Thread:Rocketlauncher22/@comment-29711200-20160922031821/@comment-27022343-20161130230315

5 Short Role Stories, by Qmanthegamer... Let's begin.

The Amnesiac

If you were to walk far beyond the taverns and residential sectors of Salem, past the thick, prickly forests surrounding it, and over the ravine, you may encounter a strange sight.

The graveyard was known by the many citizens here to be a forbidden place at night. The pure-hearted civilians would rest here, yet the evil Mafia and Neutrals would as well.

However, the man here doesn't know about these rumors. He doesn't know much at all. He felt a sudden urge to stroll around the graveyard one evening, about a week after he lost his memory in an accident. He didn't know why, but his gut told him to listen to his mind, and he followed anyways.

He glanced at the gravestones in front of him, the names of the recently fallen now imprinted on the now chizzling slabs of stone. It didn't mean much to him, he knew nothing of the history of this town. Not paying much attention to the stone road in front of him, he stumbled upon something this caught his eye.

It was right here, this one gravestone, the only name he can vaguely remember at this time. He touches the gravestone, memories of good and bad times flooding his thoughts. He remembers.

He finally remembers, and now's about the time for him to get back into buisness.

The Arsonist

It can be hard working alone, but oh can it be satisfying. He isn't necesarilly insane like the Serial Killer... He's not "out of control" like the Werewolf... He has his own mindset, and you can say he has a "firey personality".

All his life, he had always had a strange fascination with fire. Fireworks... Gunfire... Wildfire... Anything that involved fire would keep his interest. As the sun finally set, he would only need one canister of gasoline, and a whole lot of patience.

And so, each night, with that one box of flammable ingredient, he silently and stealthly plants gasoline around an unsuspecting town member's house. Sure, they could probably easily tell that they were visited by him, but as long as his identity remained hidden, he could care less.

And as the end of the week grew near, the man lights a match at night... Gazing at its bright beauty. He licks his lips with delight, as he carefully plants it on the ground, colliding with the gasoline he layed there before. With a step back, he admires the his work, but not for long, as he must hurry and get to the next home.

He looks back, and syas only one word:

"Ignition!"

The Blackmailer

There was always an ironic sense when one referenced the Blackmailer. They never seemed to talk, and at times would simply grin, for no obvious reason. It was sure that he startled a few people when they noticed this behaviour, but to him, he didn't care, he had all he needed.

At day, the Blackmailer was always asocial. He always seemed to have an excuse as to why he couldn't conversate with someone. No one exactly knew what this meant however.

The reason to his antics was, actually quite simple. He always had a good observation... No, it isn't like the Lookout's keen eye, and although he may occassionally eavesdrop on a conversation, he was certainly no Spy. He observed... Personalities... Psychology... The mind of people.

At night, was when he would use the information he found to perform his action. At the break of dusk, he would scurry out of his home, onto the barren streets of Salem, a few files in an envelope labelled "secrets". With the ring of a doorbell, the target would be greeted with it, in shock, slowly reading the unlucky 13 words written on the pictures.

"Speak, and we show this to the town. Certainly, you know your values."

And suddenly, that grin makes perfect sense.

The Bodyguard

In a thick fur coat, during the coldest months in Salem, the Bodyguard waits silently and alone outside one's home. The night seems silent for now, yet suddenly that changes.

Target spotted, he was certainly smart at his age. His eyes trained to spot any sudden movement in the carpet black of  the night.

He rushes into the house, the soon-to-be victim quietly sleeping in their bed. The Bodyguard knew nothing could stop him. A Werewolf, Arsonist... Not even a highly trained Mafioso could best him at combat.

The attacker stops at the top of the stairs, finally noticing the revolver pointed point-blank range. They both freeze in place, the evil now pointing their gun in response to the Bodyguard.

Sweat sprays down his face, until the protector grins. He knows this looks bad, but as long as he saves someone, he realises that he had done his job right. He pulls the trigger, the infiltrator firing back. Neither of them quick enough to dodge.

Two men alive, two men now fallen.

The Consigliere

He knows of one thing. He understand just how most of the citizens feels. He has felt an array of emotions throughout his life, enough to be able to connect with anyone he chooses at night.

He observes their attitude... Their gestures and speech. Anything they say or do will aid the Consigliere in his investigation. He knows of the Investigator's limited capabilities, as he can't emphasize with the target. The Investigator can't tell the role of someone between a few possiblities, while the Consigliere can determine the exact role of a target.

Doctor or a Serial Killer? He clearly doesn't seem sane in anyway, and he stutters when he moves. Must be a Serial Killer. Executioner or Sheriff? They certainly seem to talk specifically about a person half of the time. They seem to try and persuade alot. Certainly an Executioner...

With the Consigliere, he can always be sure to get the exact clues on someone's role, and that is just how he likes it.

As he walks back to his cottage from a successful night out investigating, he simply cannot wait to tell the mafia about his findings.

Join us next time, as we go through the Consort to the Executioner.