Werewolf The Zombie horde win

[jmoo wan]

So why jmoo

 

[Gralin]

MODNOTE

Let's support DP who was thrust into doing the deadline and on public transport.

Cadsky died as Zombie/villager

Ah but how did he live?

 

[Gralin]

 

[jannissary]

So why jmoo

that's what i saw voted when i checked in earlier, i didn't have time to check through all the pages

 

[Nothing]

Ah but how did he live?

Martin Renshaw has long been a cornerstone of the village, a steady and reliable presence who ran the beloved bakery, The Golden Loaf. Known for his warm smile and the constant dusting of flour on his clothes, Martin was the kind of man who remembered everyone’s name and their favorite bread.

Early Life​

Born into a family of bakers, Martin learned the trade from his father, a stern but fair man who believed that a well-made loaf was a reflection of one’s character. His mother, softer and more nurturing, taught him the importance of kindness, saying, “A baker feeds more than just the body; he feeds the heart of a community.”

Martin was the youngest of four siblings, and while his older brothers pursued trades in carpentry and blacksmithing, he stayed in the family bakery, drawn to the art of turning simple ingredients into something magical. By 16, he was already experimenting with new recipes and had a reputation for the best rye bread in the region.

Adulthood and Struggles​

By the time Martin took over the bakery in his late 20s, he had already faced his share of challenges. A harsh winter had claimed his father, leaving him to care for his aging mother and the family business. He worked tirelessly, often sleeping by the oven to ensure the village had bread during the hardest of times.

Martin never married, though not for lack of opportunity. Some speculated he was too devoted to his craft to make time for romance; others believed his heart had been broken by a girl who left the village years ago. Regardless, his love for the bakery and his community remained unwavering.

The bakery wasn’t just a place to buy bread—it was the heart of the village. Martin would often host gatherings there, offering fresh rolls in exchange for stories and laughter.

The Dark Times​

When the undead plague swept through the village, the bakery became more than just a bakery—it became a refuge. Martin refused to abandon his post, baking round the clock to ensure the survivors had something to sustain them. His shop was often filled with frightened villagers, whispering rumors of who might be infected.

But as the days grew darker, so did Martin. He grieved deeply for the friends he had lost, people who had once filled his bakery with life. Yet, his grief turned into resolve. “They took my friends,” he said one night, staring into the flickering light of his oven. “They won’t take my town.”

Martin Today​

In his late 30s, Martin has become an anchor for the survivors. His sharp memory for details and ability to read people make him a trusted voice in the town’s efforts to identify the Zombies. His bakery remains a symbol of hope, though the cheery warmth it once held has been replaced by a somber determination.

He keeps a heavy rolling pin close at hand—not for kneading dough, but as a weapon, should the undead find their way into his haven. Every loaf he bakes now feels like a small act of defiance against the darkness threatening to consume them all.

Martin "The Baker" Renshaw is no warrior, but his courage and dedication have earned him a place among the town’s fiercest defenders. In the face of the apocalypse, he’s proved that even the simplest of acts—baking bread—can be an act of heroism.

 

[MarcMaverick]

View attachment 2177699

"Woooow!"
"Unbelievable!!!!!!."

 

[MarcMaverick]

Martin Renshaw has long been a cornerstone of the village, a steady and reliable presence who ran the beloved bakery, The Golden Loaf. Known for his warm smile and the constant dusting of flour on his clothes, Martin was the kind of man who remembered everyone’s name and their favorite bread.

Early Life​

Born into a family of bakers, Martin learned the trade from his father, a stern but fair man who believed that a well-made loaf was a reflection of one’s character. His mother, softer and more nurturing, taught him the importance of kindness, saying, “A baker feeds more than just the body; he feeds the heart of a community.”

Martin was the youngest of four siblings, and while his older brothers pursued trades in carpentry and blacksmithing, he stayed in the family bakery, drawn to the art of turning simple ingredients into something magical. By 16, he was already experimenting with new recipes and had a reputation for the best rye bread in the region.

Adulthood and Struggles​

By the time Martin took over the bakery in his late 20s, he had already faced his share of challenges. A harsh winter had claimed his father, leaving him to care for his aging mother and the family business. He worked tirelessly, often sleeping by the oven to ensure the village had bread during the hardest of times.

Martin never married, though not for lack of opportunity. Some speculated he was too devoted to his craft to make time for romance; others believed his heart had been broken by a girl who left the village years ago. Regardless, his love for the bakery and his community remained unwavering.

The bakery wasn’t just a place to buy bread—it was the heart of the village. Martin would often host gatherings there, offering fresh rolls in exchange for stories and laughter.

The Dark Times​

When the undead plague swept through the village, the bakery became more than just a bakery—it became a refuge. Martin refused to abandon his post, baking round the clock to ensure the survivors had something to sustain them. His shop was often filled with frightened villagers, whispering rumors of who might be infected.

But as the days grew darker, so did Martin. He grieved deeply for the friends he had lost, people who had once filled his bakery with life. Yet, his grief turned into resolve. “They took my friends,” he said one night, staring into the flickering light of his oven. “They won’t take my town.”

Martin Today​

In his late 30s, Martin has become an anchor for the survivors. His sharp memory for details and ability to read people make him a trusted voice in the town’s efforts to identify the Zombies. His bakery remains a symbol of hope, though the cheery warmth it once held has been replaced by a somber determination.

He keeps a heavy rolling pin close at hand—not for kneading dough, but as a weapon, should the undead find their way into his haven. Every loaf he bakes now feels like a small act of defiance against the darkness threatening to consume them all.

Martin "The Baker" Renshaw is no warrior, but his courage and dedication have earned him a place among the town’s fiercest defenders. In the face of the apocalypse, he’s proved that even the simplest of acts—baking bread—can be an act of heroism.

That sounds like a "Who Am I" question from SOTC.

 

[Gralin]

Martin Renshaw has long been a cornerstone of the village, a steady and reliable presence who ran the beloved bakery, The Golden Loaf. Known for his warm smile and the constant dusting of flour on his clothes, Martin was the kind of man who remembered everyone’s name and their favorite bread.

Early Life​

Born into a family of bakers, Martin learned the trade from his father, a stern but fair man who believed that a well-made loaf was a reflection of one’s character. His mother, softer and more nurturing, taught him the importance of kindness, saying, “A baker feeds more than just the body; he feeds the heart of a community.”

Martin was the youngest of four siblings, and while his older brothers pursued trades in carpentry and blacksmithing, he stayed in the family bakery, drawn to the art of turning simple ingredients into something magical. By 16, he was already experimenting with new recipes and had a reputation for the best rye bread in the region.

Adulthood and Struggles​

By the time Martin took over the bakery in his late 20s, he had already faced his share of challenges. A harsh winter had claimed his father, leaving him to care for his aging mother and the family business. He worked tirelessly, often sleeping by the oven to ensure the village had bread during the hardest of times.

Martin never married, though not for lack of opportunity. Some speculated he was too devoted to his craft to make time for romance; others believed his heart had been broken by a girl who left the village years ago. Regardless, his love for the bakery and his community remained unwavering.

The bakery wasn’t just a place to buy bread—it was the heart of the village. Martin would often host gatherings there, offering fresh rolls in exchange for stories and laughter.

The Dark Times​

When the undead plague swept through the village, the bakery became more than just a bakery—it became a refuge. Martin refused to abandon his post, baking round the clock to ensure the survivors had something to sustain them. His shop was often filled with frightened villagers, whispering rumors of who might be infected.

But as the days grew darker, so did Martin. He grieved deeply for the friends he had lost, people who had once filled his bakery with life. Yet, his grief turned into resolve. “They took my friends,” he said one night, staring into the flickering light of his oven. “They won’t take my town.”

Martin Today​

In his late 30s, Martin has become an anchor for the survivors. His sharp memory for details and ability to read people make him a trusted voice in the town’s efforts to identify the Zombies. His bakery remains a symbol of hope, though the cheery warmth it once held has been replaced by a somber determination.

He keeps a heavy rolling pin close at hand—not for kneading dough, but as a weapon, should the undead find their way into his haven. Every loaf he bakes now feels like a small act of defiance against the darkness threatening to consume them all.

Martin "The Baker" Renshaw is no warrior, but his courage and dedication have earned him a place among the town’s fiercest defenders. In the face of the apocalypse, he’s proved that even the simplest of acts—baking bread—can be an act of heroism.

Wow I didn't realise we lost the baker

That's annoying what am I going to put my bacon and eggs on now?

 

[Nothing]

Wow I didn't realise we lost the baker

That's annoying what am I going to put my bacon and eggs on now?

I didn't either until you asked.

 

[Gralin]

Any suggestions for who I attempt to help and possibly kill instead?

 

[MarcMaverick]

Wow I didn't realise we lost the baker

That's annoying what am I going to put my bacon and eggs on now?

More Bacon and eggs?

 

[Gralin]

More Bacon and eggs?

Maybe i can find some waffles somewhere

 

[MarcMaverick]

Maybe i can find some waffles somewhere

Waffles are nice! Especially Quinoa or Chia Seed based ones.

 

[Gralin]

Waffles are nice!

Especially Quinoa or Chia Seed based ones.

 

[Tarkyn_24]

Hey Mafia if you want to keep the village in check while we all go zombie hunting, I’d suggest Gra Gra

 

[MarcMaverick]

Sorry. I have been making a lot of Quinoa based dinners as of late.

 

[MarcMaverick]

I made a Spag-Bol with Diced Roo and Quinoa/Lentil mix instead of Pasta and Diced Beef and it was Awesome.

 

[MarcMaverick]

Trick is to marinate the Roo for 2 nights at least.

 

[Gralin]

Hey Mafia if you want to keep the village in check while we all go zombie hunting, I’d suggest Gra Gra

Hear that Pie!

 

[Tarkyn_24]

Hear that Pie!

I’m happy to keep the incompetent village roles around

 

[boncer34]

So evils knocking of the vig? Interesting way to weed out zombies.

 

[Gralin]

I’m happy to keep the incompetent village roles around

Who do you reckon they'll bite?

 

[Tarkyn_24]

Who do you reckon they'll bite?

Myself or Pie

 

[Gralin]

Myself or Pie

Well i can't try and protect you both

 

[Tarkyn_24]

Well i can't try and protect you both

And to think I insinuated you were competent