out, mace poised...
His sharp, experienced eyes looked down into the a pair of huge innocent ones, which stared up at him in surprise and wonderment. The twinkling dark orbs belonged to an olive-skinned child with thin arms and a head of light brown hair.
The warrior hesitated. What should he do? Would the boy scream and alert the Centurions? Should he silence the child before it had a chance?
The veteran had trained long and hard over the years, so that he could be ready for anything. But nothing prepared him for what the boy did next...
The child threw his arms around the killer's waist and buried his small head in the man's stocky torso. "Wow!" the boy cried in awe. "I knew it! You must be my father. How else would you know about this place? They told me you were going to be gone for a long time...when I asked them how long, they refused to answer and told me not to get my hopes up...but I knew that you would come for me."
The boy pulled back and the sight of the warm ear-to-ear grin on the child's face began to melt the ice that had for so long imprisoned the man's heart. The man lifted his hand slowly, awkwardly, and finally placed it on the boy's head. He felt the softness of the boy's fine hair under his rough fingers. A lump began to form in his throat...
"Caesarian!" The cry startled the warrior back to attention. He looked up to see Seahorse entering the gate. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon, but as his glance rested on the boy once again he knew that he wouldn't be able to accomplish his task. Not with this child watching.
The boy let go of him and ran a few steps in Seahorse's direction. "Hurry!" he shouted excitedly. "Look who came to visit me...!"
But when the child turned back, the man was gone.
Thanks for playing Einkil! Good luck with your other stuff wink.gif.
Everyone still alive...Day 5 starts now, ends in 24 hours! Better watch it...we're getting down to the wire...;P
(Wow...I spent nearly 2 hours writing that...sweatingbullets.gif)
Y-san is having internet trouble... so I'll be making the day post in her stead. Sorry if it's not up to the usual ROME standards.
Ross, your vote was placed well after the deadline, therefore I can't count it towards the final result. Sorry. -Sinistral
There was much commotion in the Senate with all the deaths that had occurred lately. Everyone was arguing amongst themselves until Sparrowhawk stepped forward. "My friends, surely you can see that Surge is a serious threat to all of us," said Sparrowhawk. "He must be dealt with." A silence came over the senators for a moment, and then several heads began to nod in agreement.
"Lies! I am no threat to my fellow countrymen. She is trying to trick you all! Do not be fooled!" shouted Surge, but the soldiers were already being summoned to arrest Surge and take him away. As the footsteps of the soldiers drew closer, Surge remained surprisingly calm. "My fellow Romans, remember all that I have done for you. What has Sparrowhawk ever done for Rome? Think about it logically."
There was silence once again as the senators pondered the current situation. One of the senators glanced down at his coin purse which was weighing rather heavily on his belt as of late. "The man does have a point," said the senator with a wry smile. "Sparrowhawk isn't even a Roman anyway!" yelled another senator, who coincidentally also had a purse full of coin.
When the soldiers finally arrived, the senators were calling for the arrest of Sparrowhawk instead. The soldiers drew their swords and formed a circle around her, but Cleopatra stood her ground with a defiant look upon her face. "I shall not be triumphed over," said Cleopatra as she drew an asp from a basket she was carrying. "My Antony is calling me. I am fire and air, my other elements I give to baser life. Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips." She then kissed the asp and applied the snake to her own neck. Within a few seconds, the poison coursed through her veins, and Cleopatra fell to the ground, dead.
The ephemeral light of the moon chased after the wiry, agile form of the assassin, but she was proving too fast for it. Finally, she stopped in front of a particular building. When the light caught up with her, it illuminated a face that was veiled except for a pair of golden eyes which slanted up at the corners. Her long dark hair was tied back into a ponytail high at the back of her head. She wielded dual scimitars, one in each hand. She held one in front of her, poised to strike any target that would pass in her sights. The other was positioned at the ready along the arc of her back, which would allow her to effortlessly switch her vantage. Her soft, controlled breath sent the faintest of ripples through the veil as she waited.
Surge staggered as he stepped out of the bar. He opened his mouth and let out a deep belch. Ah, he had had quite a bit of good whine today. While he was smiling to himself dreamily, his peripheral vision alighted upon something shiny on the ground. It was a roman coin. His lucky day!
He took a moment to get his bearings and then abruptly dropped down to pick up his prize, just as the blade of the scimitar swung in an arc towards him. So intent on his object was he that he didn't notice it lop off a lock of his fair hair. After retrieving the coin, he awkwardly pulled himself back up into a standing position, nearly keeling backwards in the process. A grin of satisfaction spread out over his face as he gazed upon the coin in his hand. Then he shrugged nonchalantly and tossed the coin up into the air.
The assassin shifted her balance after transferring the momentum of the missed swing. Her knees bent and then she leaped up into the air, her body spinning around frictionlessly. The two blades twirled around in tandem on either side of her torso, before slicing down on her target.
On the ground, the coin landed heads as Surge's head landed next to it.
Thanks for playing Bb...I honestly can say it wouldn't be the same without you...
The remaining Romans gathered in the Forum of the Senate, where their few voices echoed eerily inside the vast stone chambers and through the now empty seats where their comrades had once sat.
"GC!" Rossbeemer cried. "You have amassed too much wealth and influence in your own person and we fear you have become a threat to the Republic!"
"Here, here!" the others cried in agreement. They glared at GC with lean and hungry looks.
But GC was not phased in the slightest. Instead, he leaned back in his seat laconically, stretched out his arms to the sky, and let out a deep yawn. When he looked back at his interrogators, a smug smile sat on his face. "You know..." he mused, stroking his chin. "I think you're right!" The grin on his face spread from ear to ear. "I had amassed too much wealth and influence..." He paused for dramatic effect, then continued with a wink, "...that's why I decided to make some new friends."
There was a rush of footsteps approaching the entrance of the Forum. The Roman citizens glanced around at each other, bewildered. A legion of soldiers marched onto the floor double-file, and upon entering, the two lines split and headed in opposite directions along the circumference of the stage. When the two ends met, they halted and abruptly all the soldiers simultaneously turned to face the center of the room.
GC arose from his seat and walked assuredly and unhurriedly down the marble stairs, his footsteps resounding through the silent walls. When he reached the floor, he lifted his head towards his would-be executioners and addressed them, "My new friends and I have decided that we find Caesar's murder a truly grievous act of betrayal, and we have concluded that his murderer must be brought to justice!"
With a dramatic flourish, GC raised his arm and pointed his finger at Rossbeemer. "You, who Caesar loved and treated as his own son, turned on him and broke his heart before running it through with your knife. Caesar was my dear friend, and I will take it upon myself to take your head as penitence for your crime!"
Rossbeemer jumped up from his seat. "Caesar was a tyrant!" he exclaimed, his head held high with pride. "He had to be destroyed for the good of the Republic! I am not a murderer; I am a hero! I am the tyrant-slayer, the Hero of the Republic!" As he spoke, he reached his hand towards his belt and drew out his sword. He held the blade up and stared at it for a moment before setting it on the table, overhanging the edge, and taking a deep breath. When he resumed his speech, his voice reverberated throughout the hall with strength and weight. "I would do anything for the sake of the Republic. I would fight for Her. I would kill folr her. And...I would die for her."
With these dignified words, Brutus threw himself on his sword. The pristine white marble of the Senate floor was spattered with his crimson blood.
Okay, 3 players remain. This is the last Night the Roman Republic shall see. Decide you actions wisely.
By the light of the Roman candle, Syn sat, alternating gripping and releasing his robe in his sweaty palms, engendering and effacing the creases in the cloth while the creases on his forehead remained constant. The tension in the air was palpable. All the momentum that had been set forth into motion the past six Days was now rolling towards a head, and when all the separate lines of Fate converged, there would an eruption that no one would be fully prepared for.
But Syn didn't think he'd survive long enough to see the revolution. His uncanny power of prophecy sensed something approaching his humble abode. A few more moments passed, which to him seemed like years, before his ears picked up the sound of stomping footsteps trudging towards his door. The volume of the steps increased, until the sound seemed like thunder to Syn's sensitive eardrums. Then, abruptly, they stopped. A knock came at the door.
Syn swallowed hard, gathering his courage and dignity. Then he rose from his seat, throwing his collar up with a determined flip, and stepped pronouncedly towards the door. With his shaky hand, he grasped the handle tightly, then thrust the door open, to reveal...
...A group of merry men and women clad in togas, and waving around clay jugs haphazardly. "Hey, Impy!" GC, who was leaning on Seahorse for support, called out. Syn could smell the wine on his breath as he spoke. "Come join us! Forget politics and money for once! We've invited a group of lovely ladies to join us, and we've decided to spend our last Night having some fun! Let's PARTAY!"
Recovering from the initial shock, Syn began to smile. He shrugged, and, taking the wine jug GC offered him with one hand, stepped out onto the porch and slammed the door to the room of his serious contemplations shut with the other.
Day 7 starts!!! In 24 hours the Fate of ROME shall be decided...dun dun dun!
|Day 7: Finale|
Seahorse was clad fully in the armor he had donned when he had loyally served Caesar. The newly-shined bronze breast plate glistened in the red-orange rays of dusk. Just then Impy noticed a small hand clasping tightly to the red hem of the skirt of Seahorse's tunic. A moment later, a head of light brown hair peaked out from behind Seahorse's stolid form, followed by a pair of large, innocent eyes and tiny ruby-red lips. Seahorse nodded to the boy in encouragement, then placed his hand firmly on the child's shoulder and gave him a push towards Impy. The boy stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance. Glancing at Impy with temerity, the boy cautiously made his approach.
A wave of pain passed through Impy's chest. Seeing the anguish in her eyes, Lepidus pronounced in his deepest voice "Caesar is dead. You have mourned long enough for him. Pining away for what can no longer be will do no good, and is something Caesar would look down upon." Calpurnia gulped and stared into Lepidus's kind eyes as he continued. "You bore Caesar no children, and hence he named Octavian his heir. However, Octavian is gone now too. But...a part of Caesar still lives, and that part of Caesar is this boy, Caesarian, Caesar's son."
Calpurnia's swollen eyes came to rest upon the small form, which stood a few feet away from her. Yes, those dark eyes were innocent, clear...but there was something in them that she recognized. A slight gasp escaped her throat as she realized what it was...it was just a glimmer, but it was there: ambition befitting the name Caesar. She held out her hand to the boy, who hesitated, unfamiliar with the fair skin and hair of the Romans. But when Calpurnia bestowed upon the boy a smile that projected her love of Caesar onto him, he returned her gesture with his own brilliant, guileless smile and put his small hand in hers. The warmth of his touch stirred up a wealth of emotion inside Calpurnia, and in the heat of the moment, she pulled the boy quickly in for a tight embrace. Happily surprised, the boy threw his arms around her neck and hugged her tightly.
Lepidus stood back and smiled as he gazed upon the scene of their entwined silhouettes warmly enveloped by the twilight. He shut his eyelids and briefly allowed himself to drift in the serenity of the moment, and wished that it could last an eternity. Then he let out a deep sigh and opened his eyes. The madonna and child had reached the bittersweet reprieve to their stories, but his was not quite finished yet. No, there was still a task at hand. Picking up his sword, Lepidus turned on his heels and stalked resolutely in the direction opposite the setting sun.
GC had been waiting for him on the steps of the Colosseum. He put his hand over his eyes to block the sunlight and rose to his feet when he saw Seahorse approaching from the direction of the setting sun, sword raised in challenge. GC smirked. "You, the dog of Caesar, think you can defeat me, Pompey the Great?" He drew his own sword. "Let's see you try."
Seahorse swung his blade at GC, who parried it with ease. GC returned the blow, and Seahorse returned the parry. The duel ensued. The two opponents proved to be equally matched in skill, but Seahorse's breath remained steady while GC's huffing and puffing increased in volume and frequency. While Seahorse had kept himself under a strict regimen of training, the years of pomp and pleasure that GC had so enjoyed had added extra weight that now felt to him like the weight of the world. Taking notice of his enemy's weakening state, Seahorse reared his sword back and then swung it forward with all the force he could muster. GC's sword was sent flying into the air as his body tumbled backwards onto the paved road.
Holding his blade to GC's double chin, Seahorse demanded, "You have lost. Do you capitulate?" GC swallowed and shook his head tentatively. Inhaling deeply, Seahorse lowered his sword. GC narrowed his eyes. Seahorse's guard was down, and GC seized the opportunity. There was a glint of the light off the metal of the dagger as GC pulled it out from its hiding place under his tunic. A moment later, his sword clanked to the ground as Seahorse stumbled backwards, grasping his wrist in pain. He stammered, "You...you...brought an extra weapon?"
GC sneered, looking down at him, "My, my...did you really think I'd go down so easily? Have you learned nothing?"
Seahorse's bowed head hid his mouth as its corners curved up into a grin. "Oh...but I have!" he murmured, then he sprung at GC, his own hidden dagger unsheathed.
GC just barely managed to sidestep the thrust at his heart. Instead, the dagger grazed the side of his arm, tearing his yellow robe of fine silk. And so the battle resumed. The metal of the rapidly moving blades flashed as the wavelengths of light respired to elongate. Finally, the fight reached a standstill and the daggers of the two Romans froze in space and time, crossed before them, equal and opposite forces being applied from both sides.
Through gritted teeth, with beads of sweat pouring down his face, GC grunted "Heh, not bad! You're a fine warrior, but I'm afraid you underestimated me..."
Through his own set of gritted teeth, Seahorse responded "Enough with your bluffs and your lies. Let's end this..."
He never had the chance to finish. Instead, his arm went lax, and then his body fell over onto the ground, revealing the hilt of the third secret dagger protruding from his side. A minute later, he managed to crawl up onto his elbows, and he raised his head to stare up at the face of GC, but it was obscured by the long crimson lances of light from the setting sun behind GC's towering form. When Seahorse coughed, he tasted the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. "What...what are you waiting for?" he stammered. "Kill me now and grant me the honor of dying in battle!"
GC's figure remained motionless for a moment, but then he shook his head slowly. "No..." he proclaimed, articulating every word carefully. "No, you will not die, die as a heroic warrior and martyr." GC raise his head to the heavens, and the volume of his voice increased, as if he were calling out to the gods themselves. "No, you will live, live as a loyal citizen and servant of the new Empire, my new Empire!"
And thus the reign of the Emperor Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus began.
End of Game Roster Edit
- sparrowhawk - Cleopatra - Lynched D5
- IDNE - Julia - Killed N4
- JS - Cicero - Lynched D1
- Einkil- Cassius - Killed N5
- Dawg - Servilia - Killed N2
- GC - Pompey
- seahorse - Lepidus
- Surge - Octavian - Killed N6
- Prof. Templeton - Mark Antony - Lynched D4
- LIS - Julius Caesar - Killed N4
- rossbeemer - Brutus - Lynched D6
- Syn - Calpurnia
- Fox - Crassus - Lynched D3, sided with Ceasar
- ST - Casca - Killed N2
|List of actions|
Night 1, Player, Role, Money, Actions
Night 2, Player, Role, Money, Actions
Night 3, Player, Role, Money, Actions
Night 5, Player, Role, Money, Actions
Night 6, Player, Role, Money, Actions
Night 7, Player, Role, Money, Actions
Ending Player, Role, Money