It looks like the only anti-town faction would be killer and the main gameplay would be deities' war. BTW, this setting is creepy.
Here are the night actions I had no time to add yesterday:
#1 (Caitie Reid)
Sneaking past the police tape Jack McGorrian put up after he arrived at the scene of the murder, Mary is unseen and unheard. She sneaks past a sleeping watchman and starts snooping over the stone beach the body of her friend Caitie was found in.
She digs up a broken watch, and promptly tosses it away. It was there too long to be important. A little to the left of where she found the watch, she suddenly notices a string snaking to the edge of the beach and into the river. A thin thread, taut as if connected to something at both ends. A quick tug at the beach side shows that it's firmly wrapped around a piece of driftwood embedded in the rocks so deeply as to be unmovable.
She begins to draw in the other side, quietly, and pulls in a bundle of wooden coins with a symbol she vaguely recognizes as connected to Tibet embossed on their surface. Underneath the enormous number of wooden coins, in the center of the formerly-plastic-wrapped bundle she pulled in, is a thin oblong object wrapped in paper. Unfolding the paper indicates that the object is a severed human finger and the paper is a note. The words are practically illegible, scrawled madly and with a hint of urgency. But she makes out "Offering" and "Sranadha", words printed with almost obsessive care wherever they appear on the page.
It's not much to go on but it will have to be enough: She searches some more but finds nothing before she hears the watchman stir. She puts the evidence she found in her pockets, slowly and carefully, then walks nonchalantly off the scene as if she had no idea where she was. The watchman is convinced and lets her go.
She'd have to be more careful next time.
#2 (Justin Lang / Pazzer)
Mary sneaks into the town square after the night gets nice and thick and no one is there to watch her. She walks out calmly to the place where Justin Lang met his end. Quietly, she pokes around the still-slightly-stained asphalt, looking for anything. A glint of metal catches her eye. A paperclip, with a piece of paper in it. She picks it up, the paper is mostly blank aside from scribbled out phone numbers that she makes no effort to read at the moment. Wait: there, to the side, another glint of metal. She picks up Justin's house keys. She hears a car coming suddenly and backs out of the way of the headlamps, taking care to remain unseen as it passes. Afterwards she hurries home. She'll have to consider another expedition out to Justin's house. But not tonight. She doesn't have time to find his address tonight, then go out to his house and break in. Another night though? Definitely worth thinking about.
#3 (Justin Lang / Pazzer again)
Mary thinks of breaking the window. It'd be unnecessary but oh so fun. But it would also draw attention, which she does not want. She sneaks to the back of Justin's house and calmly, like she belongs there, unlocks the door and goes inside.
Closes the door behind her. The house smells strangely dusty and disused. Not just for the couple of days since Justin's death, but like a long-closed library. She goes upstairs, looks at each of the three closed doors, decides to open them in sequence.
Bathroom. Bedroom, looks fairly empty. A cursory glance suffices to show nothing's there. She steps into the next room a bit quicker, and is overwhelmed by the smell of long forgotten books, the scent of centuries. She looks around. Everywhere she sees is filled with books, like an escherian optical illusion. No, worse still: made of books.And they all still open, despite making up the walls and shelves in the room. And each of them is filled with hundreds of bookmarks. The books have names like Lux Occulta and Sefer Yetzirah and Occult Entities: A Treatise in Seven Parts. There are over a thousand of them.
She leaves that house, but not before getting a picture with her cellphone camera. The picture has one of the books, title unreadable, opened despite being the entire corner of what appears to want to be a writing desk. It is surrounded by its numberless kin. The pages it is open to are blank, despite being bookmarked.
There's nothing she needs to know there, she tells herself. There's nothing she missed. Except maybe what it is they're up against. Maybe.