• Welcome to The Cave of Dragonflies forums, where the smallest bugs live alongside the strongest dragons.

    Guests are not able to post messages or even read certain areas of the forums. Now, that's boring, don't you think? Registration, on the other hand, is simple, completely free of charge, and does not require you to give out any personal information at all. As soon as you register, you can take part in some of the happy fun things at the forums such as posting messages, voting in polls, sending private messages to people and being told that this is where we drink tea and eat cod.

    Of course I'm not forcing you to do anything if you don't want to, but seriously, what have you got to lose? Five seconds of your life?

knives alley hydra mafia

1a1486e691e30806268ece830272e7e353926dd0.jpg

look at this photograph
 
feh the owl said:
me, clinging to your ankle: promise me... promise me you're not mafia...
Click to expand...
promise :)

anyhow this might be DADV in which case we are kinda screwed but i feel like it could be a hit?
i don't knowwwww
i think staying the course is better here though
anyhow hopefully it's a hit, if it's not we might be dead in the night
 
the day had barely started when keith’s voice echoed across the alley. one by one, curious heads peeked out of windows like pigeons in a doocot. some were clattering in fear of the inevitable bloodspill; others pulled up a chair to indulge in the amusement of the drama of life. little by little, they fished words out of the confusion of yells and noises, hoping to piece together whatever could be understood — but it wasn’t until keith dragged stryke out of the house by the collar in a mixture of hatred and indignance that people started realizing what that meant. tears streamed constantly out of stryke’s eyes, begging for forgiveness, for understanding of how he saw himself forced to do what he had to. if people were between fearful and amused, now they were irate. the mob soon formed around stryke, who, overriden by guilt, little did to defend himself. keith pulled himself away, crying silent tears of horror and misanthropy.

the strength of one’s mind, however, is only as powerful as the survival instinct allows.

when the realization of life’s end finally sunk into stryke, he was overridden with despair. in a hopeless frenzy, he flailed, trying and failing to bring himself up. instinctively, he reached for his belt.

the boom of a gunshot echoed. in the matter of a split second, yells turned into screaming and the crowd dispersed, revealing sanderidge’s lifeless body bleeding on the pavement. stryke managed to get up, his face full of fear, gun in hand, helplessly stunned in confusion as if he were poisoned. to everybody’s shock, taking advantage of his lethargy, ephemera approached him from behind and clocked him in the head with a metal rod. his eyes turning, he fell limply on the ground, joining his last victim on their deathbed.

after that horrifying week, peace seemed to be restored on the alley. but despite there not being more killings, is it really peace when everyone’s illusion of safety has been completely shattered? is it really peace when you can’t properly sleep in the night fearing death’s inevitable silent scythe? from the shadows, a figure still lurked in expectation. the grin on their face wasn’t any less toothy.

this being said, the city’s bloodlust is only as vicious as its regeneration is powerful. that same day, keith moved in with ephemera in mutual support. despite the violence, the vacant houses were soon leased to new tenants. despite everything, life marches on, and the city machine keeps on chugging, eating blood and spitting progress.

sanderidge died. they were town.
stryke died. he was mafia.

game over. town wins!

all players will be added to the graveyard chat in a few minutes. rolecards and postgame thoughts will be posted soon.
stay tuned for knifes valley 2: electric boogaloo
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom