[T+M Mafia] Chains of Blood: Crimson Tides - GAME OVER

[WWWwombat]

I choose B) Leave the Sijev alone. We just gave it a snack so it should be sated. Hopefully.

[dapianoplay3r]

I vote leave it alone too. If we leave it and it attacks us we can fight back then

[Aust]

Giant sea monsters are not exactly known for just merrily swimming along side a ship and waving a tentacle as we sail off into the sunset. I don't think we'll have the opportunity to fight back if it attacks later Player, based on how the choice was given to us.

 

I choose A) Kill the Sijev

[Thorum]

I wanna kill him too

[alannalynn]

Leave it alone? As might as well INVITE it to kill us all!

 

I vote to kill it.

[mmeeshal]

I vote B) Leave it alone.

[aemonkristen]

Generally speaking, animals don't bother you if you don't bother them. I vote B) leave the slimy sucker in peace

[False Dragon]

A) Kill it before it kills us.

[Toy and Minion]

Sorry, I meant 12.5 hours. >.>

 

With 30 minutes to go, the vote is tied. If the vote remains tied, the choice will be chosen randomly and thus forfeit.

[Toy and Minion]

“Kill it, Saric!” Senaldor Krendel yelled.

 

“No, don’t! It might leave us alone now that it’s fed!” someone offered.

 

“Animals don’t attack unless attacked!” another agreed.

 

“That’s not an animal, that’s a demon from the Underfires!” Mirassa countered.

 

“Then how would you plan on killing it?” someone demanded.

 

The discussion quicly turned into a cacophony of “Kill it” and “Leave it alone”, that was beginning to drive Saric crazy. Sweat seemed to leap from his forehead and his hands shook, making it impossible for him to aim. What would he shoot at? The mouth? The eyes? Better luck hitting the Unfallen Moon from this distance, and he didn’t want the monster any closer. The sijev shook its head, sending a shower of blood the splatter the deck and Saric.

 

That decided it for him. Forcing his arms steady, he took aim once more and fired. The bolt hit the bulbous sac and exploded through the other side. There was a Godly rumble as the beast let out its death cry, a red ichor spraying out of its deflating sac. The sijev wavered, its sinuous body rolling. Its head swung and smashed into the side of the ship, knocking everyone to the ground again, and nearly tipping the entire ship over. Then the sijev began to slowly descend back into the deaths of the sea.

 

Saric stood up, peering over the railing to see a pool of red spreading from a bubbling center where the sijev had sunken. Turning around, he held up his crossbow in one hand. “Dead!” He shouted victoriously. The others began to cheer, and offer congratulations.

 

“Fool!” Cleagolifer barked, running up to them. “You don’t kill a sijev! You’ve only brought slaughter to this ship!”

 

“What are you talking about?” Saric queried, smiling.

 

Just then another head poked up above the railing. It was serpentine, but smaller than the Sijev. It’s scales were a pale yellow, and it had the face of a lizard, an extended, flat snout. Long wisps of white hair sported its snout like a beard, making it almost appear sentient. After the head came a leg – no an arm, that gripped the railing with black serrated claws. Another arm rose up. Saric turned around and the arm swiped down, severing his head from his shoulders.

 

“Rabek...” Cleagolifer’s growl was barely audible, weakened by fear.

[Toy and Minion]

Dallar Aunoll had been drowning himself in challan, door locked and barred by his bed. He could not find a point in his part of this, like Menden seemed to. The deaths had began to take their toll on him. But why should they? He was not their leader. He had left the responsibilities of leadership far behind. So why should he feel even more weighed down with their deaths?

 

But the deaths weren’t what had driven him to this state. Not completely. In truth, he had only been at the head of the return party because he needed to get back to his challan.

 

“That which you fear most to happen, will happen.” He whispered, repeating the crazy Seers words. There could be no fate worse, and yet no other fate he ever expected. But the confirmation had been almost crippling.

 

The ship suddenly rocked and Dallar was forced out of his chair and to the floor. “The hells?” He muttered as everything began to spin and bend like water. Shouts outside on the deck. He struggled to his feet and tried pushing the bed out of the way, to get out there and tell those damned Asteri to learn how to steer a ship. It was an attempt at futility in his state. A loud crash and he and the bed was forced to the opposing wall. He had forgotten to secure the bed to the floor.

 

Struggling once again to his feet, he stumbled to the door, grabbing a bottle of challan to use as a club on that damned Alfa. Pushing the door open, he was greeted by the sight of death.

 

Asteri and humans alike lay strewn about the deck, some barely recognizable as either Asterit or human. Those that lived sat crouched, exhausted and bleeding out. The remainder of his Deathseekers had formed a loose ring around a creature from the depths of the Underfire. The thing had six appendages. It switched often from standing on all six, tail and teeth swiping and snapping; to standing on four, with its forelegs used as arms, clawing at the Deathseekers who were struggling just to evade, let alone land a blow.

 

A clawed hand caught Tedevi Krendal in the chest. Blood sprayed and the Orashkin crumpled, dead before he hit the ground. Senaldor Krendal bellowed in rage, pain, and denial, leaping at the creatures back, spear aimed for the beasts scaled back. The thing moved as if liquid, bending out of the way and standing up on it’s back legs, revealing its midlegs to double as arms like the forlegs, as all for arms grabbed the massive Orashkin from the air and opened its maw, rows of needle teeth snapped on Senaldor’s head.

 

The challan bottle hit the deck and shatter, spilling its ink-like contents at Dallars feet. With a mad cry, he pulled free his sword and charged. He was back in Sted. All his soldiers, good men and women all, were dying beside him. The heat of the fires that had begun to consume the town ignored by him, the ash that threatened to block his sight a meager curtain between him and his foes.

 

He slid under the feet of one of the enemies, blade swiping up at the mans groin. Quickly regaining his feet, he struck at the back of another enemy, blade glancing off the scale armor. Sensing movement, he jumped over the poleax and spun to deliver a death blow to the woman’s head. An arrow pierced his shoulder, but he rolled with the blow, avoiding broken bone. With a grunt, he pulled the arrow out and set himself for the next attack.

 

The creature snarled at Dallar, denying that its prey had escaped. Dallar was barely aware of the blood trickling down his arm where the creatures claw had scored its mark. He was in two worlds now. Here on the Asteri ship with the six-legged demon; and there in fall of Sted, in the past. Would he fail here, as he did then?

 

“No.” He whispered. “No!” he roared. The past faded and the present was in focus. He rushed forward, the creature darted to meet Dallar. The two clashed. Three sets of claws dug into Dallar; one set in his shoulder, the other two on opposite sides of his abdomen. The fourth set latched onto his upraised arm, halting the descent of his sword. The creature shot its open mouth forward, but Dallar grabbed its neck with his free hand. The two stood like that, each stopping the others attack. The creatures tail proved too short to reach around to him.

 

Dallar did not know how he was standing toe to toe with this thing. He only knew he could not fail again. He would not fail again.

 

The creature began to squeeze Dallar where it had him. He screamed as ribs cracked and possibly broke. It was trying to pull his other arm off so that it could clamp its jaws on Dallar’s head.

 

The red haze filled his vision again. His grip on the creatures neck strengthened. His sword arm began to slowly move, the creatures own arm shaking with the effort to keep it at bay. The pressure on his sides eased, and he knew he would not fail.

 

With an animalistic growl, Dallar ripped his sword arm away from the creatures grip and swung it down with all the strength he had. The sword connected with the things neck and cut clean through. The claws that still had a hold of him were ripped free by the creatures death throws.

 

The headless body squirmed and wriggled on the deck before going still. Dallar still held the head in his hand. He turned to the survivors and noticed they were all on the deck as if drained. Then he saw Anamira standing on the opposite side of the deck, looking at him with wide eyes. The red haze made it almost impossible to see, but he thought it was the look of horror.

 

And then, just like that, the red was gone. He vaguely saw a red mist begin to rise from his skin and enter all the living surrounding him. Now he felt the pain of his wounds. His muscles groaned in agony, and his energy seemed to be expelled. His sword clattered to the deck and he found himself looking up at the sky, with his back pressed against the wood floor as a shadow fell across his eyes and he descended into the abyss of emptiness.

[Toy and Minion]

(Aemon) Tedevi Krendal, Deathseekers Liar has been Lynched.

 

(Alanna) Senaldor Krendal, Protector of the Deathseekers is Dead.

 

It is now Night. Send in Night Actions ASAP.

 

Deadline is late Tuesday.

 

Thorum and Led are both immune this Night.

[aemonkristen]

A tragic end, but at least I went out fighting. Loved the scene, Toy.

[False Dragon]

Sh*t and bricks! Wombat was right, it seems.

 

Another reread is in order

[dapianoplay3r]

I dont have time to read the scene now but its great we got a scum

So that means 2 scum left right? Or is it three?

[mmeeshal]

It's great we got a guilty, but we lost an innocent too, so I wonder just how good a lynch that really was.

[Little Miss]

I am glad that Wombat was right, and I was taking care of things last night and didn't realize the mod would have voting while I was asleep. >_>

[Locke]

It would make sense to me that killing a bad guy would have a greater positive effect than the negative of losing a good guy, simply because there are more Innocent than Guilty.

[mmeeshal]

And you know, Locke, I never thought about it that way. But that makes a lot of sense. XD Maybe my information will be helpful after all.

[alannalynn]

*bah* Nice scene!

[Little Miss]

Also want to say HA! I knew something was off then AJ didn't question Aemon. However, it makes sense now.

 

So what exactly is a "Liar" ?

[Toy and Minion]

The figure stole into the room of Tedevi Krendal. It was empty, of course. The Orashkin had not carried the Stone with him, so it had to be hidden here. His search brought him up empty. Puzzled, he began checking the floor for any loose floorboards. None. This was getting ridiculous. He kicked the leg of the bed and it broke, nearly crushing his foot under the weight of the bed. Cursing his luck, he lifted the bed up and peered under to see what had happened. A faint glimmer of emerald shone. It had been hidden in a hollowed out leg of the bed. Smiling, he reached out and picked it up. Stuffing it in the pocket of his coat, he exited the room.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dallar woke in a bed. He was sore, and seemed hollow. He was starving. He turned his head to find Anamira’s protégé, Sorine Cucil sitting beside his bed. She smiled at him. “Good to see you waken.”

 

“How was I healed?” His voice was coarse due to his dry throat.

 

“Menden Atal.” Sorine answered, standing up. “First he scolded everyone for fighting the thing and not coming to get him first. Then he saw you and had you rushed here so he could heal you. He said that you’d better survive, because he had some words for you too.”

 

Dallar could not bring himself to smile. “So where is he? Let’s get it over with.”

 

“He left with the Asteri under Acrasifer. There is a small island north of where we are. They’re going to get wood for repairs.”

 

“Repairs?”

 

“Yes. That…sijev took a good chunk out of the ship before it died. We’re left to remain here. And Anamira is not happy about that. She’s gone to speak with Cleagolifer.” She smiled a secret smile at that.

 

“And so she left you to tend to me.” Dallar finished. Sorine nodded. “Then could you get me some food?”

 

She laughed. “Of course. I’ll be only a second.” She departed and Dallar sat up. He began throwing on his clothes, shredded and bloodstained as they were. He had a task to perform.

 

Striding unconcernedly out of the room, he made for the upper deck and his quarters. He made it unhindered and let out a sigh as he closed the door; steeling himself for what he knew he had to do.

 

Opening the cabinet with the bottles of challan, he grabbed one, looking at it longingly. Closing his eyes he threw it at the wall. Glass bit his hand, but he ignored it. Grabbing more of the bottles, he began breaking them all, sending the black liquid to stain the walls and floors. Grabbing the last bottle he lifted it to throw, and stopped. His arm shook. The shadows were coming. The truth was coming. He knew now that that was what he had been escaping: the truth. The truth of his failures. Even as he propped up those failures for reason why he could not do what they wanted him to do, he was running from it.

 

But he was at the crossroads now. Could he afford to run away? Whether he liked it or not, those men and women had died out there because of him. He was their leader. They chose him. He had to accept that now before more tragedies befell them. Before it was too late for them all. Before it was too late for him.

 

The glint of red at the corner of his eyes. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t. He never could. It was his ultimate failure. His ultimate shame. The ghost that would haunt him till his death that would not come. He looked at the final bottle. His only escape from that ghost. His only…

 

The door opened. “Dallar! What are you…?” She trailed off at the sight of him and the shattered bottles.

 

“After the Seer told me that what I fear to happen, will happen, I don’t see any point in continuing to drink the challan.” He whispered.

 

Curiously, she asked, “Dallar, what do you fear most?”

 

“Surviving.” He answered quietly, without looking at her.

 

The confirmation of her suspicions shook her. “What are you doing?” She pointed at the bottle in his hand.

 

He looked at her, tears streaming from his eyes. “I’m making a choice, Ana. I’m making a choice.” Turning back to the wall, he yelled at it. Drawing his arm back he threw the final bottle of challan at the wall, shower himself in the liquid and glass. Anamira gave a cry of alarm and ran to him.

 

He collapsed to his knees, bowing his head in defeat. Anamira knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Remembering what Menden had said, she turned his head until they were looking into each others eyes. “I’m listening.” She said.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Sorine found Teral in his room, sitting on his bed in deep contemplation. She planned on getting his mind focused somewhere other than the floor. He looked up as she walked to him. His eyes had a darkness to them she didn’t like. He did not smile.

 

“What do you want?” He demanded.

 

Taken aback, Sorine raised an eyebrow. “Do you have to ask?”

 

Teral snorted. “I’m not in the mood.”

 

“I can help with that.” She teased.

 

“Not tonight, Sorine!” He shouted. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. My brother Sacar is as good as dead and Isaer has locked himself in his rooms. I’d rather be alone this night.”

 

She was silent for a time. She understood and felt for him, but she would not be chased away so easily. “Perhaps the words of Saevor will offer some comfort for you this night.” For them both. She sat beside him on the bed. He did not protest, but he did not participate either. She did not know if her words were reaching him or not. As long has he didn’t send her away, she supposed it didn’t matter.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

They had moved to the chairs, a small round table between them. Dallar held his head in his hands, and did not say anything. Anamira took Menden’s advice and did not speak, only watching him, ready to listen whenever he was ready to talk.

 

“It was always the three of us.” He began. “Vidan, you and me. The three of us were brother and sister. And we were inseparable, even when given separate squads. It was always the three of us.” He lifted his head out of his hands, looking at her. “You were there in the beginning. You saw how close me and Vidan were, and how much we grew apart.” Anamira merely nodded. “Did you know why?”

 

“I thought it came down to the war. People change in war. And the two of you competing for top spot in Delgrim’s doghouse.”

 

Dallar nodded. “Probably all of those things were involved in the split between us. But heart of it had been you.”

 

Anamira was genuinely surprised. “Me?”

 

Dallar nodded. “Nothing breaks the bond of men better than a woman between them.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “And you made your choice clear.”

 

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

 

“The three of us were set to defend Sted. We had plenty of soldiers for the task. No one was worried. And they you went off with Vidan to Arlantinus to make him the King. And you had to take your forces, in case the Nobles fought it, which they did. That left me with a third of what we had had to defend the town we had all three planned to defend together.” He sighed. “That, probably more than anything, pushed me to go in anyways. There wasn’t a soldier that went in there that didn’t know they would not survive.”

 

“You went in because of me?” Anamira asked incredulously.

 

“Yes. Out of foolish pride and spite.” He bowed his head. “You don’t have to scold me for it. I know my failures more than anyone else.”

 

“That doesn’t explain your behavior after Sted.” She pressed. She felt the answer was almost there.

 

“It does explain it, actually. But anything can be explained away. You deserve the truth.” He took a deep breath before beginning.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dallar ran at the head of his party, the last remaining soldiers in his force. They had fought the good fight, but it was not enough, and they knew it. They would, one and all, die here. But they would die as Deathseekers, protecting the innocent and defenseless.

 

They came to and alley and found the other side blocked with enemy soldiers. Smiling, Dallar lifted strung an arrow and lifted his bow, firing it into the mess of bodies. His soldiers charged into the alley and made contact. It became clear that the Deathseekers would win this skirmish.

 

Then there was a glint of red as the enemy general appeared. He wore a full suit of plate armor, helmet notched for sight, a red plume blowing in the wind. His longsword began to cleave through the Deathseekers. “Pull back!” Dallar ordered, firing another shot into the enemy. As his soldiers made their escape, Dallar notched another arrow and sent it into the enemy general. It hit the sweet spot between plates, barbed head digging his hip. The general fled, and his men broke apart as they lost all morale.

 

Dallar chased after him, another arrow notched. If he killed this man, they might yet win this fight. He spotted the red plume running to the front of a house. Making his way around back, to catch the general at the other side, he heard a crash. He stopped. The general had entered the house. Crouching slightly, Dallar brought the arrow up to his eye, sweeping his aim from windows to door, waiting for that red plume to show itself.

 

The back door opened and a form was silhouetted against the light from within. A glint of red. He let loose the arrow.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dallar stopped his tale, tears streaming down his face. Shaking his head he buried his head in his arms on the table. Anamira did not know what to say or do. He lifted his head again. “And now the ghost haunts me. Damned by my own hands, the price: wanting to die, but unable to do so.” He turned his look to the far corner of the room. “I’m sorry!” he shouted. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“What happened?” Anamira asked softly, reaching a hand out to him.

 

He glared at her. “It wasn’t the general I killed. It was-“ He was interrupted by a shout of alarm from outside. They shared puzzled, disappointed looks, but both rose and left the room.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Menden Atal sat aboard the small raft as the Asteri rowed. He was awoken to the present as the raft touched the shore. He quickly wiped away the tears that had come with the words the wind had brought him, as he hopped to shore. The Asteri got out in the water and pushed the raft a couple dozen feet ashore.

 

“I know these trees aren’t of the same Bloodash that you make your ships out of,” He said. “But they should be enough to patch up that hole.” The Asteri looked at him silently. “Best get to work. I sense storms on the horizon.” Storms no whether could produce.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Out of the dark, misty night, a ship appeared, weighing anchor alongside the Asteri ship’s port side. The ship was small compared to the Asteri ship, but it was bigger than an Arlantin Whirlwind. The sails were black with a white insignia. Pirates.

 

Boarding planks slammed into place, sending up broken chips of railing to fall into the waters. Bodies swarmed onto the deck. One figure stood out among the rest. She wore a black coat that fell beyond the tops of her boots and a bandanna holding her long white hair. What made her stand out, however, was the apparent lack of weapons.

 

“I seek the Bearer of Blood, the one called Dallar Aunoll.” She made her voice loud enough to carry. “If he comes quietly, you all will be spared. If he does not, or anyone resists…” she left the words hanging in the air ominously.

 

“Just who are you that we should do what you say, let alone trust you?” Anamira demanded, stepping in front of Dallar.

 

The pirate smirked. “I am Captain Nightheart. And if I don’t get what I want, I will eat yours.”

[Toy and Minion]

Night Choice which is Personal. Dallar is going to declare an attack. Will you join him, or stay your hand? This is not a public or team choice, cannot be discussed, and must be sent to me within 24 hours: the rough end of Night.

 

A) Attack

 

B) Surrender

[Toy and Minion]

When Dallar woke, he felt an immense pain in his stomach. He remembered he had not eaten since waking from his battle with the rabek. Wincing, he struggled to sit up. His head throbbed tortuously. His face itched and he brought a hand up to rid himself of it. His hand came away with flakes of dried blood. Touching the source of the throb, he found a wound, barely scarred over.

 

His surroundings came into focus, and he did not recognize any of it. Eyes roaming over the cell, he found Anamira in the cell next to him. She had a cut over her right eye and was bent over in prayer. He tried to roll onto his knees, but his body gave out and he was feeling the cold hard ground on his cheek. He pressed his forehead against that cold in futile attempt to ward of the pain.

 

His memory began to return. They had been boarded by pirates. They had demanded him. Cleagolifer had turned to him and gave a slight nod before shouting, “For Moonbrother!” The entire crew of the ship roared in unison and darted to attack. Their speed had been incredible. Claws extended, fangs revealed, blue fur creating a slight streak in the air due to their speed.

 

The pirate, Captain Nightheart, had Woven something that Dallar had never seen before. Blue threads leapt from the sea and whipped at the rushing Asteri. Dallar’s vision had turned crimson with the wave of blood that crashed upon him. After wiping his eyes, he saw the bodies of all the Asteri lying still on the deck, blue fur stained in the blood that had been ripped from their pores.

 

The complete horror of the scene, the bravery of the Asteri protecting him, keeping the word of their Pact – the same Pact that Dallar had called into question – It all welled up inside of him at once. Anger and the desire for justice overwhelming. Before he knew it he had his sword in hand once again, ordering his force to attack.

 

Rolling his head on that cold hardness, Dallar struggled to accept the memories for truth. They had followed his order, the fools. They had attacked. After that show of power, they had still followed him. Every last one of them.

 

The charge had lasted about as long as the Asteri’s had. Nightwing did not Weave that time, but Shaped air. White threads came down from the sky and knocked them all to the ground. Dallar’s own sword had cut into his scalp. He had lost consciousness shortly after.

 

He heard footsteps. Rolling over painfully, he forced himself to sit up again. Nightheart quickly appeared, her white hair nearly glowing in the torchlight. He noticed for the first time that her hair belied her apparent youth. She could not have been much older that Dallar. She had two pirates with her.

 

“Dallar Aunoll.” She whispered. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

 

Grunting with the effort, he forced a laugh. “Can’t say that the feeling is mutual. With that white hair, I’d say you were Vadapakian. Can’t say I’m surprised. The standards of the pirates of Kyzet were never very high.”

 

“So little you know.” She mocked. “You’ve obviously never seen a Vadapakian. And if you had, you would not be alive to be my prisoner.”

 

He offered no response to that, attempting again to roll to his knees. Barely managing it, he paused to gather the strength and will to get to his feet. One foot at a time. After standing, he leaned against the bars of his cell for support.

 

“Your determination is to be admired.” She observed. “That determination will lead to death.” He warning cracked like a whip.

 

One of her goons unlocked the cell and the other grabbed Dallar, forcing him out and down the hall. He looked at Anamira as he passed her, only to see her still deep in prayer.

 

His suspicions of their location was confirmed as he was lead outside. They were on land, in a fortress. Only one island close enough fit that description: Kyzet. He was lead into side door that lead to a chamber. In that chamber sat a throne of ivory. On that throne sat the Pirate King, Gevastus Sern. Dallar knew women would call him handsome, with that long dark hair pulled into a tight tail behind his head, the smooth skin, the cold blue eyes. His pale lips seemed to be permanently fixed to be ready to smirk.

 

“Dallar Aunoll.” He said weighing, turning his head slightly as if picking out everything about Dallars life just by his present appearance. “You need to shave. And a haircut would not go amiss.” He burst out into a mirthless laughter. “Bearer of Blood indeed. Are you certain?” He turned to Nightheart.

 

She nodded, scowling “Of course. Have I ever failed you?”

 

“With that young so-called King, you did.” He snapped angrily. “So much time wasted for nothing!”

 

“It will be worth it.” Nightheart replied coolly.

 

“For your sake, I hope so.” Gevastus said, suddenly calm again. “Well, Dallar, we shall see the truth of this.” He clapped his hands and a side door opened.

 

Dallar gasped. Every one on his men and women were marched single file, ushered by pirates with weapons drawn to ward off any ideas of a struggle. Mirassa Ies, Dwalden Aute, Rilan Karris, Anamira! If he had had the strength, he would have fought against the hold of his captors.

 

“What do you want?” He growled.

 

“I want you to tell me what resides in the Land of Ash? What do you seek? What can only be touched by blood?” There was a mad cast to the Pirate King’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know!” Dallar pleaded, knowing it would do no good.

 

“I see.” Gevastus Sern whispered coldly, giving a slight nod. A pirate grabbed Mirassa Ies and ran a dagger across her throat, spilling her blood. She had not so much as gasped before her corpse hit the floor. “Try again.”

 

Dallar searched their faces. He thought hard. Did he know, but did not know he knew? He didn’t know. He was running circles in his mind and he could not find any answers. “I don’t know.” He begged the Pirate King to believe.

 

Another nod and Dwalden Aute’s corpse fell in beside Mirassa Ies’. The last of the Deathseekers. He began to struggle, but his efforts were useless, weak as he was. “I don’t know, damn you!” He bellowed. Rilan Karris joined the two Deathseekers, The blade was placed under Anamira’s chin.

 

Everything erupted within Dallar. “No!” He screamed. His struggles forced his captors to knock him to his knees before they lost balance. “I don’t know! We were going there to find out why we were going there! It’s the truth! I swear it!” He could already see the blade sliding across Anamira’s neck. Tears began to blur his vision. Tears of anger and despair..

 

His chin was clutched roughly and he was forced to look into the face of the Pirate King. “I believe you,” he announced. He spat into Dallar’s face and let him go. “Take them all back to their cells.”

 

“But-“ Nightheart attempted.

 

“I said send them back! All of them! Now!” The Pirate King raged.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

They threw Dallar into his cell, and he hit the ground rolling. Leaning himself against the wall, he smiled. He had managed to save her. He was satisfied with that.

 

“Dallar.” Whispered Anamira. Turning to her, he saw a look of shock on her face. “Who is that?”

 

Turning to the cell to the right of him, he saw a huddled form in dirty rags scrawling on the same wall that Dallar leaned on. The man’s hair was ragged and full of clumps of what Dallar hoped was only dirt, his beard wiry and just as dirty. He wrote on the wall with his finger, with his blood.

 

Dallar slid himself over to the bars separating him from the stranger. “Hello?” He offered cautiously. “Sir, are you okay?” The man turned and looked Dallar in the eyes. Crimson eyes meeting crimson eyes. Dallar gasped.

 

“What is it, Dallar?” Anamira demanded

 

Dallar struggled to find his voice. When he spoke it was in a hoarse whisper barely audible. “Vidan. It’s the King.”

[Toy and Minion]

(Locke) Rilan Karris, Assassin has been Killed.

 

It is now Day 5. With 9 Alive it Takes 5 Votes to Lynch.

 

Deadline Saturday (Approx. 96 Hours)