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Mafia - The Game

 
  

Page: 1(2)345

 
 
Baz Auckland
01:12 / 18.05.06
As Bazmo finished his set at the nearby Paradise Club he began to wonder about the folks around him. Grabbing another pint of gin he sat in the corner and brooded.

"Surely Von Mises is a bit suspect 'supposedly' being from out of town... but his story seems a bit too odd to be believed....who is he really?

Could it be that the rats are hiding behind a mask of innocence? Maybe that cigarette dame ain't as sweet as she looks... or that little kid neither. Either way, I better decide fast..."
 
 
Baz Auckland
06:42 / 18.05.06
"5 hours and two pints of gin gone, and still silence from the street. Damnit."

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Bazmo reviews the list of suspects he's set up in his head...

"There's no point waiting to jump on the lynching bandwagon. Damnit. I'll go tell the boss then. I sure hope I'm right that Maneki is a rat..."
 
 
■
07:15 / 18.05.06
Little Johhny had shouted till he was red in his little square face at the prone Biz guy who had fingered him. The rat had tried to get him jilled and now his head had broken his shine box. He didn't know enough of these guys to point the finger just yet and, though it would be easy for him to blame the schmuck on the ground, he didn't think it was him. Why? Call it professional pride. Anyone who cared enough about a good shine must have some good in him.
 
 
STOATIE LIEKS CHOCOLATE MILK
10:04 / 18.05.06
Stoatface Capaldi groans as he slowly comes to the conclusion that the only way the booze is gonna get to THIS headache is if he shoots it straight into his bruises. And that'd clearly be a waste.

The Barbelith Family? That's all he needs right now. Well, that and having the finger pointed at him. Damn you, Paleface, he thinks. I'm trying to keep my head down and go legit here.

Looking around the speakeasy, he hopes he's made the right decision. Fuck it, he thinks. Doesn't matter anyhow. Nobody's going to listen to me.
 
 
maneki neko
11:33 / 18.05.06
Maneki awoke with a headache. That all show and no go Bazmo in his chintzy suit was practising his trumpet again. I should cut the crap and make a decision, she thought, and I will, once I had my cup of Java.
 
 
P. Horus Rhacoid
12:41 / 18.05.06
Fiver blinks himself awake and wanders out of the bar into the street.

Oh god, he thinks. Somebody's about to be killed and I have to help decide who. The stress of the decision is too much and he promptly falls asleep in the middle of the street, twitching.
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
20:10 / 18.05.06
One-Mitt hadn't slept. He closed up the bakery early and mooched over to Benny's.

Passing the Don's tattered notice, he cursed the hood who'd suckered the neighbourhood into doing his dirty work for him. Jumped up little goon always had been a piker.

Entering the dive, One-Mitt clocked Fats over by the bar. He hesitated before walking over and ordering a drink. What was the use in waiting? He just hoped he got lucky. "Reckon it's that ritzy Yastrzemski" Fats nodded then turned back to the barman to order another Mint Julep.
 
 
maneki neko
20:34 / 18.05.06
Maneki hurries past Fat's Barber Shop. She can feel the stares of the townspeople. Someone was trying to frame her and she didn't need to put her cheaters on to see who it was.

There are whispers in the crowd when she passes. She can hear someone saying "that's her" and something about gallows. No more horsing around - she turns and faces the citizens of Little Catlipocia. It's not me - it is him, she screams and points an accusing finger at Yaz Yastrzemski.

The dramatic effect is only slightly spoiled when she takes a step forward and falls over narcoleptic Fiver, who still snores peacefully in the middle of the street.
 
 
■
21:16 / 18.05.06
Little Johnny had has a nap after his littleruckus and mulled it over.
A lot of people seemed happy to be setting up this Yaz. Chee, he thought, it'd be nice to avoid being the one doing the floorless dance, and blaming the bigmouth would be easy. But it seemed too easy to run with the crowd, something else was going on. The rising and revolving guy, who is he? Being a mite too mysterious, maybe? Nah.
Anyone who had something to hide wouldn't mark thesselves out as outsiders, so that wipes out the Kraut who praised him for being a model of capitalist entreprenoorship or some old horsefeathers. Too creepy.
The Fever man had given him plenty of big papayas over the years and had become kind of a friend, so he wasn't about to go readying his rope. Freddy Fiver had loose morals and a looser bladder, but he hadn't turned up for the meting. Was that a sign?
Maybe so, maybe not. Oven gloves had helped lift his box on to Biz's head and he wasn't going to repay that with the quick dropstep. And the birdman Dalliance helped feed up the pigeons who went doo-doo on people's shoes, so he'd be shooting his own bidness in the foot to think about that.
Who else was there? Chee heck, there were too many. The hot broad? The one-fist slugger?
Quietly, and in fear for his own life, Cube Boyd sneaks up to the board and pins a note to it reading:
Benny Triple
All these guys hanging around in his joint? The best guess he had. If it wasn't him, he hadda be connected. Johnny fingered his throat, breathed deep and enjoyed the feeling and walked home. To a trash can occupied by a green grouchy puppet.
 
 
Regrettable Juvenilia
22:53 / 18.05.06
Von Mises stands accused.

Or rather, at the moment, he sits, in his humble hotel room, smoking a pipe and reading a book of erotic Belgian poems, banned in every known nation state in the Western world.

With a harrumph, he snaps shut the tome, and crosses the room. He taps out the contents of his pipe in the ashtray on the desk, and draws back the curtain to gaze out of the window onto the street.

From earliest history, violent competition has been the dominant form of human interaction. Von Mises knows this is as true today as it was when Cain slew Abel for a couple of root vegetables. But Von Mises is not for the slaying. If he is a target, he will turn the tables on at least one of his accusers. His eyes fix upon a figure in the street, and he raises a stern finger to point at that wretched figure in righteous judgment:



"Yaz! The only way is DOWN for you now, for you are a member of the MAFIA!"
 
 
Jake, Colossus of Clout
02:22 / 19.05.06
Wretched? Wretched!? Yaz can't believe how this city has turned against him. He, the man who has become the preeminent slugger in the National League! Who has led Chicago to the top of the baseball heap after the Black Sox scandal of 1919! Why, the only hitter more feared is Babe Ruth himself! Without the great Yaz playing in Wrigley, the Cubs could wait until the next century to capture another title! Even the White Sox might win first!

Sure, the man may enjoy the company of loose women and strong drink, but who wouldn't in his situation? And it's not like he doesn't do his part for the Don, either. Remember last week's game against the Braves? Did anyone think that Yaz, of all people, could possibly strike out with the game on the line? Of course not! Unless, that is, it helped line the Don's pockets. The Braves are cellar-dwellers anyway, and the game was meaningless to the Cubs' chances for the pennant.

How could anyone possibly accuse a man who would swallow his pride and accept the jeers of the bleacher bums, all for the good of the Don and the organization?

For shame, Chicago!
 
 
Baz Auckland
03:52 / 19.05.06
Bazmo stands at the board totalling up the votes...

"Hmm... With 11 votes in, the totals are:

Yaz - 4 votes (Von Mises, Maneki, One-Mitt, Rising+Revolving)
Von Mises - 2 votes (Yaz, Feverfew)

One vote each:
Johnny 'cube' Boyd (voted by Johnny Biz)
Stoatface (voted by Paleface)
Paleface (voted by Stoatface)
Maneki (voted by Bazmo Auckstrong)
Benny Triple (voted by Johnny 'cube' Boyd)

Still not a done deal yet..."
 
 
Shrug
12:31 / 19.05.06
Dalliance, danced a drunken jig, for he knew who to pick. He stumbled to the notice board and though ossified did so with an unusual spring to his step.

"That'll tell him to give me the bum's rush", he glowered, before jotting down his choice.

It was a petty act of revenge for being ejected from the speakeasy that day. It hadn't been a heinous crime but one which Benny Triple might pay for with his life.
That night, as he retired, crawling into his bed, conscience-stricken, he looked remorsefully around at the memories of a shining vaudeville career now long finished and wondered if he'd made the right choice. Perhaps, Triple had been right? Maybe he was a lousy good for nothing drunk?

"What right had he? Too quiet for his own good! Every speakeasy has mob connections", the reasons came to him one after another, until he fell into an uneasy sleep.
 
 
Elijah, Freelance Rabbi
13:59 / 19.05.06
Elijah stumbled down from his apartment, looking obviously ill.

He muttered something under his breath, scribbled a name on the poster, then climbed the stairs to his flat.

The name he had written on the poster was a single, gutteral syllable, Yaz.

[I am terribly ill right now, so the noticeable lack of flavor text]
 
 
■
17:19 / 19.05.06
The boy Boyd took a look at the board and counted up the votes. Who hadn't stuck their oar in yet? Looked like it was just Fiver and Benny Triple. Yaz was for the long neck and soggy trousers. He breathed a sigh of relief, he was safe for now but who knew what could happen in the night?
 
 
P. Horus Rhacoid
17:25 / 19.05.06
Fiver wakes up, again, struggling with who to vote for. It looks like everything isn’t Jake for Jake, who’ll probably be getting the high-hat in the worst way. Still, Fiver isn’t exactly comfortable with going with the angry mob on this one. On the other hand, since the angry mob could turn on anyone at any time, it might be a smart play to join it.

That Von Mises is an odd bird, but Fiver has vague memories of his father, a lumber baron who’s positively rolling in it, praising ‘Fritz’ (Fiver’s pretty sure Von Mises’ first name is Ludwig, but he doesn’t argue with his father. About anything.) for having his head on straight about ‘those dirty Socialist bastards.’ Now that he thinks about it, Fiver can remember seeing multiple copies of each of Von Mises’ books lying around his house. One in every room, actually. In fact- the memory was muddled by the haze of sleep which had immedieately followed, but hadn’t his father given him a copy of Liberalism on his most recent birthday (twenty-two), telling him to ‘read it and try and make something of your lazy goddamn self?’ He had. Well, Fiver hasn’t read the book and probably never will but maybe he’ll ask Von Mises to autograph a copy for him to give to his pop. Yeah, his dad would love that, when Fiver gives it to him he’ll say ‘shucks, son, thanks a lot’ and maybe he’ll tear up a little bit and he’ll shake Fiver’s hand and maybe hug him and then his pop’ll take the day off and they’ll go out to eat together, maybe catch Yaz belting ‘em out of the park (Fiver knows nothing about baseball but has a vague idea that it’s a sort of father-son thing) and then at the end of the day they’ll go home and read Liberalism together before going to bed. At some point they’ll look at each other and Fiver will say ‘I wish Mom were here’ and his dad will nod and say, ‘me too, son. Me too.’

The realization that there are at least six distinct flaws in this plan brings Fiver back to earth. For one thing, his dad hates him, and his mother isn’t dead, just divorced because his father got bored. Also, going to see Yaz play probably won’t be an option once the baseball star’s been lynched by an angry pitchfork-wielding mob, and he’s pretty sure he’s heard his father call baseball ‘a waste of goddamn time when I could be doing work.’ Though Fiver only has a vague concept of what constitutes a normal father-son relationship, he’s also relatively certain that, at age 22, he’s probably a little bit too old for this sort of thing. There’s also the matter of staying awake for that long of a stretch. The shock of his father treating him like a normal person would probably cause him to fall asleep.

Fiver is also pretty sure he’s never seen a tear come to his father’s eye. Maybe sometimes when his father looks at him, but that’s not in the way he means.

It also doesn’t help in the matter of who to vote for. Shit! He wants nothing to do with someone’s death. With a groan, he makes his decision. He scurries off to see the Don and tell him he doesn’t trust Rupert Dalliance.

Not that he really trusts anybody. They all frighten him.
 
 
Jake, Colossus of Clout
18:09 / 19.05.06
I just want you all to know that by lynching poor Yaz, you're all responsible for 98 years of futility at Wrigley Field. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Go find a Cubs fan and buy him a beer.
 
 
Tezcatlipoca
19:28 / 19.05.06


Dusk settles over the mean streets of Little Catlipocia, bringing with it a rising sense of unease. Down on 24th street, gathered around the lamppost, are the citizens of the community. A noose is fastened to the top of the post, and a chair sits beneath, upon which rests the figure of Don Catlipoca, idly waving his hat before his face in an effort to stave off the late May heat.
Fats the barber stands to the right of the Don, nodding to himself. His lips move silently as he counts the assembled members, then he turns to chair.



"Fifteen, boss. Deys all here."
Don Catlipoca gives a snort, then eases himself up out of the chair, ducking to avoid the noose that hangs directly above it.
"My fellow citizens of Little Catlipocia," he intones. "We are here to lynch our first-" he pauses suddenly, as though groping for the correct word, "suspect. Now I know that some of you has had doubts, Lord knows I’ve had them too, but we need to find the Barbelith Family and we need to do it fast." Don Catlipoca pauses again, this time to run his eyes over the citizens. Then he gives a nod. "By Fats’ reckoning, Jake 'Yaz' Gnosis has got the most votes. Send him forward."

The tension in the air changes. Now bloodlust seizes the mob, and the figure of Yaz, bound and gagged, is marched from the crowd to the chair. Fats assists in getting him to climb up onto the chair, then reaches up and places the noose about his neck.



Don Catlipoca places his hat to his heart, then gives a sigh. "If you was innocent," he says to the bound figure, "then you go to your grave a martyr to this fine community. If you was not, then I hope you rot in Hell." Then the Don gives a nod to Fats.
There is a horrible squeal as the chair is kicked away, a sudden crack, then a dreadful silence.

For a long time there is no sound as the crowd watch the figure of Yaz kick, then twitch, then swing lifeless. As Fats pulls the body down and makes ready the noose, Don Catlipoca turns to the mob once more.

"I am sorry to say, my fellow citizens, that we have one more duty to perform. Triple Fuss Emily did not vote, and so must also be removed from the community. I hate to do it this way, but those what don’t vote is either Barbelith Family themselves, or they don’t want no part in the removal of the Family, so either way there is no place for them in Little Catlipocia. Send them out."
And with that, Triple Fuss Emily, similarly bound and gagged is marched forward.

********************************

The notice appears in the centre of the street barely an hour after it all occurred. The crowd dispersed quickly, returning to their homes or to the bar to ruminate on what they’d just done.
Ten minutes later, the Don had sent out some men to take down the two bodies, and to return them to the barbershop, there to have the Don’s doctor examine them thoroughly. A few minutes ago the notice was put in place for all to see:

"My loyal Catlipocians, I have news both good and bad. An examination of the two bodies has revealed that Jake ‘Yaz’ Gnosis was part of the Barbelith Family Mafia, and had been working to undermine this fine community. The body will be sent back to the Barbelith Family as a warning to what happens to rats in this town.
However, this night was also tinged with sadness. Triple Fuss Emily was examined and re-examined, and every diagnosis is the same; they were Innocent.
I ask you all to be extra vigilant this evening. We still have two Mafia left and no idea as to who they is. Keep a close eye on each other, citizens, because you can bet your last dime that your Don is keeping a close eye on you. - Don Catlipoca".


**

It is now Night. Remaining Mafia, you must select a single target amongst yourselves, then PM me your choice. Detectives, Doctor, and Fink, please target one other character with your respective powers, then PM me your decision.
Night lasts until the end of the weekend, or until all of the specials have given me their decisions, whichever is sooner. As with day votes, any special failing to PM me before the close of the week will be automatically removed from the game.
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
21:25 / 19.05.06
One-Mitt stared at the notice. Unless he needed cheaters the hunch had turned out to be on the trolley, which was swell.

Futz! It was more than swell. It was the cat's meow!
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
21:48 / 19.05.06
The only thing eating him was where he was gonna get his coffin varnish now the gin mill was playing gigalo to the end of a rope?
 
 
Feverfew
17:52 / 20.05.06
Feverfew ruminated on the news of the day. Not least the fact that it was half-by-seven of the evening, and his dogs were really starting to ache - business was up, but only mostly because people wanted to discuss what happened...

'Well', he thought, having sold a bag of red apples to an old boy with a walker, 'I can't pretend to be unhappy about that 'Yaz'. My faith in athletes has been knocked right out of the park. It was a shame about that Triple Fuss Emily, though - they weren't no high-hat. Still. Times move on.'

Seeing that no more customers are around, Feverfew closes up the stall and tallies the inventory on the bottled stock under the stall, realising that he'll need to speak to a man about a dog before too long. With that, he locks up, gets out his hope chest and lights up a coffin nail, and beats a hasty retreat to his residence before the denizens of the night come out.
 
 
Tezcatlipoca
18:34 / 20.05.06


Dawn rises over Little Catlipocia, sending golden fingers through the shady back-alleys and along the narrow side streets.
One by one, the shops begin to open. Signs are erected, awnings are cranked open, and crates of produce placed out on the sidewalk to intice shoppers.

Across the street from the bar lies Fats' barbershop, second home to Don Catlipoca, who has been known to spend days in the great leather chair inside, from there dispensing orders to the dozens of trusted wise-guys he relies upon to run the little community.
But this morning, he stands at the door to the shop, the eminent members of the local community standing in a small crowd before him.



"Loyal Catlipocians," he begins. "I was never one for speeches, so I'm gonna to make this short. Yesterday was a mixed blessing for us, but with skill and faith you - the people - unmasked and hung one of the Barbelith Family what has infiltrated this fine community." Don Catlipoca gives a slight sigh, as though uncertain of how to deliver his next line. "And now," he says uneasily, "I gotta give you another mixed blessing. Last night, against all expectations, the remaining two mafia whacked nobody. This means that they tried it on with a Bulletproof guy, or someone protected by the Doctor." He pauses. "Of course, they is still at large. People of Little Catlipocia, it's a brand new Day. You know the rules, and I expect a lynching."
 
 
maneki neko
16:57 / 21.05.06
Maneki was thoughtful. She looked at her near empty tray, then at the bare fridge. Shame about Benny Triple now wearing a Chicago overcoat, especially since she wasn't gonna make no jack with the bar closed. She certainly was behind the eight ball now.

She had a spare key to Benny's joint but where was she gonna get the bootleg from? Should she link up with Feverfew? But then maybe the townspeople were up for something different, like kicking the gong around. She had some connections she could call in and mud pipes were easy to come by.

Maneki made a decision. She had the bulge there and she was gonna use it to make a quick buck. She would rename Benny's into the Blue Lotus and open up tonight.
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
20:12 / 21.05.06
One-Mitt woke up and groaned. It was still dark but he was already late to go fire up the bakery's ovens. And he'd been in the middle of that dream again, the one where he was kissing Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream.



One-Mitt was all balled up as to what this meant but jeepers creepers, could that guy smoulder or what!

No-one had ended up getting the big sleep last night and the neighbourhood wasn't having the screaming meemies about the Barbelith Family no more, which meant business was peachy. And word on the street was that that jane Maneki was putting the chinese squeeze on Benny's old joint.

One-Mitt thought he'd head down there later and bump gums with the rest of the citizens. The day had turned out pretty swell so far but there were still a couple of rats chewing gum out there and they weren't gonna climb up their thumbs by themselves.
 
 
Regrettable Juvenilia
20:34 / 21.05.06
Von Mises does not miss - which is more than can be said for the so-called 'Barbelith Family'. They have attempted to see him off at least once, perhaps twice, only for one of them to be hoist by his own petard. Now it is simply a matter of waiting for the next one to reveal him or herself - and they will be revealed, oh yes, if only to the eyes, and little grey cells, of Ludwig Von Mises.
 
 
Joy Division Oven Gloves
23:33 / 21.05.06
The Blue Lotus was quiet. One-Mitt was surprised, he'd expected folks to be making whoopee after the events of yesterday. It was still early though and with another lynching due tonight maybe the neighbouhood wasn't in the mood for a rub yet.

Lighting up another gasper, One-Mitt put his mind back to the previous night and to who'd put the screws on who:

Yaz R+R, Maneki, One Mitt, von Mises, Elijah
Benny Little Johnny Cube, Rupert Dalliance
von Mises Feverfew, Yaz
Maneki Bazmo
Cube Bizunth (aka the Wood Pecker)
Stoatface Paleface
Paleface Stoatface
Dalliance Fiver
 
 
Baz Auckland
01:24 / 22.05.06
Having just returned from another run down Lake Michigan with a boat full of booze, Bazmo sits brooding in the Blue Lotus about the loss of Benny and the fact that he sits around brooding far too much for his own good...

"There's still 13 of us left... and 2 of those no-good Barbeliths to go... pretty good odds... but who are they? Isn't it a tired and true Mafia tactic to have themselves vote for each other in the first round to dispel suspicion?"

Thinking of Paleface and Stoatface's voting pattern just makes Bazmo order another drink and brood some more...
 
 
The Strobe
11:19 / 22.05.06
Paleface sighs. Bazmo isn't the sharpest cookie, really. Whilst he and Stoatface, accidentally converged on voting, there were many other overlaps. Yaz voted for von Mises, and vice versa; that seemed to backfire, alas.

And besides, Mafia voting for one another is a pretty shoddy technique. Paleface thinks back to his days in the Family back in the homeland, and never remembers such a cack-handed technique.

"The openings are always random," he mutters, perhaps to himself, perhaps to the others. One mafioso is down; the odds are very much in the civilians' favour. And we got lucky last night, too. The question is: how to play now? Retaliation isn't a very successful technique, and given we took out one of them, and lost no-one, we're essentially in another "first round".

So. Time to pick and choose, again.
 
 
Regrettable Juvenilia
11:29 / 22.05.06
Yaz voted for von Mises, and vice versa; that seemed to backfire, alas.

"Alas"?

Who could be unhappy with the end result of that duel?

Who but a member of the Mafia?
 
 
■
20:02 / 22.05.06
Little Johnny awoke refreshed as a light shower of yellow rain had dribble into his trashcan during the night. He was glad to find his head still attached to his body and no chickenwire round his feet.
As the first one fingered last round, he had half expected to be first on the nightly hitlist, too. After giving the fruit cart owner a good buffing in exchange for a couple of guavas he set up his stall and watched the day go by. He was surprised to see there was still activity at the soda fountain. Someone was a fast worker. Did they hav to keep the supply lines open. After rubbing up a couple of business types for a good shine and exhausting his only good double entendre, he sat back to watch the rest of the day.
 
 
Baz Auckland
00:14 / 23.05.06
Who could be unhappy with the end result of that duel?

Who but a member of the Mafia?


Well... if vou're Mafia, then we would be unhappy with that...

Missed that pattern... it could be Von Mises was in league with Yaz...
 
 
Feverfew
07:16 / 23.05.06
A shine on his shoes and a couple of guavas lighter (that kid sure could bargain), Feverfew headed onward and upward and opened up the stall. It would be a few hours before a fruit truck even got near to Little Catlipocia, but there was more than enough to get by until then, unless there were to be a rush on mangoes.

Settling in, he took stock of the situation; across the street, painters were already putting the finishing touches to the Blue Lotus's new sign out front. 'Good idea, Maneki' he thought; 'Never let the grass grow under your feet in this town'.

And so, the unpleasant problem of voting reared it's ugly head once more, sowing disharmony and mistrust amongst everybody in the town. Worse, some were getting to be a little paranoid about the situation. 'And that, he mused, 'Does nobody any good.' That resolved, Feverfew settles in to wait, and see what else is going on, before rushing in and franticly voting as he did last time.

'Thinking about it, I should probably send that Von Mises a bag of apples, just to apologise for trying to get him strung up in the frenzy. Maybe I'll do that.'

With this, he whistles for Little Johnny, always eager to earn some coin, and gives him a bag of fruit with a note attached, telling Johnny to deliver it post haste.
 
 
P. Horus Rhacoid
07:23 / 23.05.06
Fiver wanders down the street, one hand jammed into his coat pocket, the other clamping his hat over his head. He leans forward against the wind. So the slugger was a member of the Barbelith family... a pretty lucky guess, but one to be thankful for. Still, two more rats to finger, and the town casting a kitten and lynching someone every day, and that has Fiver worried. Well, more than usual.

This whole thing raises more questions than it answers. Was Yaz's lynching blind luck? Are the people who voted for him as innocent as they might seem, or did a plan to throw suspicion off go terribly awry? Did the slugger's comrades in crime doublecross him, figuring he was sunk anyway? Von Mises' grand proclamations strike Fiver as suspicious, but he's not sure he can believe the great economist is working for the Barbelith family.

Yes, more questions than it answers. Fiver's not looking forward to the evening.
 
 
maneki neko
13:53 / 23.05.06
Maneki hit the pipe, she was all balled up and felt like amping down a bit. She looked around – she wasn’t exactly putting on the ritz, but the place was hitting on all eight. Jack was coming in and if she survived the next few days she might even have the bees soon.

If only there wasn’t the question of who was gonna take the jump this evening. She’d consulted the I Ching like last time, but the Hexagram just said: Though there is sincerity in one's contention, he will yet meet with opposition and obstruction. If he cherish an apprehensive caution, there will be good fortune. If he prosecute the contention to the bitter end, there will be evil. It will be advantageous to see the great man. It will not be advantageous to cross the great stream.

Caution seemed the keyword – Maneki took another drag and decided to wait. There was no need to take any wooden nickels, she still had time.
 
 
Elijah, Freelance Rabbi
15:08 / 23.05.06
Elijah walked outside, squinting at the bright sunlight he had not seen for what felt like days. That snake oil he picked up finally started working, and a few crazy fever dreams later (Why would there be a dancing dwarf anywhere in this town?) he felt much better.

"Ah Yaz, you were good for the team, but bad for the city, better off without you," he whispered to nobody in particular as he walked down the street, stopping long enough to buy an apple from Feverfew and watch the construction which was turning the local pub into something he recognized from his time in California.

"You know chum," he said between bites, "I don't know if I ever knew anyone on the straight and narrow who thought an opium den was a good idea..."
 
  

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