The Eighth Night

Darkness fell on the night in which the catatonic Owen Thatcher was killed. The previous day, the infamous murderer and double agent of the Pratian society, Hayden Matthews, disguised as a man named Michael Engels, was killed as well.

The alleged Mobilian survivors, seven in numbers, four men and three women, had survived their threat. Now, approaching the historical Gulf of Mexico, they had a decision to make.

Charlie and Aaron had assumed leadership after Michael was exposed. Feet in the sand, stars overhead, Charlie spoke first, "We should head West, the Praters have less influence that way."

"How would you know that?" A woman asked him.

"They started in the East, everybody knows that." He said. He had proven himself rather resourceful with a powerful memory and the ability to read people like a book.

Aaron spoke up now, the tentativeness of immaturity quickly fading away with each passing day, "The coast is to our East and our South, we could set up our own foothold here for now, maybe even more survivors will find us."

Charlie responded, "Or we could just wait for the Prater army of hundreds to find our little pack of seven so they can stomp all over us."

Aaron looked at the other five, "We'll have a vote then, but we'll settle this in the morning... we need to rest."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Charlie enjoyed his time alone, and when he got the chance he took a stroll down the beach. Little did he know, two sets of eyes watched him.

He continued down the sandy airstrip until he was out of earshot of the small campfire, when he stopped and looked out over the dark ocean. The moon was waning, the light didn't guide him as well as before.

A figure bolted from the tree line towards him, knife in hand. Another figure from closer did the same. Charlie turned around and saw the two figures running toward him and he bolted toward the sea. He was a fantastic swimmer, and likely could out swim his assailants. He turned, once several yards out, and saw the two figures in a grapple on the ground. He watched as the armed figure stabbed to death the other, and then run into the forest.

He quickly swam back and attempted to see who his protector had been but the light was too dim. He labored and brought the body to the campfire, Tristan Toft (dcmort93) was finally identified. One member woke, gasped, and the rest followed. Blood had been spilled once more...


Day Phase 9 has begun! Please vote for the lynch AND whether you think the group should Stay or Go.
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