Lycanthropy Werewolf Flood

A quiet group, they were not doing much here for whatever reason. "Nightfall is coming," Solomon reminded them. Nobody had made any votes, meaning that the votes would come down to whoever bothers to say anything. IF anyone says anything.

Posting night in a few hours guys.

Oliver looked at Annabelle, she was definitely taking lead, everyone was waiting for everyone and he was waiting for an accusation to go. Asking for the potions master, was this a trap? He couldn't tell. Did the werewolves even do anything? There was a couple of players who seemed disconnected from the game. He exhaled quietly, there was nothing to go on. "I think we need to start interrogating or something, at this rate of information collection, those of us more connected with clues will be dying faster than we can figure stuff out," Oliver told. He was a tad scared this would seem like a werewolf tactic, but it wasn't, he just knew Annabelle would likely die tonight, and she probably had most information. The werewolves were in an extreme advantage if they could hide amongst the silence.
In saying all this, Oliver's cheeks were pink as he spoke in the direction of Annabelle.

Annabelle looked around helplessly. Why was nobody moving? What was going on? The entire group seemed to have fallen completely silent. Nobody was dead, and yet... the scene was as still as the grave. She sat back in her chair, quivering slightly. Must stay in character... must be brave... Yet the uneasy silence did not lift. A horrible fear flooded through her- was this the game, or something else? Was some magical occurrence keeping her fellow students still and silent. The only one who seemed to be alive was Professor Lear...

This seemed to be an opportunity. Seconds were left, and nobody had voted. If she wanted, she could kill off anyone. Of course, that meant she would likely die the next day... or night if someone struck. But they hadn't the night before. Annabelle shivered. How long had this been going on? Lear had offered several options as to why nobody had died... Potions Master? Maybe. No wolf? She sincerely doubted it. What if simply nobody had voted- wolf or town. What if there was more to this frozen landscape than just a bunch of inactive players.

"Professor Lear..." she asked in a quiet voice. "Why is nobody talking?"

Suddenly Oliver spoke up! Relief washed over the girl's face. So they weren't frozen after all. She looked over at him. "That's the problem. Out of character, we know there's a werewolf among us. But nobody has died yet... I don't know what questions to ask. There's no crime to investigate... There's only one role who would even know anything besides the potion master and that's the Seer. I'm probably gonna die tonight but it would be really great if one of those people would speak up! She called the last few words loudly to the group. Why is everyone so quiet?

[Lycanthropy]
1.) Oliver Hart
2.) Alaska Remillae
3.) Mary Brown
4.) Phaedra Stavrou
5.) Celynne Flores
6.) Reid Kovacs
7.) Annabelle Wolfe
8.) Frost Cira
9.) Ava Silver
10.) Paracelsus Myth
11.) Bloom Silverton

Day would come to an end and it would be time to render judgement. Strangely enough nobody was talking. Nobody was discussing. Nobody was being sent to the gallows. Solomon's mouth cocked to the side. What was wrong with these kids? It was as if they had all went and took a nap in the middle of the game right after they signed up.

Right now Oliver and Annabelle had all of the power. The ability to send anyone they wanted to their death, but they weren't. Their inaction here would have assured their victory if they were weres. Their action here, if villagers had a meager chance of catching the wolf. There was no reason to not vote, but again nobody voted.

Maybe these kids were not interested in the game.

Solomon would let out a disapointed sigh and with a bored voice he would announce simply. "Darkness comes, the wolves will hunt on this night," he warned. Of course at this rate there was a good chance that he would get nothing from the wolves like the villagers.

Weird set of kids.

Were(s) pick your victim and contact me.
Potion Master tell me who you wish to save.
Seer who do you wish to know more about.

Wolves will hunt... there must be a wolf, mustn't there? There was no doubt in Annabelle's mind that she would die tonight. Lear still seemed frustrated that nobody was voting, even though they had evrey logical reason not to with nobody having died. But why had everyone been so quiet? If she didn't die, what should she do? If she and Oliver were really the only ones not zombified, they could theoretically win just by voting everyone else to death... But what if he was a wolf? If they worked together to eliminate everyone else, she would die the last night and the werewolves would win! None of that would matter though if she died tonight. Keeping her eyes fast shut, she whispered to Oliver. "If you're a wolf, turn me tonight. Nobody else is doing anything. As long as we're on the same side, we can win this thing... and if you'r not, then great. We can vote tomorrow." She still didn't want to kill off innocent villagers, but what else could they do? They'd just have to win by process of elimination. This was a game after all. When daytime came, the monster hunter was going to go crazy.

Oliver sat with his eyes closed, and in the silence of the artificial night, he reached into a cotton bag hanging from his chair and withdrew some chocolate, ever so slowly unwrapping it and slipping it into his mouth. It was only when he begun devouring the treat that he hear Annabelle and nearly choked. Once he got a hold on himself, he couldn't even answer her because he still had a mouthful of chocolate.
He went over it in his head. She was convicting him of being a werewolf, which was not good. Yet he was the only other to speak so surely she would have done it to anyone. Really, she was doubting their village which in this case, Oliver was too. Was this a tactic of a minion? No. It seemed like she just really wanted to win. At the same time, Oliver was beginning to trust her.
Oliver momentarily thought about how Annabelle was a monster hunter as he gorged on his chocolate. Wouldn't she hunt herself if she was a werewolf? Before his mind could get too into it, he swallowed the chocolate down and whispered," sorry," quickly, unsure if they were allowed talk during night and a tad scared. He was also very nervous for a girl like Annabelle to suggest partnering up with him.

Sorry? What did he mean by that? Perhaps he was nervous about speaking up during the nighttime phase, as is the wolf might hear him and suddenly change their mind as to who they wanted to kill. Anna, of course, still felt that she if anyone was likely to be the next victim. But what did "sorry" mean? Was he sorry because he was the wolf and was going to kill her tonight? Or was he sorry because he did not want to team up with her for some reason. Anna couldn't see why not, they were the only two speaking after all. She could hear voices echoing from the surrounding groups- talking at night didn't seem to be an issue. Talking at all didn't seem to be an issue outside of her own set of players, yet they still refused to speak. She sighed. "Sorry? What do you mean?" She hoped he wasn't a werewolf. In her monster-hunter character she would surely prefer to remain unturned... Still, out of character she wanted to win. And she supposed a hunter-turned-werewolf would still very much enjoy the hunt.

"Time is almost up!" Solomon reminded the students. Someone was going to die very very soon. Well, probably. Well, maybe. Well, we will just have to see.

"I'm not a werewolf and I can't turn you," Oliver whispered very quietly, leaning towards the sound of Annabelle. His palms were getting a bit sweaty, but then he cleared his throat and breathed. A thieving robber wouldn't be scared to talk to a girl, so neither should he.
He wondered, if Annabelle was talking to him at night, was she in his house? Or perhaps, he was in her house in the midst or robbing something. And whilst taking one of her crossbows or muggle boxes, she came only with the urgency of fear of death.
Oliver doubted it though. If she could kill monsters, he was sure she'd be hardened enough to kill him on sight in her home at night, uninvited. Oliver concluded that this conversation would be hard to carry into an in-character point of view.

Annabelle nodded. "Alright, good." She hadn't wanted to be a werewolf anyway. Still, she could not help but feel nervous. Would she die tonight? Would Oliver? Was the wolf somewhere among them, hunting but remaining silent? If that was the case it was very unlikely that they would win without the aid of the rest of the town, even if they were working together. Annabelle imagined her late-night discussion with the thief, her experienced eyes never fully leaving him for fear that he would betray her. In her mind she still held a crossbow with a silver bolt at the window. If a wolf did come, she was prepared (but not really.)