Werewolf Sherlock Holmes & the WereHounds of the Baskervilles

[myblueroan]

Night 1 Review.
HEAR YE, HEAR YE! TERRIBLE TIDING FROM THE MOOR!
On this, the morn of our most dreadful Night One, foul play has struck!
Let it be known that Vigilante MRS HUDSON, the darling housekeeper of Baker St, beloved server of tea and biscuits for Sherlock and Dr Watson - also, brave protector of Baskerville, was found clawed to ribbons by what appears to be... a very large and extremely impolite dog. His pistol was unfired, his hat was missing, and the village is now officially 37% less defended.
But wait, there’s more!
Tragedy strikes again as Old Edwin, beloved grumbler and long-time village resident of Baskerville, was discovered behind the pub with a suspicious coin in his mouth and a sign reading "Late payments mean permanent solutions." The Mafia, it seems, have made their point.
Lock your doors, sharpen your pitchforks, and for the love of Queen Victoria—trust no one.
Mrs Hudson- Vigilante = Cursing Fijian
Killed by Werehounds

Old Edwin- BaskerVillian villager= Cats_09
Killed by Mafia

It is now Day 1.

 

[Kurve]

DEADLINE

STOP THE PRESSES! MOB JUSTICE CLAIMS LOCAL BREAD ENTHUSIAST!
Today, in a stunning display of logic, deduction, and absolutely no evidence whatsoever, the village voted to lynch Mildred Butterwhistle, a humble Baskervillager.
Accused of being “a bit too quiet”, Mildred's final words were, “But I only came for the points!”

ZergMinion (Baskervillager) Lynched

It is now Night 2.

 

[myblueroan]

Morning arrives, dragging its feet through the fog like a butler who’s seen too much.
The townsfolk of Baskerville emerge from their creaking homes, noses twitching at the scent of fresh dread.
Charles Magnussen is dead.
In life, a gentleman of means. In truth, a Mafia Blackmailer with ears in every keyhole. He won’t be blackmailing anyone now—unless ghosts take up gossip.
But the night was greedy.
The Hunter has also fallen.
A quiet figure with a sharp eye and a sharper instinct—snuffed out like a lantern in a storm.
Yet death did not find them unprepared.
With one final breath and steady aim, they dragged another into the dark...

Charles Magnussen - MAFIA BLACKMAILER = Demure Princess
Killed by WereHounds

The Hunter - Talented Baskervillian = DANK
KIlled by MORIARTY

It is now Day 2 in Baskerville.

 

[myblueroan]

Long suspected of being just a little too enthusiastic about the full moon, Jeff Long has been dragged to justice… or at least to a very firm conclusion.
Beneath the grim exterior and suspicious drooling, one truth emerged:
A Rabid Wolf. Hungry, unhinged, and now—mercifully—unmoving.

But in Baskerville, the line between man and monster is rarely that clear.

STRIGOI- RABID WOLF - LYNCHED.

Night falls again. Doors lock. Eyes watch.

 

[myblueroan]

Morning creeps in, slower than usual—as if even the sun had to stop and stare.
For once, the fog carries not just dread… but something almost unfamiliar in Baskerville: hope.
The Golem, towering, tireless, and very much undead—has fallen.

It was the Mafia who struck the blow, though whether by strategy or sheer dumb luck, no one dares ask.
A monster slain by murderers—a momentous victory, morally complicated but deeply satisfying.
For now, the shadows are a touch less crowded.

The Golem- Head Vampire ...Beaston killed by Mafia.

It is now Day 3 in Baskerville.

 

[myblueroan]

An Announcement from the BaskerVille Department of Justice.

In the dead of night, a curious hum stirred the stillness.
Sherlock’s Deerstalker, especially modified by a crack team in the basement of Baker Street (mostly unpaid interns and one suspiciously clever ferret), blinked to life.
Infrared sensors activated. Gears turned with ominous purpose.

The hat—yes, the hat—took flight.

Gasps rippled through the village.

Those who had grumbled about minor roles shrank back.
Vanilla Ice -Cream enjoyers clutched their spoons.
Even the WereHounds whimpered.
One particularly pale figure was seen flossing their fangs in terror.
The Deerstalker soared with uncanny grace…
until it didn’t.
A splutter. A cough. A confused spin.


And then—kerplunk.
Straight into the Thames.


The most sophisticated assassination hat in known history now lies soggy and sullen at the bottom of the river.

Justice, it seems, is not waterproof.

 

[myblueroan]

Mod Announcement:
Clarification from the Council of Shadows, as recorded in the Blood-Lined Addendum:

It is a little-known truth—often whispered, rarely written—that the Vampire Head holds a unique and sinister gift: the ability to recruit any Night Immune player into their undead fold.

However, this unholy transformation comes at a cost.

Once turned, the newly embraced vampire loses their Night Immunity.
Why? Because Night Immunity belongs to the living, the cursed, or the cunning—not to the damned.
To walk in the Vampire Head’s shadow is to gain fangs... and lose your armor.
So be warned: The bite does not make you stronger. It merely changes your end.

As written in the OP, a Vampire is not Night Immune.
Upon careful reflection, our committee ruled that all Night Immunes may indeed be capable of succumbing to a Vampire Head's magnetic charm. We found no evidence to suggest repelling ability.


DIsclaimer: The above is for clarification purposes only. It does not serve to imply one way or the other if this has happened or will happen in the future. The Committee can not be held responsible for any theories, fanciful or otherwise, arising from the above.

 

[Kurve]

Beneath a blood-red moon on the windswept Dartmoor, the cursed werehound of the Baskervilles, its fur matted and eyes ablaze with primal fury, faced a grim fate at the hands of a frenzied mob. The villagers, armed with silver chains and righteous zeal, ensnared the beast—once the proud King —in a heavy woven noose.

Hoisted high on an ancient oak, the werehound thrashed and howled, its claws slashing futilely at the rope as the crowd chanted curses. As the silver burned its flesh and the noose tightened, the creature’s final, heart-wrenching cry pierced the night, fading into silence as the mob began to realise revenge would surely follow.

King Tenz - Beta Lynched

Edit: I forgot to put the funny bits in

 

[Kurve]

On the last fog-clagged dreadnight in the Baskervilles, four noble souls— Tarkyn as the reliable eyes and ears of the town, Marc the go-to for all manner of animal husbandry, Dingster who at all times looked great in a wet shirt and DERO who always shared his biscuits—met a grim fate as carnage was unleashed upon the good town.

The four, armed only with courage and DERO's weapon of slightly stale scones stuffed into a stocking of fine wool made a valiant stand, but alas ...

Tarkyn - Seer killed by Werehounds
Dingster - Doc killed by Mafia
Marc Maverick - Baskervillager killed by Flogs Constabulary and the JOAT
DERO - Flog Constabulatory killed by Vamps

 

[myblueroan]

Dawn slinks into Baskerville on cautious feet, as if afraid it might be next.
The fog is thicker than usual this morning—heavier, almost expectant. The village holds its breath. Two are missing. And the air reeks of blood... and burnt pipe tobacco.

Sherlock Holmes, the ever-watchful eye, the relentless investigator, the one-man arsenal of cleverness, has been found dead.
Not only was he the village Jack-of-All-Trades, but whisperers in the graveyard now reveal a darker twist: he had been turned—recruited by the Vampires.
A mind like his, gone to the shadows. A tragedy. A relief. Hard to say.

Meanwhile, Inspector Lestrade, loyal bulldog of the Baskerville Constabulary, has also fallen.
Reports suggest he met his end at the hands of none other than cunningly black-hearted super-villain, Moriarty.
Moriarty.
To most, a criminal mastermind. To Sherlock Holmes, a personal hobby gone horribly sentient.
Their rivalry was less “cat and mouse” and more “two cats with explosives tied to their tails, sprinting through a library.”
What a pity.
After all the cryptic clues, rooftop showdowns, and theatrical monologues, the greatest rivalry in Baskerville has ended—not with a bang, but with bureaucratic irony.
Sherlock Holmes, master of deduction, silenced in the night by the Mafia—no dramatic final confrontation, no chessboard finale, just a blade in the dark and a missing coat.
And for Moriarty, No genius. No arch-nemesis. Just a man with a clipboard and a very modest moustache.

One brain, one badge—both silenced. And somewhere in the distance, a howl that doesn’t quite sound like a dog.

SHERLOCK HOLMES - JOAT AND Vampire Recruit = MCBG. Killed by Mafia.

DETECTIVE LESTRADE - Baskerville Constabulary = WIZ. Killed by Moriarty.

It is now Day 5 in Baskerville.

Tread carefully—there’s less ground beneath your feet than you think.

 

[myblueroan]

Great thanks everyone.

So it's now

1pm for Deadline Lynch

5pm for Overnight Deadline

Next day lynch when all votes are locked in.
(no rush)

 

[myblueroan]

YOur hosts were up all night ensconsed in the Baskerville Library. We came across this priceless treasure. For those curious about a rarely seen person called The Hunter.