At first, things seem to be looking up for the innocents. Several members, believing they notice a pattern, are quick to point fingers at Kratos Aurion. At last, a concrete suspicion! With reasoning behind it!
Their optimism is short lived. Kratos Aurion draws in a deep, deep breath--and launches a tirade that leaves even the most lynch-happy among their number quivering in fear. Suddenly, no one seems quite ready to nominate him for death.
The subdued crowd drags its feet, its members conversing as little as possible. Time ticks past, however, the sun passing its zenith and sinking towards the horizon: someone must die, and if the innocents want to have any say in the matter, they'd best express their suspicions soon.
At last the tension is too much for Zora of Termina to take. "Screw it! Loco Mocho's mafia, I know he is!" she cries, falling upon the snoozing player and throttling him with her bare hands. The other players are, naturally, a bit taken aback by this behavior, but it all happens so fast--there's no time for voting, no time for measured discussion; before they can do anything at all, Loco Mocho's costume is fading away to reveal...
Loco Mocho is dead. He was mafia.
About sixty hours for night actions.
Their optimism is short lived. Kratos Aurion draws in a deep, deep breath--and launches a tirade that leaves even the most lynch-happy among their number quivering in fear. Suddenly, no one seems quite ready to nominate him for death.
The subdued crowd drags its feet, its members conversing as little as possible. Time ticks past, however, the sun passing its zenith and sinking towards the horizon: someone must die, and if the innocents want to have any say in the matter, they'd best express their suspicions soon.
At last the tension is too much for Zora of Termina to take. "Screw it! Loco Mocho's mafia, I know he is!" she cries, falling upon the snoozing player and throttling him with her bare hands. The other players are, naturally, a bit taken aback by this behavior, but it all happens so fast--there's no time for voting, no time for measured discussion; before they can do anything at all, Loco Mocho's costume is fading away to reveal...
Loco Mocho is dead. He was mafia.
About sixty hours for night actions.