View Topic

Hey all! It's almost time for National Novel Writing Month (November 1st to 31st) and I decided to give it another attempt.

This year I decided to try something a little different.  This year I'll be starting on something known as The Werewolf Files, with the first being The Village.

It'll essentially be longer, fleshed out stories of adventures from our werewolf games...complete with actual dialogue that's been used and only slightly altered to fit it being a story rather than a game.

I'll be writing the notes tonight and getting it ready, and once November hits I'll post when I finish a chapter.

So I'm still a little undecided how I want to tackle this...either as a potential anthology, or a potentially connected series.  I have 2 different plots, and I'd like some opinions on the better one:

I: The Village (plot A)
   -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Travelers – those tasked with going throughout time and space and helping extinguish the darkness that surrounded the various universes.  For if the darkness came to be too much, it could bring about the End.

   Jarin, a newer Traveler, finds himself being sent to a remote village in the middle of nowhere.  But what starts as a peaceful village turns into a show of terror when a meteor strikes outside of the village, changing everything.

   Now it’s a clash of good and evil, of power, and of who will console the drunken priest as he stumbles through this entire affair.

But who will win?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I: The Village (Plot B)
   It was a peaceful time in the village of Metronia; the birds were singing, the leaves dancing in the wind, children laughing, and half price for a pint at the Tipsy Traveler.  One night, however, everything changed as a meteor fell just outside of town.  Now the birds have fled, the leaves sat in silence, the children cried, and drinks were free since the bartender was forced to retire to an early grave.  Despite the terror throughout the village, nobody can figure out who’s causing it since the evil blends in with the rest of the village.  Now only a select few can figure out and stop the evil...but will they be able to before it’s too late?

Hm. Well, option A sounds like you'll be working from one POV, while the second looks like it has more space for multiple perspectives. So, since these are based on Werewolf type things, you should work out if you want plot armout or not.

I'd prefer option B. Option A sounds like it might be biting off a bit much, since you'll have Jarin having to meet all these new faces. Then again, Option A allows for characters to introduce themselves, while Option B has things like the narrative establishing facts about them (rumours, for instance, are awesome, and unlikely to be things someone says when one walks up to them).

...Plus, option A can have all the townsfolk be suspicious of the newcomer... Well, if you're planning to adapt all of them, maybe leave option A on the back burner and focus on the events themselves this first time around?

Actually, if I went with option A, it'd be more like a Star Trek or Kingdom Hearts type of thing to where he'd be a newcomer, but he'd blend with the people so they wouldn't be incredibly suspicious.

But I see where you're getting at, definitely.  That's why I wanted some opinions on this, because I rarely ever look in the long-run ideas as opposed to just looking ahead and seeing how things go.

On a related note, I decided to do something a bit more ambitious.

Since I can't decide between the two, I'll just do both.  Whichever one I end up progressing with the most will be the obvious one I'll end with.  But I think it could be interesting writing the same story in two very different and distinct ways.

a day early, but hey? It's 5 minutes to midnight somewhere, so it'd technically be right on the day elsewhere.
--------------------------------------------------------

Prologue

   It was another sunny and cheerful day in the remote village of Metronia.  green-colored Bluebirds were singing in the various trees that surrounded the village, and the leaves seemed to dance in the gentle breeze that traveled throughout.  Though it was a small village, it was always bustling with activity from the local vendors calling out their daily specials, to the local prostitutes calling out their own daily specials (It was No Pants Day with Surly Sue).  The biggest excitement, however, was down at the local pub known as the Tipsy Traveler (a pub with an unfortunate name, since travelers were rarely seen).

   Today was half price day for all drinks at the pub (but only if you came in wearing pants), and many of the locals were taking advantage of the deal.  Even the local priest, Father Priestly could be seen downing another Fuzzy Navel as the barkeep was running out of room on his tab tally board for the good priest.  Sitting across from the priest was his apprentice (we’ll just call him “Billy”), who waited patiently for his master to finish his drinks...all the while drinking a glass of ale himself.

   Across the way, the blacksmith known as Smithy was training his own apprentice, Prentiss, in the craft.  Today, Smithy was hesitantly teaching Prentiss how to properly create a knife that would actually cut,  taking in consideration yesterday’s disaster when Prentiss had accidentally created the odd rounded tool that was surprisingly good for holding liquids to consume (she called it a “spoon”).

   As Smithy was explaining how to cool down the knife (since Prentiss had a knack for giving customers still-scorching-hot finished items), an odd cloth-knitted square-shaped ball flew by and knocked down the water bucket.  The little boy known as Baldwin grabbed the ball, apologizing profusely as he went back to the main dirt path and kicked it some more.

   This time, the ball flew by the florist’s shop, ran by the village beauty, Florabelle (though she preferred just “Flora”).  She didn’t mince words at the boy as the ball knocked over a floral arrangement (that oddly enough resembled a sickly dog of all things).  Rather than apologizing this time, Baldwin quickly just grabbed his ball and ran as Flora kept chasing him.

   While all of this character introduction was happening, elsewhere the actual plot was beginning to take place.  As some of the bluebirds were enjoying catching flies in the sky (also know as Sky Flies), they were so very rudely interrupted by the sound of something falling, followed by the very typical ominous dark shadow that seemed to only get bigger.  As the green-colored bluebirds looked up (while the flies very eagerly pushed their little wings faster to get away in the confusion), they saw what looked to be a meteor fast approaching them.

   Back in the village where things were still happening, Baldwin continued kicking his ball until he kicked it straight up, only to see it hurling towards the oncoming meteor.  The other villagers looked up in horror as they saw what was hurdling towards them, towards the ball.  It came closer...closer, until the ball and the meteor met, and the meteor was suddenly knocked away by the ball like a piece of cheap plastic, and sent back into space.

   But right behind that meteor was another one, this one refusing to be treated like a second-rate object as it smashed squarely into the square-shaped cloth-knitted ball, blowing it into fragments and continuing its course.  As the response to incoming natural disasters normally goes, the villagers of course panicked and screamed, running and flailing around as if they were trying to be moving targets for the incoming massive piece of flaming rock mixed with possible shiny things.

   The meteor was close now, but since stories about a remote village need that village to survive, naturally the meteor landed just outside of the village right at the beginning of the forest...though it did destroy one tiny house that belonged to one of the village drunks (there were so many that you could call the village "Drunkopolis"), Tiny.  Of course since he has a name and this is still the prologue, Tiny survived since he was obviously at the pub at the time.  Alas, the same could not be said of his poor little house, which was given an indefinite expansion to house the giant fallen meteor (Amusingly also called Tiny by its peers).

   Both curious but also frightened, the villagers decided at this point in time to leave the strange meteor be, since they were too frightened to even step out of their homes.  That, and everything becomes more interesting when everyone isn’t outside crowding around the gigantic piece of plot device (things are much less messy that way).

   Some time later, the sky went dark and the moon went up almost intrusively to announce that it was night time.  Most of the villagers knew what this meant as they each hobbled to bed, save for the select few that would be used to further the story along.  As most of the villagers slept, the few earlier mentioned characters (Flora, Baldwin, Smithy, Prentiss, Billy, Tiny, Priestly, and even Surly Sue) decided to check out the strange meteor.  But as they approached, the masses outside of their story demanded something interesting to happen as a force from the meteor struck each of them, making them feel unwell.

   Looking at each other, they each decided to just go to bed, knowing not what the meteor had done to them.  But as the reader, you probably assume it gave them powers...because that’s how most stories involving strange meteors go.  And obviously, since this is a story involving strange meteors at the beginning, you’d be correct in that assumption, well done!  And so, we move onto the next day (or chapter in this instance) where things can continue to progress, now that you’ve had this invigorating story introduction.

And here we have Chapter 1! Complete with everyone's favorite form of action...sitting and talking! This is the first chapter with dialogue lifted and, in some cases, mildly changed to fit more of the story.  Most of this chapter was written in Word Wars, also known as small contests of writing non-stop for 10-15 minutes.  Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

   The villagers awoke the next morning to a sudden new feeling in the air: stillness, sorrow, quiet, and the usual scent of manure from the farm animals.  Billy was the first to waken from his bed, turning to see his master Priestly starting to stir as well (or tossing around in a drunken sleep, he wasn't really sure).  As he stood up, he took a look at his hand and saw something unusual that wasn’t there the day before: a mark shaped like that of a Knight.  He couldn’t understand what it meant, but something told him that it wasn’t something he could share with his master, or anyone for that matter.  So instead, he decided to hide it under his completely-and-totally-normal leather gloves.

   Billy headed downstairs to the main area of the church as he began his cleaning and preparing the altar for the day.  He looked around the church, murmuring to himself about a dreadful feeling he was getting from the air today, his allergy to dust not helping things at all.  He begrudgingly dusted the altar, something Father Priestly had been neglecting ever since the only Sermons he saw these days were the Bottles of Sermon's Hard Cider that the pub carried.  He sneezed as a blanket of dust rejected his brushing and took revenge on his face.

   Meanwhile, Father Priestly had woken from bed, and exactly replicating the previous events, looked at his hand as he awoke.  On his hand, however, was a different mark.  It looked to be that of a hooded figure with a staff, a seer of sorts.  Something told him that he obtained a special sort of gift, but like Billy, something inside told him that he couldn’t divulge it to anyone.  Like Billy, he instead decided to hide his mark under some definitely-not-suspicious gloves.

   Making his own way downstairs, his eyes met with Billy’s, and their eyes then moved to each other’s gloves.  Did his apprentice have a mark on his hand as well? What did it all mean?  “Good morning, Billy.” Priestly said, realizing that like all cliches go, he had to keep this secret to himself.  “Good morning Father Priestly.” Billy replied, keeping with the same cliché about his own secret.  Deep down they both knew the other had something, but continued their duties (Billy cleaning, Priestly drinking) as if everything was normal.

   Elsewhere, Smithy was waking from his own bed as he yawned, stretching out his hand.  He saw what looked to be a mark similar to Billy’s (though of course he wouldn’t have known that), but once again following the similar cliché, he knew deep down that he couldn’t speak of this revelation to anyone.

   “Help! Help! There’s been a murder!” The plot screamed from outside as our main characters shuffled their way outside, the sudden reveals portion of the story being interrupted.  As they made it out, they could see the bloodied corpse of a prostitute holding a chicken, which raised some interesting questions but made people worry nonetheless about what it could all mean (the murder, not the fact she was holding a chicken who seemed all but desperate to escape her clutches).  Smithy and the others exchanged looks, and they all knew that deep down, thanks to basically every plot rule in a murder mystery, that it had to be one of them since the masses had clearly dictated this sort of action.

   Making their way to the tavern, they each sat at the same table, slowing story’s action down to a crawl so they could instead talk it out like unrealistically civilized human beings.  “Welcome to the table, everyone!” said Smithy.  “YOU'RE THE BAD GUY! That friendly greeting charade doesn't fool me” replied Flora, who was stunning everyone in the wrong direction with her unusual dress that resembled a venus fly-trap.  “just kidding! Hi!” she added with a slightly nervous smile.  “That's just the kind of thing a bad guy would say!” said Billy, looking toward Flora as he took a drink of ale.  “THAT'S just what a bad guy looking to deflect attention would say!” countered Flora.

   Nobody had even bothered to question where the bartender was and why they had gotten their drinks for free...though you the reader obviously know that there was probably an off-page murder of the bartender.  That or he’s just really good at hiding, which is obviously doubtful (he was actually the first to die, he was just tossed in the woods somewhere...RIP bartender).

   During the deliberations, one of the unimportant unnamed villagers (because why would a non-main have a name outside of maybe “Steve”?) walked up and started asking the questions that the readers would be asking during this point.  “Hey, shouldn’t you actually be going out and finding this killer rather than sitting and talking?” they asked, to which our characters simply laughed at them.  “What? Search for a dangerous killer?  Are you mad?” Smithy asked, as Prentiss nodded.  “Yeah, like we’re going to go out and actually look for this bad guy.  For all we know, it’s one of us here, hence why we’re asking each other questions and resorting to baseless accusations.” she replied.

   The unnamed villager shook his head, knowing he/she wouldn’t win this fight.  “Fine, well if you want to accuse someone, you best be right.  Because the other villagers are itching for some kind of justice.  It’s strange how normally serene and peaceful villagers can turn so bloodthirsty in this second.  I guess it’s just something that happens in stories like this.” the unnamed villager said as he walked out.

   “Huh, wonder what he meant by that last part.” Tiny said as the others shrugged.  “Right, now where were we?” Flora said as young Baldwin raised his hand.  “Oh, oh! We were pointing out which of us was the bad guy!” Baldwin replied as Flora smiled.  “That’s right! Good job little one.” she replied, as her mood darkened.  “Wait, surely this young man isn’t going to be the one, right?  I mean he’s only what, 7 years old? Surely this story isn’t cruel enough to suggest that an actual child is either going to get killed or is the bad guy, is it?” she asked, as the others looked at each other.  “Just what are you ranting about Flora? Do you have a secret you want to tell us?” Smithy asked.

   “I think it's already pretty clear who one of the bad guys--okay, I’m sorry, can we stop for a second?” asked Prentiss to nobody in particular.  “What’s the matter Prentiss?” Smithy asked, as Prentiss looked straight ahead, as if to a camera that wasn’t there.  “Look, the story is called The Werewolf Chronicles, surely we all know that the “bad guy(s)” are werewolves, so can we stop with the suspense of acting like we don’t know what they are yet?” She asked, as everyone exchanged looks.  “I don’t know exactly what you’re going on about...but hypothetically, the bad guy could be anything.  “Werewolf” could just be the blanket term for what you’re supposedly talking about...unless you know something the rest of us don’t.” Flora explained, as the others exchanged curious looks toward her.

   “A wolf says what?” Smithy started, as he looked around to see if anyone would take his bait.  “So what--” he started, as Flora pointed at him.  “Aha! Surely you’re the bad guy here!” she quickly interrupted as Smithy sighed, realizing his own stupid mistake.  “No, I’m just terrible with word traps.” he replied, as Flora crossed her arms, unconvinced.  “That’s just what a wolf would say.” she replied as the others crossed their arms, following the usual herd mentality.

   “Settle down there, wolfie. Keep casting aspersions my way, whatever helps you howl at the moon at ni- I mean, sleep at night.” Smithy replied as some of the others couldn’t help but be curious at the sudden change in statement...particularly Baldwin, who seemed more adept than people had first assumed of him.  “Do we have to pick someone on the first go if nobody has done anything yet? we're just hoping for a lucky guess...”

This question from Baldwin seemed to surprise the others, more specifically Tiny, whom was about the same size as young Baldwin but seemed very alert at even the smallest detail, given his size.  “What do you mean “if nobody has done anything yet?” Did you not see the dead body outside?” he asked, as Prentiss looked towards him.  “Or perhaps he did see it, but it means nothing to him since he killed them?  Wait, so we’re really trying to go for the “this kid is almost definitely, possibly a killer” angle? You realize we’re going to have parents on us like the plague if he’s the bad guy, right?” Prentiss once again asked straight ahead to nothing, as everyone looked around.  “Who ARE you talking to?” Smithy asked, wondering if his apprentice was really even sane in the first place.

   “If it makes anyone feel better, we can always vote "No Kill."” replied Priestly, whom everyone had begun to forget was even there in the first place.  “Why on earth would we even do that?” Prentiss asked, genuinely baffled by the statement.  “That’s just like saying “Hey, we don’t care that anyone was killed, and we like to let killers walk free.” she continued, as Smithy countered.  “But how do we know one of us did it?” she asked, as Prentiss grew angry.  “Because that’s what the story dictates, obviously!”  “WHAT STORY?!” Smithy screamed out as Prentiss countered in a similar tone.  “THE ONE WE’RE OBVIOUSLY IN OF COURSE!” she screamed, as Smithy grew angrier.  “THIS IS REAL LIFE YOU NUTTER, NOT A STORY!” he screamed, as Flora stood up.  “Guys! This isn’t helping!”

   Billy sighed as he turned to the rest.  “Look, we’re getting nowhere with this.  All it is is pointless arguing in a pub while we’re all just getting more drunk.  Clearly Prentiss has had one too many, so maybe we should just call it a day for now, okay?” Billy explained, as Prentiss countered.  “How rude! You’re not drunk, I’m drunk! Love me readers, for I am your goddess! Tell me how my story ends my loves!” Prentiss screamed out as she let out a hiccup and passed out.

   “Well that just happened.” Flora replied, as Baldwin drank from his glass.  “Um...is nobody going to question why the 7 year old is drinking ale?” she continued, as everyone looked toward him.  Realizing his mistake, Baldwin, with absolutely unrealistically fast speed, switched his drink with a mug of chocolate milk, as everyone smiled.  “Ohh, he’s only drinking chocolate milk.  That makes total sense.” Everyone but Baldwin said in unrealistically unrehearsed unison like a group of robots.

   The conversation began to fall into the night, as once again the moon almost perversely began to enter the night sky.  It seemed as if the cracks were already starting to form within the group, as they each started to have a go at each other.  It was almost a miracle that none had already begun seriously pointing a finger at one another.  However the only question that remained was whether it really was a good idea to sit it out and let things play out that night.  Was there really no good suspect yet? Or was this a wolf’s tactic to draw things out in their favor?  Only time would tell...

Here comes the first night Phase! You'll notice it's a bit shorter than the previous chapter.  This was mainly an introduction to the night counterparts, so it comes off as a little shorter.  Also, events versus the actual night phase are going to be a bit different (the night phase in the game happening near the bar, this one happening near the brothel)...however the actions of the characters are going to echo the choices that the actual members who played those roles made (IE the Seerman scanning Wintermoot whom gets killed in the same night, and the Seeress seeking the truth about the villager she follows, whom gets killed in the same night).

Also, if anyone wants to keep up on who's who, here's the revealed roles so far:
*Billy: Knightman (Vinaza)
*Father Priestly: Seeress (Amalya)
*Flora: Everyman (Wintermoot)
*Baldwin: ? ? ?
*Tiny: ? ? ?
*Surly Sue: ? ? ?
*Prentiss: ? ? ?
*Smithy: ? ? ?

Who do you think will be the 2 that will be revealed as the Werewolf?

Chapter 2

   Billy was having a difficult time sleeping during the night.  Something inside him stirred as he stepped out of bed.  He turned to see that Father Priestly had already left his bed...but why?  He looked toward his hand to see the mark on it glowing as he began hearing a voice in his head, which seemed to be talking dirty to him.  “Touch me, Billy.  Touch me and turn me on.” The voice said, as Billy felt slightly disturbed by the choice of words being used.  “Um...alright then.” He replied.

   Touching the brand on his hand (and being grateful it wasn’t followed by a disturbing sound given the choice of wording earlier), he watched as the glowing light engulfed him completely.  When it disappeared, he was looking at a unique steel armor surrounding his body, followed by a giant K in the center of his chest armor which looked remarkably identical to a famous superhero’s crest (but the K made it less susceptible to copyright infringements).  Somewhere deep down, he knew what he was called: Knightman.

   Looking in the conveniently placed mirror in the room, he noticed that even his facial features had changed completely, looking much more like a character that you’d expect Hollywood to cast a panty-wetting heartthrob in the role of.  Even Billy couldn’t help but admire his handsome chiseled chin, smoldering lips capable of bringing any woman (or same-swinging man) to their knees, and his sensual come-hither-stare capable blue eyes.

   Eventually growing tired of admiring himself, Knightman made his way downstairs and out of the church.  He began walking the streets, suddenly feeling an intense urge to protect it for no reason at all (as most dashing knights do).  Spotting a clearly-important villager walking the streets, he decided to head to them.

   “Hail, villager!” Knightman beckoned to the completely average, yet still clearly important villager that looked like every generic male villager out there (so much so that you could call him an Everyman).  The Everyman turned to Knightman, unsure of what to make of the towering figure of handsome that was coming toward him.  He began to speed up to an almost sprint, as Knightman attempted to keep up.  “Slow down average citizen, I must protect you!” Keeping up his speed, the Everyman quickly found an alley and slipped through, quickly sneaking through yet another area before Knightman had made it into the alley.

   Knightman sighed as he realized that he had lost the Everyman.  Knowing he had to protect someone, he suddenly caught wind of his own reflection in the window.  He couldn’t help but admire himself once more, as he suddenly came upon what he considered a brilliant idea (but in reality was something that made no sense whatsoever): at least for tonight, he would just protect his handsome self.  Content with this idea, he stood still in place as a unique purple aura surrounded him, protecting him from sight of any potential threats.

   Meanwhile, Father Priestly was finishing yet another drink at the now-abandoned pub as he noticed his hand also producing a similar glow (though he wouldn’t have known it was similar to anything, naturally).  Unlike Billy, however, the voice that spoke in his head was less sensual and more feminine. “Touch the brand Priestly, and be given the sight to see what others cannot.” The voice spoke, as Father Priestly (who wasn’t sure if he was well past drunk at this point after hearing this) touched the brand on his hand.

   Again, unlike Billy, Father Priestly’s transformation was much less subtle.  Think Sailor Moon’s transformation scene, except instead of changing into what could be taken as any pedophile’s dream, he instead changed into a figure completely covered in robes and wearing a veil, holding a floating crystal ball.  And before you ask, yes he did also change into a woman (you knew that feminine voice was going to lead to some kind of gender-swapping, didn’t you?) of a somewhat elderly age.  Basically, whereas Billy changed into the poster-child of Prince Charming from Shrek, Father Priestly’s change made him resemble one of those gypsy fortune-teller machine characters that you’d see in the carnival.

   Oddly enough, this change didn’t seem to shock or scare Father Priestly (or Seeress as she was now called), as she long accepted at this point that she was just in some drunken stupor or something of the like (even though the transformation had made her new form completely sober).   She slowly shuffled her way out of the pub as quickly as her now elderly legs could shuffle her, as she made her way to the streets.

   Spotting one of the obviously important villagers (another Everyman that looked exactly like the last) walking around during the night, Seeress decided to follow them out of curiosity.  Consulting the crystal ball, she knew deep down that there was more to the identity of the Everymen that met the eye.

   As she continued secretly tailing the Everyman, the crystal ball showed her a familiar image: that of a woman happily humming while putting together a floral arrangement of a sickly dog: Florabelle.  The crystal ball continued to show almost sickly happy images of Flora, which Seeress knew that it meant Flora was a good person.

   Things took a sudden turn the moment Seeress almost stepped out to reveal herself to the Everyman.  As Everyman-Flora approached the village brothel with the Seeress close behind, the crystal ball began to glow a crimson color warning of danger.  Before she could react, the Seeress was suddenly transported out of the area where action was about to happen, and taken to a much less boring area back in the pub.  She attempted to leave to try to save Everyman-Flora, but it was as if the very spirits refused to let her leave.

   Back near the brothel, Everyman-Flora was resting for a moment, wondering when he would stop looking like the advertisement for average unremarkable brunette males wearing boring white tunics.  As he was resting, an ominous duo of figures loomed in the shadows nearby.  Everyman-Flora beckoned to them, as the figures came closer, and suddenly turned into one towering, menacing, and furry creature.  As the now singular creature stepped out of shadow, it revealed itself to be the main antagonist of this story: a colossal werewolf.

   Letting out a completely unimpressive manly scream, the Werewolf lunged at Everyman-Flora and covered him in shadow, leaving whatever action happened to the imagination of the reader (perhaps they settled their differences and had tea together? I’ll personally believe this one).  After the disappointment of action happening off-page, the night sky was instantly replaced by a brighter, yet cloudy and more somber morning sky.  Everyone was suddenly back in bed with absolutely no warning (save for the dead new victim), back to looking like their normal selves, and just now waking up from a deep sleep despite some of them being awake just seconds before.

The day had just begun, and already it was a day that they wouldn’t soon forget.

Oooo, now this is fun. Self-referential humour is one of my favourite things. Do be careful not to go too overboard on the "Ha ha this is a story," however, since I imagine some people would find it grates over time.

I do appreciate how the action of the Werewolf game really fit with turning into a story. It neatly establishes what the characters can do, and then pulls the rug out from under them. XD Nice.

In terms of style, a good rule of thumb is "New speaker, new line." Strictly speaking each paragraph should have one topic at once, but figuring out where to cut them is eh. So for example:

During the deliberations, one of the unimportant unnamed villagers (because why would a non-main have a name outside of maybe “Steve”?) walked up and started asking the questions that the readers would be asking during this point.  “Hey, shouldn’t you actually be going out and finding this killer rather than sitting and talking?” they asked, to which our characters simply laughed at them. 

“What? Search for a dangerous killer?  Are you mad?” Smithy asked, as Prentiss nodded.

 “Yeah, like we’re going to go out and actually look for this bad guy.  For all we know, it’s one of us here, hence why we’re asking each other questions and resorting to baseless accusations.” she replied.

It's a really tiny change, but it ups the clarity and coherency for the readers. I believe the only spots where multiple speakers share the same paragraph would be if they all said the same thing simultaneously, or if the perspective is stuck in a crowd and it is supposed to be disorientating. Then again the same effect can be reached by chopping off all dialogue tags, so, it would be up to the writer's discretion.

Course, if the same person speaks again with nothing important happening in the middle, then they can stay in their paragraph, so it's not like every single bit of dialogue is abandoned to the wind. Plus, if the actor/subject of the paragraph is the same person who speaks, they get to stay on the same paragraph to (as in p1 of the quote). I dunno, it's all up to your discretion.

Yeah, I'm trying to keep the self-referentials somewhat restrained, since I realize it will come off as more humdrum and repetitive if gets to be too much.

At this time after this chapter, I'm trying to keep it to at most once or twice a chapter unless the opportunity for it just feels perfect in a moment.

I'll admit that the new speaker new line philosophy makes sense, I just don't to make too many space jumps at a time since I also hate shortened paragraphs...so it's a balance I'm fighting with.

I appreciate the feedback so far.  I'll be working on Chapter 3 when I get off work.

Another day, and this time stuff outside of just sitting and talking happened.  Nothing particularly exciting, but at least things happened!

And as promised, this chapter cuts back a bit on the self-referential jokes while still keeping it light.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

   Another day, and another scream to help wake up the sleeping villagers from their peaceful dreaming.  It was a very loud, high pitched, and feminine scream coming from the direction of the brothel...the place where Flora was last seen by Father Priestly when he was in the form of the Seeress.

   Coincidentally, Father Priestly was the first to wake from his bed.  Sitting up, he quickly felt his upper chest, noting the lack of breasts that were once there.  He let out a small sigh of relief at not being an elderly woman in her late 80s anymore, as he lifted his spritely 75 year old body out of bed. His eyes turned to his apprentice in the bed next to his, as Billy woke up shortly after.

   “Father, is everything alright?” Billy asked, as Father Priestly nodded.  “I think so my son, it seems like it’ll be peaceful day today.” Father Priestly replied, as Billy stepped out of bed.  Walking over to the mirror, he was almost disappointed to see that his immensely handsome self with his striking blue eyes, flowing blond hair, chiseled chin and sculpted face and its lush lips were gone.  In its place was his normal immensely handsome self with his striking green eyes and short brunette hair and lush lips on a beautifully sculpted face.

   Refusing to be ignored, the same loud, high-pitched scream repeated itself near the same location, this time being acknowledged by the Father and Billy.  They quickly changed out of their pajamas and made their way out of the church, heading toward the direction of the screams.

   Laying against the brothel was the corpse of Flora, looking as if she was torn apart and re-sewn together with various objects that made her resemble the sickly dog from the floral arrangement that she had made previously.  Standing near was the villager who had let out the scream – a tall, muscular, macho-looking and intimidating male villager.

   “I was walkin’ by, gettin’ ready to pick some lovely daisies in that there forest when I walked by and found ‘er.” The villager spoke in a high-pitched, thick-accented womanly voice that contradicted his features completely.  This didn’t seem to catch any of the villagers by surprise, however, seeing as how this was the village Chief that had given many speeches throughout the village.

   Prentiss was the last to make her way up, leaving from what looked to be the village pub.  “Wha? What's going on?” she asked as some of the villagers parted so she could see the corpse.  “Wait, is that…?” She started, as her face began to well-up with tears.  “Flora, no!” she screamed out as some of the villagers held her back.

   “I’m so sorry Prentiss, I know how much she meant to you...” Priestly acknowledged, as he turned to the Chief.  “Chief, I’d like to hold a Celebration of Life, if I may.  I know it’s not entirely formal since we haven’t even buried the body, but with the attacks going on, I’d like to honor Flora now before we’re faced with the possibility of having to do this again tomorrow.”  He then turned the crowd, and continued.  “Of course, everyone is welcome to speak, but no flowers...please.  If anything, I’d like to create a new foundation in Flora’s name.  I’d like to call it the Cruelty Against Werewolves foundation, and donations are always welcome.”

   One of the younger male villagers raised his hand.  “Shouldn’t it be the Anti-Werewolf Foundation, or the Families Against Werewolves Foundation or something like that?  Cruelty Against Werewolves sounds as if we actually sympathize with the thing that’s killing our people.”

   As if not hearing him, Priestly continued.  “Dearly beloved, we gather here today to say our final goodbyes to one of our village greats.  Florabelle was the village beauty and had impeccable...yet admittedly odd taste when it came to her passion of making floral arrangements.  But unusual as she could be, she equally had a passion for justice, just desserts, and the occasional dessert...but who among us wasn’t passionate about those things?  We honor this woman and her memories, as well as her life that was tragically cut short by a vicious monster.  Oh father, we ask that you strike fear into the hearts of the scum amongst us, who would do such harm to such an amazing woman.  Know this, monsters, we are coming for you! By my last breath, your very souls will be vanquished from this land, back to the hell from whence you came!” Priestly stated as a single tear rushed down his cheek.  He stepped away from the conveniently placed podium, as Surly Sue was the next to approach.

   “Uh... Uh... She was a good lady, or something.” Surly Sue said simply as she stepped away from the podium, back to leaning against the wall of the brothel.  “That's all you have to say? I find your lack of compassion disturbing...” Father Priestly noted as Surly Sue was filing her nails.  “Sorry, but I am choked after what happened last night. I should add that I was crying all the way to and from the podium.” She said simply as the villagers looked at each other.  Crying? They seemed to recall her looking as if she was bored out of her mind and saying something out of obligation.

   Father Priestly, however, seemed like he had bought it.  “I'm sorry I lashed out like that, Sue. Grief makes me irrational sometimes. I shouldn't pass judgment on the way anyone else grieves.” he said apologetically as Surly Sue simply waved her hand in a “whatever, it’s cool” fashion.

   “Though I didn't know the victim well, I was always told how much of a generous soul she was. We most definitely are less without Florabelle.” Billy said next, as the some of the villagers couldn’t help but quietly scoff at the idea.  Sure, the village was a little less now without its beauty, but that was only because now they’d have to find someone else they could call the “village beauty.” But generous? Unless Billy had been asleep under a rock, she surely wasn’t that.  In fact, many had recalled the time that a traveler had stumbled into the village in desperate need of a hospital after he had fallen off the mountain.  Rather than taking him to the doctor, however, Flora simply talked his ear off about her boy troubles.  The traveler died during her conversation and was taken and buried in the cemetery by one of the other villagers (Flora had thought he was just being rude to get out of talking to her).  On top of all that, she had taken the flowers from his grave to finish off her floral arrangement of a sad clown that she was working on.

   After some more speeches, one of the unnamed villagers looked around the crowd.  “So...I get that we’re honoring someone who died, but shouldn’t we be figuring out how to protect ourselves so that we’re not next?” he asked as the other villagers mumbled in agreement.

   “He’s right.  We should gather again somewhere and figure out which one of us is the bad guy.” Priestly said, as Smithy walked up and turned to him.  “But where should we go this time?” he asked, as Billy replied back.  “I think we should go somewhere quiet, like the village library.” he stated, as Prentiss shook her head in disagreement.  “No, we should go to the Hootah building, it’s what Flora would have wanted for us.” she replied as some of the others nodded in agreement.  Billy sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win this argument.  “Fine, Hootah’s it is.” he said simply, wondering if it was really appropriate for Baldwin to be joining them in such a sordid place.

   Despite it being a solemn day, Hootah was busy as it normally was.  Some of the other village beauties, both men and women alike, were dancing among their poles half-naked for their eager customers.  Prentiss picked the spot for the group: a booth away from the action, but still loud because of the music playing throughout thanks to the band behind the stage.

   The group ordered a round of the village’s newest delicacy: strips of potato with unique seasoning and coated in a unique, thick sauce made from tomatoes (the inventor called them “Fries” and “Ketchup”).  Baldwin was given a smaller portion for himself, as Priestly took a bite of his fry and decided to speak.

   “Well, I think we should just get right down to it.  I think Surly Sue did it.” Priestly said simply as Surly Sue (who was distracted watching one of the performers) heard her name and quickly looked at her accuser.  “Wait, what?” She questioned, as Priestly looked unsure.  “I’m sorry, I just really want someone to pay for Flora.” he replied.   “How about lynching Flora’s dead body, in memory of him?” Surly Sue asked as everything suddenly went quiet, everyone in Hootah turning to her in surprise.  “Sorry, it was a bad joke, I guess.”

   “This is fun.” Tiny said simply as he ate some more of the fries.  “Fun? Fun?! A woman is dead, have you no heart?!” Priestly shouted as Billy turned to him.  “Father, I’ve never seen you so...reasonably logic like this.  Have you had a drink today?” he asked as Priestly shook his head.  “I haven’t had one since last night.” he replied as everything suddenly went quiet again, everyone in Hootah now turning to him in surprise.  “Good god man, have you no shame?! Please do everyone a favor and have a drink!” Smithy pleaded as Priestly turned his head away from a drink being offered to him.  “No! I mustn’t!” he said simply as Baldwin started crying.  “For goodness sake, please Father! Do it for Flora!” Smithy pleaded once more.

   Ignoring them and taking a drink of water, Priestly turned to Prentiss.  “You know, Prentiss has been awfully quiet since we got here.  I’m starting to think she’s forgotten English to pick up a new language...like Wolfenese!” he shouted as he pointed an accusatory finger her way.  “Now that sounds like the Father we all know and love.” Smithy stated, as Billy quickly hid something in his hand.  “Yes, I may have spiked the father’s drink so he could be back to his old self.” he explained as Tiny sighed with relief.  “Thank goodness, I worry about him when he’s all sober and logical like that.” he said gratefully as the others nodded in agreement.

   “I was actually starting to worry that the Father was projecting for a moment.  I almost started to believe that he was the one who murdered dear Flora.” Billy stated as Prentiss wasn’t buying it.  “Who’s to say he wasn’t the one?” she asked, as the father drunkenly replied.  “Guys! Flora and I were lovers, why would I kill her?” He asked as he took a drink of ale that he had ordered after he’d accused Prentiss.  “Moreover, if I was trying to pass suspicion off on Flora, why would I kill her? Pretty hard for people to believe a dead woman (rest her soul) is the Werewolf, wouldn't you say?” she continued, as Billy sighed.  “Why must you insist on being so logical even in your drunken state?!”

   “And we are already quarreling amongst ourselves. We’re doomed.” Smithy sighed as he decided it was time for him to have some drinks of his own.  “And how would you know?” Tiny asked in an accusing tone with an equally accusatory stare.

   “Tiny has been suspiciously quiet for most of this.  Plus his lack of hair is unsettling.” Priestly stated in between belches as he passed out for a moment at the table.  “Yeah! Not having hair is unsettling! We should kill everyone without hair!” Surly Sue stated in an equally drunken state, as the others couldn’t help but look at her with unsure expressions.

   “I’m sorry I’ve been quiet, I’ve been writing some letters to my pen-pal over in the far-off village of Retronia.  But perhaps this wig will convince you to spare my life?” Tiny asked as he pulled out and put on a blonde wig that made him look rather dashing.  Surly Sue seemed convinced, almost to the point that she seemed ready to get down and dirty with him.

   “Your actions speak loudly, however it is not my place to determine your fate. Simply know that whatever happens, I firmly advocate no killing.” Father Priestly mumbled as he woke up for a moment before passing out again.  Billy looked at his drunken master as he sighed.  “I, too, am hip with the nonviolence. I think we should wait and see how things progress again.” he replied, much to the chagrin of the other occupants in the building (who had all went quiet and watched the group with eager anticipation of their choice).

   “I agree we the non-killing.” Surly Sue stated as she herself also passed out from the drinks.  Baldwin and Tiny, not knowing what to make of anything that was happening, simply nodded their heads in agreement with the others.  Knowing that the others were firm in their decision, Prentiss and Smithy grudgingly went along with the group’s decision.

   Despite the death of a prominent figure of the village, it seemed that once again, things would play out naturally.  As Prentiss was about to grab the last fry, the sky suddenly went dark as the moon lit the sky once more.  Before anyone had known it, the nameless villagers were suddenly in bed asleep, while the group was this time scattered throughout the village.  It seemed that it was time for the real show to begin once again.

And here's Chapter 4!  Once again, this mimics the choices of the 2nd Night phase, though with some changes in how the attack happens as well as events surrounding it.  Since last chapter had really no self-referential moments/jokes, I threw 2 in here since it felt right.

And here's the current tally, btw:

Flora --- Everyman (Wintermoot) Deceased
Baldwin --- ? ? ?
Billy ---Knightman (Vinaza)
Priestly  ---Seeress (Amalya)
Prentiss --- ? ? ?
Smithy --- ? ? ?
Tiny --- ? ? ?
Surly Sue --- Everyman (? ? ?)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4

   This was almost getting tiresome.  Not only was the sky suddenly switching on a whim ever since the meteor strike...but it was becoming irritating for the group to be pulled away from what they were doing and randomly appearing somewhere else when it decided to switch.  It was also an inconvenience to the unnamed villagers who were out selling their wares or having a nice family dinner, only to suddenly be fast asleep in bed while their wares sat unattended...their feast sitting on the table waiting to be eaten.

   Despite the feelings about this new chaotic shifting, Billy was at least pleased to see his hand emitting the familiar glow in the moonlight (thankfully without the dirty-talk this time).  He eagerly pressed it as the familiar light surrounded him, presenting him with his handsome-knightly self when it faded.  He took a moment to admire himself in one of the windows, as he decided once again to protect himself from the potential threat that was lurking in the village.

   However, something was wrong.  Despite his attempt to use his power, it wouldn’t work.  “Oh, I did forget to mention one lovely fact my handsome vessel.” a voice said as Knightman turned to the window.  “You see, you can only protect the same person for only one night in a row.  Your power needs a night to recharge for that particular person, so you have to find someone else to use it on.” his reflection stated, as Knightman sighed and thought to himself. As he walked the streets and pondered to himself who to protect, it came to him.  Why not the villager from before that had run from him?  Surely this time they’d be more than happy to have his protection now that someone had died.  But how could he find them? Every villager at this time looked the same, as he had realized the first night.  Even the Everyman who had ran from him had thought it was just another Everyman chasing him, making it more difficult for him to distinguish who actually needed the protection.

   As he was deciding who to protect, Knightman spotted an Everyman walking the streets near the village library.  Unlike last time, Knightman decided to be a bit more stealthy in his approach, deciding to not alert the Everyman and risk him running.  Using his power, he placed a forcefield around the Everyman that moved alongside him.  The Everyman didn’t seem alerted by the sudden forcefield surrounding him, which told Knightman that only he could see them.

   Much like when Seeress used her power, Knightman was transported away from the villager the moment he used his power.  Now he was suddenly back in his bed as Billy, dreaming away in dreamland while, in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made the right choice.

   Elsewhere in the village, Father Priestly had once again begrudgingly changed into the elderly Seeress.  This time, she was following an Everyman that was getting a drink of water at the village fountain.  So far, she had seen the Everyman hanging at the fountain, in the fields, and near the village’s outdoor stage.  Nothing about the Everyman had screamed bad guy, but the Seeress had to be sure.

   Once again, the Seeress implored her crystal ball to reveal to her the truth of this Everyman’s origins.  As she looked into the crystal ball, it began to show clear images of another familiar woman of the group.  There were memories of various clientele that this woman had, various specials that she hosted when she sold her “wares,” such as her famous “No Pants Day” special.  Much like Flora, these seemed like happy memories, and nothing about them felt particularly threatening as the crystal ball emitted a faint white glow.  The Seeress, feeling the warm glow followed by the happy memories knew what this meant: Surly Sue, the Everyman she was being shown, was safe...another harmless villager with no extraordinary qualities, despite the meteor choosing to involve her (and despite any reader hoping she’d have some ability tied to her...sensual nature).

   As Seeress received her answer, she noticed that unlike the last time...she wasn’t being pulled away from her person.  It was in that revelation that she noticed her crystal ball glowing a warm blue color, as she what what it had meant.  The Seeress closed her eyes as she used her power to send a magical ball of light toward the Everyman-Sue.  Everyman-Sue, who had stopped for a moment to catch her breath, felt the ball of blue light go into her, as she turned to the sender.

   As she faced the person who sent the light at her, she realized that she was now able to see the Seeress for what she truly was, and the Seeress could now see Surly Sue as herself, sporting the mark of the average Everyman on her hand.

   “Wait...Father Priestly? Is that you?” Surly Sue asked, realizing that she could now speak.

  “Yes.  And before you ask, only I can hear and see you speak, and likewise only you can hear and see me.  To everyone else, they’ll see what you saw me as before I used my magic on you.” Seeress explained as Everyman-Sue giggled.  “I was actually more curious as to why you look like an old woman.” She replied as Seeress sighed.  “That’s...an interesting story for later on.”

   As they talked, a familiar pull hit them both, and before they knew it they were suddenly back in bed, fast asleep as if they’d been that way for a while.  In the back of her mind, however, Seeress knew that her new ally meant they were much closer to a victory.

   Back near the library, the Everyman that was surrounded by Knightman’s protection had decided to take a rest, lamenting their role in this whole affair.  Not only were the Everymen forced to change into such each night (unlike Billy and Priestly who could change into a different form despite looking like an Everyman to the others), but they had no choice but to walk the streets aimlessly, making themselves targets for the Werewolf as if it was a curse (or just terrible character direction).  Likewise, the Everymen were mute, incapable of even moving their lips except to scream for their life.  Even Knightman and Seeress would appear to be a mute Everyman to them...their voices unable to penetrate the field of silence that surrounded the average Everyman.

   It was this that the Werewolf would excite in taking the most advantage of.  It was fortunate that the Werewolf could see who the Everyman truly were (it could see the true person's spirit within the Everyman), though it couldn’t see their true form (meaning even Seeress and Knightman would look like an Everyman to it).  But since the Werewolf looked like them before it transformed, this meant that the Everyman wouldn’t see them coming until their final moments.  With Flora, the Werewolf took great pleasure seeing the terrified look on Everyman-Flora’s face when she saw it approach and transform, and every scream she made was like unwrapping the Christmas present you’ve been greatly anticipating.

   As the Everyman surrounded by the forcefield walked near the Hootah building, he was being watched from afar by two other Everyman who seemed unaffected by the curse that plagued most of the others.  They looked toward each other as a sinister grin appeared on each of their faces.  “I think we’ve found our target, don’t you think?” The first asked in an average mid-pitched male voice, as the other turned to the first.  “I agree, that one seems perfect.” the other stated.

   Both of the Everyman then held out their hand, each sporting a crimson red mark shaped like a wolf, as they clasped their hands together with the same sinister grins on their face.  “No...I don’t want this!” A familiar voice screamed in the first Everyman’s head.  “Please, stop this!” A second familiar voice pleaded in the second Everyman’s head.  Both Everyman laughed, knowing the pleading voices meant nothing, seeing as they both had full control over their vessels both in and out of the night.

   “Now, let’s claim our victim together!” Both shouted as one as a crimson wind surrounded them like a tornado.  Inside, the two Everymen came together, transforming in shadow into a large hulking, furry beast.  When the crimson wind dissipated, a large black Werewolf with golden eyes stood in the Everymen’s place, as it caught the lone Everyman in its sights.

   The Everyman was now near the church, Knightman’s protection magic still surrounding him.  Internally, he couldn’t help but wonder when the monotony of walking would be over with.  As he contemplated the end of what felt like an eternal punishment, he heard a growl from behind him.  Knowing what this meant, he turned to see the imposing figure of the Werewolf looking toward him, sporting an eerie grin on its face.  The Everyman was terrified...but something inside of him felt relief as well, relief knowing that his torment would soon be over.

   The Werewolf sprinted toward the Everyman as it leaped high into the air, readying its claws to strike at the helpless thing.  The Everyman, ready for his fate closed his eyes, anticipating the attack and hoping deep down that it wouldn’t be painful.

   Fate was a cruel mistress, however, as the Werewolf landed on top of the forcefield surrounding the Everyman.  The Everyman opened his eyes, realizing what had happened.  No! No, please don’t do this to me! I’m ready to die! I don’t want to suffer this anymore! It pleaded internally, attempting to speak despite its teeth and lips acting as if they were glued shut.

   The Werewolf pounded on the forcefield, furious that its prey was so close.  The only thing on its mind was cold-blooded murder and the thought of an Everyman steak made from this one’s flesh, as it slashed and clawed the forcefield.  However, the forcefield was resilient and despite the Werewolf and Everyman’s protests, didn’t allow the Werewolf to pass through it.

   As the Werewolf continued its relentless assault to reach the villager, the sky itself had grown tired of watching the repetitiveness of it all.  Without warning, the sun appeared in the sky as morning came without warning.  Likewise, the Everymen as well as the Werewolf disappeared from the streets, once again reappearing in their beds as if they had been there the whole time.  They had begun to wake as if from a long sleep, as the new morning was about to begin.  But this morning would be different, because not only did the two killers remember the night...but now two newly established allies did as well.