The old fort on Malqert was a marvel from a distant past. None were sure who left it, but regardless, the pale limestone walls held strong against the surf. These were the subject of Double A’s investigations tonight. He was taking a leisurely stroll along the top of a wall that stood upon a cliffside. It was amazing, Double A mused, that the walls had not fallen to instability in the ground or surf. As he pondered the meanings of the structural integrity, his thoughts were interrupted by a clanking sound behind him.
Double A turned to see two folk slowly encroaching upon him from the east. One was a man dressed in a long, black robe of satin, and a mask of ivory, inlaid with gold, hiding his face. The other was a woman, donning a long, white dress, her own face hidden under a mask of ebony, inlaid with silver. The man raised a longsword that he had been dragging behind himself, the blade scraping the stone. “My dear,” he said, in a low, scratchy voice. “It seems our hand has been forced, neh?”
“I suppose it seems that way, love. How shall we solve this, then, my dove?” A quiet, lyrical voice answered the man as the woman withdrew a dagger from her dress.
“Oh, I think I have an idea,” he answered her, drawing a finger on the end of his blade.
“Hey, hey now, no need to be rash!” Double A imposed on this conversation. “Look, I have money, slaves, trade routes to exploit! You can use me!”
“I think not, meager man,” the woman said as they advanced on Double A, forcing him back to the edge of the wall, the surf crashing below. “Of no use, is your clan.”
“Send the Majesty our regards,” the man told Double A, launching himself towards their hapless victim. Double A flailed backwards, but with nowhere to go, plummeted to the rocky surf below. The two watched him crash upon the rocks below with a sickening crunch.
IT IS NOW DAY TWO. YOU MAY BEGIN VOTING.
Alive:
El Barto
Raith Kemmler
Autolycus
Choxorn
JHT
Morgan
Bsmith
GeneralHankerchief
Al Sipsclair
Montmorency
Lynched:
Atheotes(D1)
Killed:
Double A(N1)
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