Howl Werewolf Flood

He had a good thing going for him. His character was growing! "You! In the writing room. Yes. We have articles!" He huffed, rubbing his temples. Don't think about the others. They don't matter. They're different now. "And by Monday!

He was talking to the boy like the boss he was. What bugged him was truth that he couldn't channel this character into his timid normal life.

Another girl across the circle droned on, backing Anatole up. He didn't know her except from seeing her in Defense Against the Dark Arts, yet he was happy someone decided to take his side for once. "Thank you!" Anatole proclaimed to the girl with a jovial clap. "And as for that evidence...I, well, there's been footprints here and there, and readers have sent in their own files of evidence, but there's a frightening chance it's actually plausible! I hope it's all a myth in the end...maybe someone faked it! Yeah!" Here's where the dramatic irony would play in, once his character discovered there were in fact Werewolves running rampant!

"In regard to voting, it's all too swift to judge. I can't stand to see another obituary in the paper this early. Hence, I abstain."

"There have been lots of foot prints. Since my job is to study wildlife and plant life I had already seen those myself, but I would advise you to not go out after the moon comes up. There may actually be werewolves." The brunette said to Anatole. This was a perplexing mystery. She had heard howls at night, but what if those were just wolves? Anyways she needed to do more research, but it was getting a bit dark. Almost nighttime. 

The votes are in:

• Ami Procoppio x1
• Emma Hill x2
• Anatole Evans x1
• Amadea Campbell x1

 Emma Hill was sentenced to die.

There was a small chance that they would kill the were, but there was a 100% chance that tonight unless the wolf slumbered that an innocent villager would die. Some were not willing to bloody their hands, despite knowing that someone was going to die tonight. Taking a line from Spock himself Solomon stated in passing: "The needs of the many outweigh that of the few."

Solomon drew his wand of aspen wood and phoenix feather and pointed it at Miss Hill. "Emma Hill, the good people of Hogwarts sentence you to death on suspicion of being a were. And it is my somber duty to render judgement..." Solomon took a deep breath through his potato nose and upon exhale stated a single word. "Rictusempra." Better known as the tickle charm, Solomon flicked his wrist and the terrible charm was cast. 

The girl would likely buckle from laughter. And the terrible spell would persist, the cruelest of spells if one thought about it. "The were lives still," Solomon proclaimed. His wand still drawn as he cast another charm and the setting became as dark as tar. "And darkness is upon you." Solomon would await the were's target, the Seer's vision and the potion master's patient. The unfortunate dead's wails would fill the night with a terrible sound (laughter).

It is dark -- feel free to dramatically enact your own death.
Feel free to RP being left in the dark.
Weres, send me your vote if you have not already. Remember to do this in my owl box or DM box. 
Seer, tell me your target if you have not already. Remember to do this in my owl box or DM box.
Potion Master, tell me who you are going to save. Remember to do this in my owl box or DM box.
You have 2 days to vote. Otherwise your chance to vote will be lost!

Emma knew it was coming before night had fallen. She had no idea what would be used to enact her 'death', but whatever it was, she was worried. In her very first year, she had never had a spell used against her. As the spell was cast against her, her eyes widened. No matter what she had said during the game, it didn't matter. 

"Rictusempra."

As the silver light darted towards her she took one last breath, unaware of the upcoming events. She grabbed her stomach as an invisible hand tickled her every spot imaginable. It was just as bad as the Killing Curse, well, so she thought. Her stomach hurled from the laughter and soon she fell off her seat. Low-pitched laughter erupted from her mouth as she hugged her stomach, trying to prevent the hand from getting to her. 

At this point, she could have cared less if the weres won. She would have liked it that way, at least she'd rub it into Aurelia's face.

Eri was a bit shock that he used the tickling curse to reenact death. She had that curse used against her and it was not fun. Then the darkness happened. It was a bit suddenly that it shocked her. But nonetheless a were was still out there. Which was a bit concerning because now it was nightime and the were could strike. 

Well, closing your eyes had the same effect, right? It was almost like night...totally...

Whoever the special roles were, they were especially good at keeping their decisions quiet. He heard no rustling or shoving from nearby. It was flawless, wasn't it? The game was played so well...and this was only the first night!

This extra time gave the boy time to contemplate the sometimes overdramatic events that occurred today. From now on, his mind no longer thought in names but in images: well-painted portraits of each character beside him. Each held their own quirks.

The awfully brutal murder that occurred at sunset held his attention as he kept his eyes bolted shut. Tickling! That sounded worse than a guillotine. Embarrassing, also. Anatole knew from Tag that getting hit with a spell like that was painful in a different sense than most.

But...what was she? Could they have let the farmer die in vain? Was she a wolf, or was she an innocent woman? What was racing through her mind as those votes were cast? Well, Anatole's journalist, whoever he was, should have known the answers.

Those answers would have to wait for another day.

Midas looked on with bleak eyes as he watched the girl get killed - sorry,  tickled. He closed his eyes,  and lowered his head in respect. At least,  that was what the others thought. He was actually observing the facts. A probably innocent girl was voted off by others. Right now,  the most suspicious people were Eri and Aurelia,  whom had voted someone to death for not a really legitatmite reason supported by evidence. He marked this down on his pad,  and looked around some more. It was the night phase,  and tonight someone would possibly die. He slowly walked around,  looking at others, right before night fell. Someone was going to die,  and Midas was going to find something out for the sake of the town. 

Night fell. Aurelia hung her head and cupped her two hands over her eyes. She waited, there was surely on or two who would be dead by the time the sun rose again. They would be eliminated from the game. Then she heard a scream - more like laughter. It was tickling. Emma Hill had been 'killed'. She was voted out, which meant the wolf had not attack during the night. The game continued. Emma wasn't the wolf, she was either an innocent villager or a superior potioneer or a seer.

The sun rose again, or at least Aurelia had removed her hands from her eyes. Aurelia glanced towards Emma and mouthed the word 'sorry'. She sincerely was. The tickling spell was worse than Flipendo. It had been only a round and the girl had been eliminated from the game just because she had gotten two votes. It was the game of Werewolf and it was inevitable that someone would die during a round.

Aurelia narrowed her eyes slightly at the potion professor's direction. He had put his vote on Ami during the last round and accused her once more even when she said her role was an organist at the church. Aurelia pointed her finger towards the elf.

"Yes, we all know that werewolves may not ever enter such a holy premises like the church. But the lady there," Aurelia gestured towards Ami, extending her arm in the direction.

"Had said she played the organ in the chapel. I believe her. I religiously attend the church every Sunday and would see her sitting by the organ and playing. I also would see the priestess there too."

"Whereas you, Who would believe the words coming from a beggar? One who would sit by the streets and can't even afford a roof to shelter from the rain or protect from the dark of night." Aurelia felt slightly uneasy accusing a professor, especially not one who was the gryffindor head of house.

"Just wondering, how do you hide from werewolves without a roof to stay under? Its obvious you wouldn't have enough money to even buy even a measly butterknife from my shop to defend yourself. Or... Are you a werewolf yourself? " She asked.

ACTIONS: Accuse Valtome

Amadea tried to hide her gasp of shock as Emma was sentenced to death by Rictumsempra. She shivered involuntarily. This game would spare no one, and it didn't wait for anyone. Death by tickling seemed worse than just regular death. Amadea had to stay alert. Otherwise she might miss something important. She really didn't want to die. 

As night fell, Amadea cupped her eyes and waited for the outcome. She wondered who was going to be sentenced to death next. She wondered if they would be saved. She hoped the Potions Master knew what they were doing; maybe it was Valtome. That would be reassuring. Maybe he would be able to save everyone. Then again, maybe Valtome wasn't the Potions Master.

She wondered about Emma. Had she held a special role in the game? Was she the seer? A villager? Perhaps even the werewolf? Amadea was not sure, and was not going to make any assumptions. She waited for the night to end, thoughts swirling around in her head. This game was messing with her thoughts and logic process, but one thought played on repeat throughout her mind as she tried to make deductions. I don't want to die. 

Oh, how the dark was lovely. Cupping her hands over her eyes, Ami embraced the darkness, waiting for the werewolf to make their move. She had been sad to see Emma go, especially when they found out that she wasn't even the werewolf in the first place. Maybe... maybe they shouldn't vote. Not just yet.

Daybreak arrived, and Aurelia the blacksmith defended Ami against Valtome, the sassy beggar, which was totally cool of her. Yes, organ power! Uniting people through the holy church... or whatever... is there a term for it?

Maybe there was a term, not that Ami would know of it. But, glancing around the circle, no one seemed guilty. She had voiced her suspicions about the bartender earlier but hadn't acted upon them, not yet, at least...

Who would die that night? The question was at the forefront of everyone's minds, and they would have to wait for Professor Lear to announce the results.