“And the Shadow fell upon the Land, and the World was riven stone from stone.
The oceans fled, and the mountains were swallowed up, and the nations were scattered to the eight corners of the World.
The moon was as blood, and the sun was as ashes.
The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead.
All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World.
And him they named Dragon.”
- The Breaking of the World. Author Unknown.
-
The air turned to fire, the fire to light liquefied. The bolt that struck from the heavens would have seared and blinded any eye that glimpsed it, even for an instant. From the heavens it came, blazed through Lews Therin Telamon, bored into the bowels of the earth. Stone turned to vapor at its touch. The earth thrashed and quivered like a living thing in agony. Only a heartbeat did the shining bar exist, connecting ground and sky, but even after it vanished the earth yet heaved like the sea in a storm. Molten rock fountained five hundred feet into the air, and the groaning ground rose, thrusting the burning spray ever upward, ever higher. From north and south, from east and west, the wind howled in, snapping trees like twigs, shrieking and blowing as if to aid the growing mountain ever skyward. Ever skyward. At last the wind died, the earth stilled to trembling mutters. Of Lews Therin Telamon, no sign remained. Where he had stood a mountain now rose miles into the sky, molten lava still gushing from its broken peak. The broad, straight river had been pushed into a curve away from the mountain, and there it split to form a long island in its midst. The shadow of the mountain almost reached the island; it lay dark across the land like the ominous hand of prophecy. For a time the dull, protesting rumbles of the earth were the only sound.
On the island, the air shimmered and coalesced. The black-clad man stood staring at the fiery mountain rising out of the plain. His face twisted in rage and contempt. "You cannot escape so easily, Dragon. It is not done between us. It will not be done until the end of time."
Then he was gone, and the mountain and the island stood alone. Waiting.
-
“And it came to pass in those days, as it had come before and would come again,
that the Dark lay heavy on the land and weighed down the hearts of men, and the green things failed, and hope died.
And men cried out to the Creator, saying, O Light of the Heavens, Light of the World, let the Promised One be born of the mountain,
according to the prophecies, as he was in ages past and will be in ages to come.
Let the Prince of the Morning sing to the land that green things will grow and the valleys give forth lambs.
Let the arm of the Lord of the Dawn shelter us from the Dark, and the great sword of justice defend us.
Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.”
- The Cycle of the Dragon. Author Unknown.
(from Eye of the World - Prologue)
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose around Dragonmount. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
The wind swirled around the broken peak and blew down the steep slopes towards the island. It headed across the river and over the tall, alabaster walls and through the magnificent streets of Tar Valon. South it went, past the spire known as the White Tower and over the ships docked in the cities southern harbour. Following the river Erinin, it headed towards the nation of Andor. Through the trees of the Braem Wood it headed, past the town of New Braem and towards the gleaming silver white walls of Caemlyn.
At the southwest gate, a large queue waited along the road. Grimm stood guard outside the gates along the long, thin mass of people. Guard duty on this gate was always reminiscent; it reminded him of the day he travelled the road himself, on his way here from his homeland of Murandy.
Shuffling through the gates, the queue always contained an interesting array of people. He saw a Domani peddler woman, driving her wagon through the gate. She wore a scandalous dress, a tight fitting garment that was almost translucent! He supposed it was typical Domani dress, from what he had heard, and he didn’t want to stop her. She gave him a seductive look in the eye as she passed. Female Domani merchants were renowned for their bargaining prowess.
More people passed by. A strange man, in farmer’s woolens came by. He smelled of sheep. Trying to keep his head down, he seemed to Grimm to be a little suspicious. He put his hand up to the young lad, asked him his name.
“Ulven, sir. Just a sheepherder, sir.” The boy shifted his feet nervously. “Just heading in to get some things. And to see the execution, sir.”
Grimm supposed that most of these people had travelled to see the execution. He’d heard it was of some infamous rebel, who was important enough to have the Queen attend his execution personally. A man further down the queue caught his eye, though Grimm was sure he caught everybody’s eye. On top of a black and white striped Razor, the famed Arad Domani horse breed, sat a coppery skinned tinker. He looked nonchalant, as many of the travellers stared at his brightly coloured outfit. Reds and greens and blues and yellows all fought for space on his coat. He let the man continue through the gate. It was an unusual sight, to see a Tinker in the city. Grimm guessed the man needed something, or was going to try to convert children to the Way of the Leaf. The foolish philosophy of theirs. He certainly wouldn’t be going to the execution; a ceremony in direct contrast to his silly pacifistic beliefs.
“Your shift is over, Grimm. Been a long day, eh? Have a drink on me, and maybe I’ll see you later!”
A pleasant surprise. Maybe Grimm could go see this execution in his time off.
-
Ishtar kept stirring the soup with the wooden spoon. She seemed to be getting the hang of cooking our dishes. You didn’t really see any Aiel on this side of the Spine of the World. Not since the Aiel War 20 years ago. Adaham, the Innkeep who gave her work when she came to Caemlyn, walked in to the kitchens.
“Sera, hurry up! We haven’t got all day!”, he bellowed. Sera started in surprise, and her pace quickened. “There are some people here who want to have their lunch before the execution. And I wouldn’t mind going myself.” He turned around and went through the door to talk to customers. Sera picked up the plates and hurried out. The room was full today, people from near and far all coming here to see the execution, and wanting to have a drink and a meal beforehand too.
“Give me your trust, said the queen on her throne
For I must bear the burden all alone
Trust me to know, and to judge, and to rule
And no man will think you a fool.
But trust is the sound of a grave-dog's bark,
Trust is the sound of betrayal in the dark,
Trust is the sound of a soul's last breath,
Trust is the sound of death.”
The women finished the song, the Colour of Trust, to applause from the drunken patrons. She was a gleeman named Andahar, and she was a talented girl. And quite pretty. Her golden hair and brown eyes were not a combination often seen in Andor. Quite a mysterious woman she was; she wore a transparent veil over her face in the Taraboner fashion and wore a typically clingy gown. Sera guessed that that attracted the men as much as her songs did, if not more. She continued to the table in the corner, where there were a few men playing dice.
Xardob, a Mayener who had been staying at the inn the last few days, was sitting at the table she was attending. He was quite vocal, and always had an interesting story to tell about his travels. He was dicing with some other men as they waited and talked. One was a wide-shouldered man, a blacksmith she heard, who wore a long beard that left the upper lip bare in the Illianer fashion. The other man was a Tairen. Apparently he was a thatcher, but what he was doing in Caemlyn she had no idea. He wore one of those silly flat-topped straw hats she heard they wore in Tear. She put the food down at the table and continued doing her job, hoping she could maybe catch the execution later.
-
Iridor was walking through the streets. The execution interested him and he wanted to see it. He’d never seen one before! Walking through the streets, he liked to keep out of sight of people. He only had his bag, and he wanted to keep it. Nobody could be bad to you if they couldn’t see you. Always keeping his eyes peeled, they darted back and forth around the street as he walked towards the Palace.
To the left he saw Maevah’s herb shop. His mother used to go there for things; when she was alive, that is. The Wisdom seemed like a nice woman, from what he could tell. Further down the boulevard, he smelled the fish before he could see the stall. Iridor didn’t know the woman serving at the stall, but he could have guessed that she was the daughter of the fisherman who lived in the house behind the stall. She certainly looked like him. His father used to talk to the fisherman. Closer to his destination he saw a tall building that had a wondrous variety of clothing sat on a stall at it’s front. The seamstress was a woman new to the city, so he didn’t know of her. She had a sharp gaze, but all the Illianers he had seen looked like that.
Entering through the gate into the Inner City, one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen. He was getting closer to the execution that he so desperately wanted to see. And nobody would mind one child among the many, would they?
-
Melara rushed about, ordering her maids to clean this room and wash these clothes that the place would be so busy today? Certainly, the disappearance of the Daughter-Heir would have lended to it, but she saw no need to rush about on the day of the execution. She wanted to see it too, not that she was interested in that kind of thing. Today was a one off! The Queen was definitely shaken by the disappearance of her daughter last night, but Melara doubted she would let that show the public. The Queen was a strong woman. Melara hurried through the Palace.
The Queen, with the Rose Crown upon her head, stood in the throne room with her advisor, an Aes Sedai named Alanna. She was a young woman, and she didn’t appear to have the ageless look on her face as Aes Sedai normally did. Melara had heard she was newly raised to the shawl, and was sent here to aid the Queen. Apparently Alanna had the talent of Foretelling, and that seemed like it could be of great use. Either way, Melara decided to follow the Queen outside, to the square where the ceremony would take place.
She took a spot at a balcony where she could see the courtyard clearly. The Queen moved out through a door further along the building on to a wide platform above the square. Her appearance was greeted with rapturous applause. The Queen began the ceremony with a few words delivered loudly and clearly. With a little aid from her advisor, of course. She pointed to one side of the square, to a large wooden door that opened silently. A man trudged along in chains, between the mass of two fully armoured guards, towards the contraption in the center of the courtyard. He was knocked down onto his knees and position over the contraption, his neck bared for the blade to swipe through. A bucket was placed at the other side.
“People of Caemlyn”, the Queen spoke and more applause, “I will make this quick. This man does not deserve the respect of a long speech. I sentence this man, Rathyr, to death for conspiring against the Crown, and for the crime of being a Darkfriend.” More cheers rang out in the crowd. She signalled to the man besides the contraption. With one movement of his arm, he set the machine into motion. The blade dropped. The blood flowed.
Suddenly, Alanna screamed. She writhed in pain, as if she was the recipient of hideous torture. Her face contorted, but she raised her voice high as she began to speak.
“Darkness. Darkness all around us! They are here. Chains shattered, nations crumbling. The Forsaken are loose! Light Save Us All!”. She howled again, head facing towards the blue of the sky. “Prince of the Morning, our saviour is here. O Light! O Light, the Promised One is here! In his hands he holds the fate of Andor, and the rest of the world itself. He is here, and he will save us. The Dragon rides again! Let tears flow, O ye people of the Andor. Weep for your salvation, lest he break the world once more!”.
Chaos broke loose in the crowds.
And with that, Alanna collapsed. Melara rushed through the door and the corridors and around to where the Queen of standing. She stood there in shock, looking down at the unmoving body of Alanna. Mouth moving silently at her dead advisor. Melara quickly called for help through the corridors. The Queen regrouped, and began to address the crowds.
“My people!”, she called and order was quickly established, as the worried looks turned to the Queen. “These are desperate times. There are Darkfriends at work, like Rathyr, and they plan to destroy us all. Caemlyn shall shut it’s gates for the forseeable future. Nobody is allowed in, and certainly nobody is allowed out. We must work together to root them out, and Caemlyn’s gates will not re-open until I am sure that we have rid the city of filth!”
A cheer rang out from the crowd, before they all began milling back to their work, their drinks or their wives. These were dangerous times and everyone was as cautious as they were shocked at what they had just witnessed. A sign of the end times, it seems, and they had to prepare for it. After all, this was exactly what some people were waiting for...
-
“The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow.
Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.”
Disclaimer: While the narration was not entirely random, the only plot point that was set in stone prior to the role randomisation was the execution of Rathyr. Everything has just been written off the top of my head right this minute. Thus what was written about players in this narration are purely fluff and will have no impact on their role during the game.
PS Sorry if it's long winded. I got carried away. A bit like Robert Jordan, I guess.
TL;DR Bad guy got executed. Magic Woman had a intense Foretelling of the end of the world. She died. Crowd shat themselves. Queen shut the gates. Exterminatus Darkfriendus is go.
Terminology:
- The Wheel of Time creates the pattern, which is the game, that is made up of threads, which are the players.
- Magic in this game is called the One Power. It has a male half and a female half, saidin and saidar respectively. A player with the ability to use the One Power is said to be able to channel, and is thus a channeling character. The act of using magic is called Channeling. 'Weaves' are the names given to spells performed in this theme. Here are a list of weaves that may or may not be in the game. Just as a male channeler cannot channel, or even sense, saidar, a female channeler cannot channel or sense saidin.
- When a player is killed, their thread is removed from the pattern. A player’s soul is connected to their thread in the pattern, rather than their physical body.
- The Wolves' Faction in this game are called the Shadow, who are followers of the Dark One. People who serve the Dark One are named Darkfriends. It is said that in the Trolloc Wars, 1000 years ago, there were channelers who served the Dark One, and they were named Dreadlords.
If you have any questions, PM me and I will update this section.
Rules:
Adapted from both Kronic and Nipplemelter (who modified them from Catholic, who adapted them from Quailover who adapted them from Xardob who borrowed them from Adaham, who borrowed them Ejnomad).
General Gameplay and Etiquette:
- You may NOT quote private Moderator-supplied information (either real or fabricated) of any kind.
- There is NO editing or removing of your posts. Please use the preview feature before you post.
- There is to be NO personal communication outside of the game thread, unless your role specifically allows it.
- If you have a role with a Night Action your choices are due to me by the posted deadline. If I do not receive your choice via PM by the posted deadline you will forfeit your actions.
- As a general rule you should aim for one post every 24 hours, minimum, to keep the game moving. If you continuously show lack of appropriate activity, even after being prodded, then I will either smite or replace you.
Rules violations will be dealt with according to their severity, up to and being snipped from the pattern (read: modkilled).
Voting, Deadlines, and Player Death:
- A simple majority of all living members must agree on one person for a Lynch to occur (simple majority = ½ # of living players +1, rounded down).
- Votes should be bolded or they may not be counted (e.g. vote: PlayerName).
- Vote revocations should be bolded or they may not be counted (e.g. Unvote: Player or Unvote). For my sake, please unvote first before voting. It makes it easier.
- You may Vote: No Lynch - a simple majority of these vote types are required to send the game to Night Phase without a Lynch.
- Votes/Unvotes that are bolded correctly and are unambiguous (with respect to player nicknames/abbreviations) will count.
- If no one has reached a majority of votes at deadline, a No Lynch will occur. In some cases a forced lynch may occur, in which the deadline with be extended though this is unlikely.
- Once you have reached a simple majority no further unvoting will change someone’s fate.
- Once a player is lynched the game enters twilight until I post a narration; the lynched player may not post during twilight but all other living players may continue to post.
- Once you are killed (you will be notified by PM) you may no longer post except for a brief “Bah!”-type post.
- I will NOT give a deadline on the 1st Day Phase, but if activity is inadequate, then I will have to enforce a strict deadline that you all may or may not like. If this occurs, I will post deadlines for every subsequent Day Phase.
- There will be a strict 3 day deadline for every Night Phase.
Role Claims:
- You may only roleclaim (real or not) in situations where considered tactful by the Mod. Unnecessary claims will be punished.
- The only roleclaim that can be made at any time in the game is that of the Dragon Reborn. Any male player may claim this role.
- Role PMs have a standardised format. The format is thus:
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- You may not copy and paste any of the Role PM. Your claim must be paraphrased. As the name of roles are full of flavour, you are urged to avoid claiming with your Role Name to stop this from becoming a claim-fest. If this game does devolve into a claim-fest, I will punish players and send the game to the next Night Phase with a No Lynch.
Mechanics:
- You may receive an injury. Two injuries equals a death; injuries heal after two nights.
- Some roles may be insane, which will affect the role to some degree.
- The Town wins when there are no players of the Shadow remaining.
- The Shadow wins when they consist of the majority of the players and the Dragon Reborn is dead.
- There may be other factions in this game.
Important - You are NOT allowed to communicate with anyone relating to the game once you are dead unless specified by PM or until the game has ended. However, you may PM me with a message that is to be sent to another dead player, and I will forward it (and remove anything potentially game spoiling).
Misc:
- If you have an issue/problem with the game, please PM the Mod privately. Do not post issues/complaints in the game thread.
- The Mod may make mistakes - please point out any mistakes gently. Mistakes will be corrected where possible, but sometimes mistakes are made that cannot be reversed. These will stand as final to be commiserated over after the game. (This is the first Werewolf I've hosted).
- Night Actions are done in the order in which I receive the PMs.
- If you anticipate being unavailable for more than a 48-hour period please post a notice to that effect in the thread. Treat this game as a commitment. Be considerate – don’t leave us hanging.
The Golden Rule:
Remember to have fun! This is game, so try to hold back personal insults and just try to be respectful in general.
Your first post should include a vote.
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Important Dates:
Day 1 Deadline - 16th August, 20:00 GMT.
Night 1 Deadline - 19th August, 20:00 GMT.
Day 2 Deadline - 27th August, 20:00 GMT.
Night 2 Deadline - 31th August, 20:00 GMT.
Day 3 Deadline - 6th September, 22:00 GMT.
Night 3 Deadline - 9th September, 20:00 GMT.
Day 5 Deadline - 28th September, 22:00 GMT.
Night 5 Deadline - 1st October, 20:00 GMT.
Day 6 Deadline - 11th October, 22:00 GMT.
Night 6 Deadline - 16th October, 22:00 GMT.
Day 7 Deadline - 25th October, 22:00 GMT.
Night 7 Deadline - 28th October, 22:00 GMT.
Day 8 Deadline - 11th November, 20:00 GMT.
Night 8 Deadline - 14th November, 20:00 GMT.
Night 9 Deadline - 22th November, 20:00 GMT.
Night 10 Deadline - 28th November, 22:00 GMT.
