The Shadow Fort, day four.

Four men tramped through the snow. One held a length a rope. Another held a flask of ale. A third led a donkey. The fourth man walked ahead, looking for their target.

Jolt was walking from the tavern to his room, cautiously scanning around him. A figure ducked behind a building ahead of him. Jolt saw him, but kept moving.

As he walked past the spot the figure had been standing, the path narrowed. On each side there was a wall, and now Jolt could only go forwards or backwards.

It was then that he began to hear the chanting. From in front and behind came the words “sasaki kojiro” slowly repeated. Jolt stopped.

Two men appeared at each end of the path, weapons drawn.

“You cannot escape, Jolt. It is commanded that you die,” one intoned.

“Who said anything about escaping?” asked Jolt as he readied his halberd, smiling.

The four men rushed him. Jolt swung the pole arm to the left to strike the men in front of him. The man on Jolt’s right brought up his club to stop the halberd, but the momentum was too great. The axe end swept past his guard and went through his collarbone. He collapsed and screamed, grasping at the blood pouring out. The other man approaching Jolt from the front stumbled and fell in order to avoid the halberd.

Jolt turned quickly to deal with the men behind him. A mace swung down at him. The halberd seemed to move effortlessly as that attack was deflected. The halberd continued to swing, and the base swept the feet of the other attacker off the ground. Jolt stopped swinging, adjusted his grip, pivoted the halberd again and bore the mace swinging man onto the ground.

Again Jolt turned and raised his halberd. The man who had fallen next to his bloody comrade was almost up. There was a soft, gentle whoosh as the halberd swung again, bearing down on the cloaked man, who threw himself backward, yelling in terror. A loud clanging noise rent the night air as the halberd hit the ground and split a cobblestone. Jolt stepped forward and raised the halberd again. The man on the ground threw his club at Jolt, then got to his feet and ran. The club went wide and struck the arm of his comrade behind Jolt, who was getting up.

Jolt turned and swung the halberd again. Jolt’s target flung his sword up and sidestepped to avoid the axe head. The other cloaked man, seeing the fleeing man, decided it was a good idea and fled too. Only one man remained now. He jumped backwards to avoid the halberd. Jolt, seeing his enemies scattered, drew the axe head back again and began to step forward quickly.

The last cloaked man, seeing this, fled as well. Jolt ran after him for a couple steps, then decided to let them run. He went back over the man he had killed and nudged his head with his foot.

The lifeless face of Winston Hughes stared back at him.


In a different part of the fort, Sigurd was making his way through a snow-covered alley. As he came out, he saw a single man step forward from the darkness and draw a sword.

“Prepare to…” began the man, as he looked around him and saw no one else, “well, that is…”

He trailed off, but still had his sword out. After a pause he advanced on Sigurd. As he did, four masked figures emerged from the shadows around Sigurd and placed themselves in front of him. All four had swords drawn.

The attacker cursed and turned to run.

“Wait, is that you Csargo?” asked one of the defenders.

Csargo looked back and cursed again, “No it isn’t!” and took off running.


Outside the doors of the keep, a man waited in the darkness, crossbow held ready. He had stood here steadily for over an hour, unmoving. Occasionally a little snow would fall. The man blinked only rarely, and never moved his eyes from the door.

Finally Subotan stepped out. The man with the crossbow immediately adjusted his aim and fired.

Subotan was standing on the top of the stone stairs when he heard the faint click of the crossbow firing. He reacted from instinct and ducked. The bolt missed by inches. Even before it passed overhead Subotan was drawing his sword.

Out of the darkness a man roared and ran, sword ready to strike. Subotan barely got his sword out fast enough to deflect the blow as he side stepped.

“Guards!,” Subotan yelled. The attacker did not hesitate, and rained a flurry of blows upon Subotan. Subotan could not keep up. He blocked the heaviest swings, but other strikes grazed him.

The guards were coming now, but the attacker continued. He pressed the attack, forcing Subotan backwards, away from the door, away from the guards. His sword was a blur in the night. With a small stutter step to the side, he feinted and then struck. Subotan, backpedaling quickly, fell for the feint and could only watch in terror as the sword swung towards his unprotected neck. Just then, one of his feet slipped on some ice and he fell down fast. The sword cut through his hair.

The guards had made it outside and yelled for the attacker to halt. He looked back quickly even as he brought his sword up to finish off Subotan. Even now Subotan had not given up, though. As soon as he hit the ground his foot lashed out and caught his attacker in the knee, throwing him off balance.

The attacker saw that the guards were almost on him, so he turned and ran into the darkness. Subotan would not be able to sleep soundly that night.


Centurion1 had just finished his drink in the tavern. He bid farewell to his drinking companions and set off to his room. He was only twenty paces from the tavern exit when three crossbows fired at him. Two missed, but one struck him beneath the ribs. Centurion cried out in pain, clasping one hand to his side as the other drew his sword. Three men ran out from the shadows and blocked the path back to the tavern.

Sword drawn, Centurion cursed his attackers, “Come and fight me with steel, cowards!”

The three men drew their swords and obliged. The fight was over quickly. Centurion blocked one strike and swung out, but his sword was deflected and two other strikes landed. Centurion lashed out again in a wide sweep, but the men dodged back. One moved in quickly, plunging his sword into Centurion’s stomach. Centurion’s stance slackened and he dropped his sword.

He looked up at his smiling attacker, and recognized the smile.

“Methos?”
The attacker stopped smiling, and drew back, pulling his hood down.

“Methos!” yelled Centurion as he fell to the ground, using the last of his strength. The cry went up into the dark night, and even the boisterous drinkers in the tavern heard.

Methos ran off into the night. One of the others stayed and put tea leaves over Centurion’s eyes.

In the morning the people gathered inside the keep. Gerard was cursing at a guard who had let Subotan’s get away.

After a while he stopped and then glared out at the crowd, “The attacks and murders have not stopped. Find the people who are doing this!” he yelled.

With that he stomped back to his chair and stewed, looking out over the crowd angrily.

Hans stood silently nearby for a few minutes, and then said softly, “I thought you liked fresh snowfalls. The ground outside is glistening in the sun.”

“I loved what came with the snow. Now all that comes is death,” Gerard snapped.

Begin voting! The day phase will last for 24 hours, until 11 am PST Friday March 19th.

Alive:
Beskar
a completely inoffensive name
Diamondeye
Csargo
Jolt
atheotes
Sasaki Kojiro
Joooray
GeneralHankerchief
TinCow
pevergreen
Askthepizzaguy
White_eyes:D
Subotan
Reenk Roink
Yaropolk
Sigurd
TheFlax
Yaseikhaan
slashandburn
Double A
Beefy187
Myrddraal
Cultured Drizzt fan
Scienter
Renata
spL1tp3r50naL1ty
Captain Blackadder
Seon
Methos
Thermal Mercury
autolycus
johnhughtom
Ibn-Khaldun
Psychonaut



Lynched:
Kagemusha D2
Secura D3


Killed:
Chaotix N2
Seamus Fermanagh N2
A Very Super Market N2
Winston Hughes N3
Centurion1 N3