Elect the Executioner 4

[kloud1516]

woot! I am ready to experience a grizzly first round death.

[kloud1516]

PROPOSITION:

If I am elected, I will kill Cybele (suprise suprise). All those that give me three points will have my loyalty (exception being Cybele, for we have established that I am wanted dead), for the first four-to-five rounds assuming I am still alive. If everyone (except Cybele) gives me three points, I will take into consideration those who supported me more quickly then others when determining who to give my points to, and will take suggestions of others when deciding who to kill should I happen to be elected again. My death scenes are already written as well, and are, if I must be modest, quite gruesome/macabre. Cybele has already made it to the final round of one of these games (EtE2), and I believe it is time for change (hah hah.) If you vote for me, I will greatly appreciate it. If not, I will understand, and will hopefully enjoy my short time in this game.

*looks at executioner's mask, then at Cybele* This might get interesting. . .

[kloud1516]

Remember, guys and girls: I opt to take myself out of the picture. kloud intends to do what he needs to to win. Who's the safest bet?

My only goal in this game is to eliminate you, all other aspects I could care less about. I would be happy to not make it close to the final rounds, so long as I wasn't eliminated right off the bat.

I trust Cybele more, especially since kloud wants to kill people who have gotten into the finals in previous games. Like me. Therefore, I want kloud to die.

Of course you trust Cybele more. You are in an alliance with her/him (not sure about gender heh).

[kloud1516]

I also swear to not be in any alliance. My only goal is to achieve the two kills on my list, and then to self-lynch.

Right, you are going to work hard to get both me and whoever else is on your list out, but who knows how long that will take. You might suggest waiting several rounds to kill your second option, by which time all those that "are no longer in an alliance with you" will have already secured ground to ensure all others are eliminated.

chenhsi: I didn't see this post before submitting my previous one, but I still have my doubts.

[kloud1516]

BridgesAndBalloons:

I promise to not execute you should I be elected. You have my word, you will be safe.

Give 2 points to Dahill

I will probably give you the last point as well, but I want to hold onto it for a little while longer.

[kloud1516]

My proposal from Pre-game/Round 1 still stands: My target is Cybele. Everyone else is guaranteed safety and my gratitude. Sure, Cybele says now that once I am dead she will kill herself, but I seriously doubt that she was referring to herself as the number two target. Someone else out there is not safe, and who is to say that more than just two people are on her hit list?

[kloud1516]

I was thinking of ways we could possibly incorporate power roles into the game. We could have something like a supersaint, where if the executioner decides to kill this person they too die. I was also thinking of something like an executive cabinet, where people are randomly selected at the beginning of the game and have the power to veto the kill of the executioner. This would thread more strategical aspects into the game, for the board could be made up of two opposing alliances or people who aren't in an alliance at all. . .

it sounds stupid, i know, but it would be cool.

[kloud1516]

Give three points to bird111

So I am elected?

[kloud1516]

@ Cybele

yeah, I will PM you any more ideas if I think of any, and I would not be opposed to helping you mod if I you want me to. Only problem with that is I haven't modded anything on the site yet, so I am not sure how that will work out. I will wait for confirmation about my election before posting your death scene.

[kloud1516]

That was fast. I apologize in advance for the length here; I tend to be slightly (EXTREMELY) verbose. . . something that I will need to fix. Here it goes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cybele woke with a start, her body bolting upwards from her resting position, muscles tensed, and eyes jerking back and forth to take in the milieu about her. Beads of cold sweat ran silently down her face, creating rivulets of perspiration that trickled downward to her chin before plummeting into the darkness. Her breath came in labored, anxious pants, and her throat burned as if she had just drank a glass of needles. Tears came to her eyes, and she rubbed them away with her knuckles vigorously.

What a nightmare, she thought as she continued to search the space around her, realizing that she did not know exactly where she was. She did know, however, that she was not strapped to a metal-topped table and bound by barbed wire; she did know that the room’s walls were not white washed; and she did know that there was no fiend of a man with a sadistic smile and a tea pot looming above her. It was all a nightmare, the horrific end she had met had been nothing but an imaginary terror. But . . . It seemed so . . .

Real.

Her breath came to her once more, chest rising and falling at a steady pace now. She looked down to find herself resting in a large, plush chair that all but encased her form comfortably. A large, roaring fire danced joyously within the grated fireplace before her, its warmth caressing her cheeks tenderly before warming her to the bone. She was in a state of tranquility, and the fears that continued to fester in the back of her subconscious began to vanish.

“Comfortable?”

came a voice from behind her. Cybele jumped, startled by the unknown presence. She turned quickly to apologize, but when she saw who it was behind her, she wished she hadn’t.

“Kloud . . .”

she whispered hoarsely.

“No, no, no. It can’t be.”

“Are you okay,”

Kloud asked, his facial features contorting with concern.

“I heard you waking, and thought I should check on you.”

The man stepped closer, but not too close as if to make sure that Cybele remained at moderate ease. His hands were hidden from vision, tucked behind his back and obviously holding something.

“Yes, I am fine, and I am comfortable, thank you.”

“Would you like some tea?”

Kloud asked, the edges of his lips curling into a devilish smile. From behind his back, he revealed a single tea pot.

The same pot from the nightmare.

He drew closer, the kettle held out in front of him, its spout tilted downward towards Cybele. She squirmed in her chair, relieved that she wasn’t bound.

“Don’t come any closer!”

she screamed, and as she did so, a deafening boom shook the cozy room. Cybele doubled backward as her hand exploded from the inside, blood and muscle spraying the chair and carpet in human debris. Writhing on the floor and gripping the stub at her wrist, strangled sobs spewed forward from her throat. She couldn’t cry out for help, but at the same time knew no one would come to her aid. This was no nightmare, she was in reality now.

“Now, now, look what you have done. I just cleaned this room, and you have gone and made a bloody mess, no pun intended.”

Kloud inched closer, and as he did so, Cybele clawed at the floor, sliding in an ungainly matter farther from him, and closer to the fire. As she did so, she found her voice, and screamed again.

“I’m warning you, DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!!!!”

Once again a thunderous roar shook the room, and her other hand exploded as if she had just placed it on a land mine. She cried out in agonizing pain, and her right foot met the same end as her hands. Tears streamed down her face, and her head fell to the floor with a thud. Eyes wide with excrutiating pain and fear, Cybele lay still.

“Ah, so you have learned what doom has befallen you. If not, I will explain: when you were asleep I injected you with micro-explosives that react to both the presence of adrenaline and also sonic vibrations of high magnitudes. The explosives were placed in designated areas: your hands and feet, your arms, legs, lungs, heart, and brain. This is not to say that they were necessarily placed in that particular order, so the next time you scream I might have arteries and heart gunk all over my boots.”

Cybele did not respond, but her eyes were fixed on him. Kloud now stood above her, the teapot still in hand, its spout close to her face.

“And this is concentrated acid that will burn through your flesh within moments. But you already knew that.”

As he said this, he poured the contents onto her arm, and she instantly felt her flesh burning. She screamed, and her other foot exploded.

Rolling around on the ground, Cybele knew she was finished. She knew that this monster of a man had gotten her once and for all, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“IT BURNS!!!”

she shrieked, and, just as she did so, a soft, audible tick resonated through her cranium. Moments later, the micro-explosives within her brain activated, disintegrating her skull and much of her cerebral matter. The rest oozed out of the gaping hole that dominated much of her head in liquid form. Blood pooled around her from the myriad of wounds, and Kloud laughed in hysteria.

He then skipped to the chair in which Cybele had just moments before been sitting in in a state of bliss, and poured a small cup of tea from the pot.

“She actually thought I would burn her with acid. . .silly girl.”

Cybele killed by somewhat self/mostly explosive bodily mutilation

[kloud1516]

Nice. I concede that you're probably better at this than I am.

The only reason I signed up for EtE3 was because of your death scenes from EtE2, so I must say that you are probably just as crafty if not better than I.

[kloud1516]

Orangepenguin bolted through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, searching frantically for the rest of the group. His lungs burned from overexertion, and his right arm seared with pain. He had always considered himself to be a fast thinker and an even quicker runner, but his assailant seemed to have been one step ahead of him, and had managed to get a hit in before Orange managed to flee the scene of horror. His stomach churned just thinking about the grotesque scene that had revealed itself to him just minutes ago, but he couldn’t dwell on it, for he knew that same fate was gaining on him fast. He dared one quick glance over his shoulder only to discover that his attacker had gained on him considerably, and showed no physical signs of fatigue.

How could this have happened?

He thought exasperatedly through labored gasps for air. His clothes were drenched with sweat, as if he had just stood for hours in torrential downpour, and his feet began to slide within his shoes, causing him to stumble once, twice, three times, before tripping and falling through a glass door. Shards shattered upon contact, some burying deep within his flesh, others smacking the ground with a hiss.

“No! No! No!”

Orangepenguin cried.

“Not like this, please don’t kill me!”

he pleaded, his tone a mixture of crazed terror and absolute anguish.

“Yes. Yes. Yessss...”

Came a second voice from the veil of shadow just beyond the threshold. The speaker’s tone was cold, sending shivers up Orange’s spine. Absolute malice. Evil incarnate. That is what Orange envisioned when listening to his attacker speak.

“Cybele accepted her demise, and so shall you. Right here, right now.

“YOU MONSTER! Cybele did not deserve that, no one in this world should have to face what she went through. . .except for devils like you!

The scene before the hearth game back to him in frightening detail: Cybele’s body--or what was left of it--strewn across the carpet, splinters of bone and clods of artery littering the floor while blood dripped from the ceiling. The roaring flame had continued to burn onward, and a teapot rested upon a silver platter. Right next to. . .

Him.

The sadistic one that the group called Kloud. He had purposefully separated Cybele from the group, and Orange knew that Kloud had anticipated him following soon after. Orange fought back strangled sobs as, with his undamaged arm, he began to pull himself backwards. His hand scraped against cool polished marble, and he soon realized that he had been led directly outside onto the ornately decorated patio encroaching the olympic-sized pool.

“I was going to be Cybele’s ‘Orangeberry,’”

he wailed miserably, looking up into the cloudless sky above only to find a blood red moon gazing down upon him. Its light cast an eerie sheen upon the pool’s placid water, that all but invited him in. Orange looked towards the doorway as he heard shattering shards underfoot, and watched in horror as Kloud advanced towards him.

“Well isn’t that precious,”

Kloud replied in a mocking tone before holding a metal pole aloft,

“Let me put you out of your misery. You can rejoin Cybele. Now hold still, this may hurt a lot.”

Orange doubled back, shrieking as Kloud fell upon him with lightning-strike speed. The metal pole was swung in a high arc, making contact with Orange’s other arm. There was a gruesome crack, and his whole side went numb as the other had earlier. Both of his arms were broken. He could not get up to run; could not defend himself even if he wanted to.

Orange was at the pool’s edge, mist spraying his face as a harsh wind accelerated. He wheezed and felt himself growing dizzy. Orange tried to roll over, but and felt shards of glass slide into him like daggers, grazing his internal organs and pushing against his ribs.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE

he cried weakly, just before the pole came down on his left leg. He lost feeling to the leg, and his spine tingled with pain. His right leg soon followed, and the shock resulting from his swift paralysis left him mute.

“And now, my poor excuse for a victim, I will grant you what your heart and mind most crave: Death.

And with that, Kloud nudged Orange in his right flank, sending him toppling into the pool. Orange struggled against the undulating water, but he had no way to propel himself or to stay afloat. His arms and legs were useless, and he quickly became submerged. Now his lungs

really

burned, and the strain became too much to handle.

Kloud gazed into the water intently, watching in euphoria as Orange opened his mouth to gasp for air, and filled his lungs with water. He became unnaturally still, and drifted slowly to the bottom where he did not move again.

Orangepenguin beaten into paralysis before drowning

[kloud1516]

But you

can

go wrong with carpal tunnel syndrome >.>; Glad you liked it though.

[kloud1516]

Give 3 points to chenhsi

[kloud1516]

Litral had known something had gone terribly wrong for quite some time, but hadn’t been able to figure out what was amiss. . .

Until he stumbled upon the bodies

. Pure happenstance had led him to the discovery of the lounge, where he could smell the carnage before he actually laid eyes upon it. He wished he hadn’t dared advance into the room, with its expansive fireplace and its alluring decor. But he had, ignoring the nauseating aroma of heated flesh and decay. The dregs of Cybele’s corpse sent him spiraling into inconsolable panic, his mind flooding with horrible images and possible scenarios of her last minutes alive. Litral’s heart pace quickened, blood pulsing irregularly as his muscles urged him to flee. He needed to find the group, who had failed to acknowledge the disappearance of Cybele until it was too late.

Litral snapped back into consciousness at the sound of several blood curdling shrieks that reverberated down the hallway from the distance. His face instantly lost its color as the cries for help continued, followed quickly by a rhythmic crunching and metallic echo.

“Orange. . .”

he whispered under his breath before bolting down hallway, his fear of death and anger at the fate of Cybele propelling him forward. He soon came upon the second scene, where he found

Kloud.

Standing at the pool’s edge, long metal pole stained red and dripping with life blood in his hands. Kloud bent over the side, careening into its depths, his countenance displaying a look of pure and absolutely insane bloodlust. Bone fragments and muscle, in addition to pools of blood and glass shards studded the poolside, and Litral soon deduced whose blood stained the once glistening marble as well as the weapon in Kloud’s vice grip. Orange was gone, and Kloud appeared to have no intent of stopping his rampage of death.

“You murderous sack of FILTH!”

Litral cried,

“You will pay for their deaths. Right here, right now!

“Nice of you to finally make it, Litral, I thought you may have decided not to show up,”

Kloud replied in a short and sinister tone. The killer glanced over his shoulder, eyes flashing ominously before a sadistic grin etched onto his face.

“I am not finished with my craft, so that non-present justice you are referring to is just going to have to wait. Come here, and I will continue with my administration of death.”

Just as Kloud finished uttering the last word, he snapped his body in Litral’s direct and flung himself towards the threshold. The metal bar shot from his hands like a projectile, rocketing soundlessly toward Litral. Kloud’s next target leapt out of the way deftly, and brought his knee up to meet Kloud’s chest. His knee found its target, and Litral managed to knock the air out of his assailant. In brief distraction, Litral hastily groped for the pole, and brought it down upon the back of Kloud’s head.

“DIE YOU DEVIL!

he roared in fierce triumph. But his confidence almost immediately vanished.

For Kloud would not go down that easily

Kloud dropped to the ground, evading the swing that would have indeed killed him, and drew, from his sleeve, a sinister looking dagger that flashed in the blood-red moonlight. Kloud flicked it deftly at the back of Litral’s heels, slicing the Achilles tendons swiftly. The response was immediate, Litral toppled over in a fit of screams and grunts as he hit the ground.

“AHH!”

he cried as blood quickly began to pour from the gaping incisions.

“Stay back! I can still take you.”

Litral took another swing at Kloud, who had gotten back to his feet and was towering over him with his dagger. Kloud, however, struck out again, grabbing the pole and pushing it straight into Litral’s face. The damage was definite: blood gushed from Litral’s broken nose and his lower jaw snapped off the hinges. Unconsciousness consumed the fighter, and Kloud went back to work.

“Prepare to suffer.”

Litral awoke slowly, eyes fluttering awake painfully. His face was crusted with dried blood, and, from what Litral could tell, had swelled immensely. Pain was all he could think about; his nose throbbed and his jaw felt like it was on fire. He had severed part of his tongue, and his legs had gone numb. Once the initial disorientation subsided, Litral remembered everything in gruesome detail and

Vomited up both blood and bile.

He felt a presence near him, and knew it to be Kloud. Turning as much as he could, Litral saw that Kloud was holding a string of fibrous muscles, that were then attached to weights. He followed the cord, and realized that they were HIS muscles, pulled out from the cuts in his ankles as well as from his arms. Kloud tugged on him, and Litral cried out as his innards were ripped away from the bone.

“You exercised resistance, and so you shall pay accordingly. Your predecessors were granted quick deaths. . .to a certain degree, but this will not be the same for you. You will experience every minute, every ounce of pain, until your last breath. You will not me capable of screaming for help or begging for mercy, for the pain will devour you whole as it has done so already.”

Kloud stalked to an open window, dragging Litral by his muscles behind him. He cast the muscles connected to the weights out the window, and stepped back quickly. Litral’s internal tissues continued to plummet out the window, and, as Kloud had predicted, the pain was too much to bear. Blood shot upward in geysers, and Litral’s body dragged with speed towards the window before the weights pulled him over the side and out into the night air.

Litral then continued to fall nine stories out of the mansion’s highest tower, and stopped when he landed upon a spire and was impaled. His fibrous insides ripped cleanly away from his body as they continued their descent, and Litral slid slowly down the metal spoke to which he was doomed to die on.

Hours later, after countless gallons of blood rained down upon the tower and bathed its spire, Litral finally died. His stomach, liver, and pancreas swayed merrily in the gentle night breeze, and Kloud watched from his perch as they eventually fell away as well and landed with a thud below.

Litral impaled on a tower spire after being cast out a tower window by his own ligaments, tendons, and other bodily insides.

[kloud1516]

... screwed up on the italics there.

[kloud1516]

heh, I am just a big teddy bear. xP

[kloud1516]

Bird couldn’t handle another minute of that party. He had already experienced his fair share of annoying laughs; already consumed one too many finger sandwiches; and had downed one too many glasses of soda that he knew had to be spiked, for he had this invigorating buzz that walked hand-in-hand with the worst case of perpetual dizziness he had ever come across. This is why he decided to get some fresh air. To let off some steam. To try to regain soberness before facing the crowd reveling in the festivities. He had noticed several others exit before him, and so he decided to track them down in hopes of sparking conversation with a smaller crowd.

He eventually did find one of them. . .

And someone

else

found him.

Bird chirped a merry little tune through firm lips, his eyes dancing upon the winding cobblestone path ahead of him that lead straight to the olympic-sized pool in the back corner of the mansion. He looked skyward, noticing that the moon was full, and gazed down at him with an eerie blood red hue between the colossal spired towers that loomed above him.

He gasped in surprise as he felt a water droplet hit fall upon his cheek, then another, and another.

Odd,

he thought silently, tilting his head slowly upward once more. There was not a single cloud in the sky, and yet there were raindrops pelting him at a consistent frequency now. They were warm, and had an oddly powerful iron/salty stench to them.

Funny, this water smells a lot like . . .

Blood.

Bird’s nostrils flared and his stomach contorted in a sudden pang of nausea. The aroma that wafted lazily about him was absolutely repulsive, yet the droplets continued to attack his person. Many fell onto his face, and he slowly brought a hand to his cheek to wipe them away.

His hands were smeared with a thick, sticky, and dark red liquid.

It WAS blood, and it was flowing like a river’s tributary. Bird HATED blood, and the queasy sensation that ran up his spine and built up in his gut continued to slosh back and forth.

Where is this coming from?

[/i]

And then he saw them. The strands of tissue and muscle; the stomach and the kidneys. They were flattened, and acids continued to sizzle on the cobbles. Bird doubled backward, turning to flee and to find the group to inform them of this atrocity, but his mind told him to look up yet again. It was then that he saw him. Impaled on the spire, blood continuing to gush upward like small fountains before raining down upon him.

“Litral!”

Bird’s eyes burned, becoming moist with both tears and droplets of blood that fell into them. He knelt in a fetal position, wheezing in fright, trying to erase the horrific sight he had just seen from his mind.

He had to do something. He had to tell the group. He had to act fast before . . .

Before whoever did this to Litral acted again.

He opened his eyes, and turned on his heel to run, but ran directly into a figure.

Kloud

.

“Kloud!”

he yelled.

“Look, it’s Litral! I just found him. He’s dead! Dead, dead, dead. Ohhh!”

he cried. He heard the body sliding further down the spire, and more organs tumbled out. This was just too much for him to bear. He screamed at the top of his lungs, jumped up, and began to sprint past Kloud.

“We have to get out of here! I have to get out of here! Run, before whoever did this finds us and does the same!

Kloud remained motionless as Bird advanced closer and closer. Then, with the slightest movement, stuck his foot out directly in Bird’s path. Bird did not notice, and tripped right over his foot, falling once more to the cobblestones with a grunt.

“I am sorry, Bird, but I can’t have you doing that. Not now. Not ever. You have seen what ought not have been discovered. I had planned to stop, but you have given me no choice.”

Understanding hit Bird like a Mac Truck, and was reenforced by the solid blow to the side of his head dealt by Kloud.

“NOOOO!! Please, I promise! I won’t speak a word! I SWEAR it! I will be loyal to you! I will do the work for you. Just, PLEASE don’t kill me. PLEASE!

Bird flailed on the ground as Kloud drew closer, a butter knife in hand. Panic set in, and he continued to shriek at the top of his lungs. He skidded backward shrieking and bellowing, but then Bird thought that Kloud was just tying to give him a scare. After all, what was he going to do with a

butter knife

? Not much.

“Oh! Okay, I get it. You were just joking around. You got me!”

“This is no joke. You are about to die, because of your loud mouth.

Bird barely had time to emit a nervous chuckle from his lips before Kloud pounced, butter knife in hand. Kloud kicked his victim repeatedly, before falling upon his chest, knees first. Bird gasped and cried out more, screeching as only a helpless victim could. Kloud brought the knife closer, closer, closer to Bird’s mouth, and jammed it in.

Bird’s cries were muffled as his tongue grazed against the blunt blade. He could taste the metal, could taste the rust. Kloud was just joking, and Bird knew it. But this thought soon changed as Kloud began to saw away at his tongue, drawing blood at a rapid pace.

Things then turned completely around, and Bird began to struggle against his attacker, but to no avail. With his free hand, Kloud stoically pulled another knife from his pocket.

The knife that slew Litral, blood dripping from the blade

.

Kloud jammed the blade into Birds flanks, then continued to stab as he sawed with his other hand at Bird’s tongue. Kloud could feel the struggler beneath him begin to weaken, his grip loosening as he continued to stab. Pulling the dull butter knife from Bird’s mouth, he thrust the second blade in and swiftly a good portion of his tongue straight off. Blood gushed outward, spraying Kloud in the face as he proceeded to shove the tongue into Bird’s throat where it remained logged. The helpless victim beneath him gagged, choking, suffocating on his own severed tongue.

“You have been much too loud for my liking, and now you will, ironically, be forever silenced by one of the things that allowed you to speak all these years.

Bird’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he stopped breathing. Blood began to pool within his mouth, the meaty tongue preventing access to his throat. Bird’s pulse slowly began to die out and, before Kloud had a chance to savor his kill, Bird lay motionless and dead beneath him.

Bird1111 choked on his own severed tongue

[kloud1516]

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
kloud: you know what to do now...

?? Does not compute ??

[kloud1516]

I will not execute you, BridgesAndBalloons. You have my word.

[kloud1516]

It got quiet. . .

[kloud1516]

Oh, sorry guys! Didn't realize you were all waiting for me.

I am open to suggestions on who to kill, so if you have an idea tell me.

[kloud1516]

. . . no one else has any suggestions? I have got a kill PimHel from BB even though he isn't in the game, and a "anyone but me from raider."

[kloud1516]

The party had ended for the night, most of the guests too drunk to function. One by one, they stumbled in an ungainly fashion to their rooms, closing their doors and locking them for privacy’s sake.

PimHel had not been one of the many to consume great amounts of liquor, and his senses were far from being impaired. He had been one of the first to leave, the dire impulse of wanting to take a shower after several guests threw up all over the ballroom floor leading him one of the many bathrooms on the third floor. All was quiet, save for the distant murmurs and thuds on the floors below. PimHel wanted some alone time, wanted to seek refuge in the large, king-sized bed that awaited him after purging his exterior of all the filth that had been thrown upon him.

He pushed open the door to the bathroom, and looked upon the perfectly organized area before him. The walls and floor were tiled in polished marble, so clean that he could see his reflection in every square. A mirror and a sink jutted out from a wall at the opposite end of the room, and a row of gossamer shower curtains brushed against his arm as he sped by, all but rushing to the mirror.

Dropping the assortment of toiletries he had brought for his stay, he went to the nearest shower and turned the knob quickly, watching as the water spurted, the gushed out of the shower head. Warm mist loomed about him, and made him feel more comfortable in such an expansive and, admittedly creepy mansion.

Flipping out his phone, he called one of the other guests, just to check up on them to see if they had made it to their room. The phone was picked up on the first ring.

“Uhhh...hello?”

came the voice in a slurred tone.

“Hey, just making sure you got to your room okay.”

“Yeah, finally. I thought I was going to get lost, passed by this room with a huge fire. It smelled awful in there! Someone must have puked. Then the door leading out to the pool was shattered and there was blood on the patio, so I guess that same person must have tripped or somethin’. Where are you?

“I am about to take a shower. Just took my shirt off, it was covered in spilled beer and food.”

The person on the other end giggled mischievously.

“Take a picture of yourself! Please!

“You serious !?!”

The question had startled him, but he knew that his drunken friend would probably storm up to the bathroom and beat him down if he didn’t do as he was asked. . .the guest was just that drunk. PimHel sighed,

“Fine, here we go.

PimHel faced the phone’s camera towards him, and quickly snapped a picture of himself before sending it via picture message. A moment later, he heard raucous screaming from the other end. Frantic screams.

“What’s going on! What happened!?

“Pim, there is SOMEONE ELSE in the room!!!

PimHel jerked his head over his shoulder jumping back and crashing into the glass mirror as he did so. Out of pure reflex, Pim hollered and sent a punch flying at the figure, who caught the fist and jerked it away. Pim then recognized who it was, and let out a small laugh.

“No worries mate,”

he said into the speaker,

“it’s just Kloud.”

The fit of yells continued, but PimHel could not understand them.

“He was only trying to scare me, calm down.

He shook his head with exasperation, apologizing silently to Kloud before dragging the phone away from his ear.

“Pim! He’s got a KNIFE!!! RUN!”

PimHel’s smile vanished, and he looked down to Kloud’s hands. His horrified expression stared back at him from the reflection of a razor sharp knife that Kloud held in his firm grip, and before he could react, Kloud thrust it into his gut. PimHel dropped the phone, and it skidded across the floor as blood began to pulse outward from the wound, down his bare abdomen, and onto his jeans. Pim braced himself against the sink, trying to keep himself upright as his breath began to come in shallow pants. He was in a state of shock, his senses cast aside. He looked into Kloud’s eyes, and that was all he needed to see.

Kloud was going to kill him

His attacker’s eyes blazed with sadistic intentions, and just as Pim was about to scream, another knife was buried deep into his stomach.

“Ahhhuh,”

Pim moaned as he bent over to cradle his knees. The handles of the knives jutted outward, and with his hands Pim tried to pull them free, but his innards had already closed around the blades, keeping them nice and snug. He could not think, could not fight back. He could only think about the pain, and Kloud’s hands that griped him by the hair on his head and were dragging him to the shower he had turned on. Pim stumbled and fell, the knives being pushed deeper, their points know protruding through his back. Kloud tossed him into the shower, and silently gripped the shower head.

Pulling on it, the shower head disconnected, a thick metal cord giving it leeway. Kloud dragged the cord and the shower head over to Pim, who lay on the ground near the drain, writhing in pain and struggling for breath. Kloud knelt near him and smiled an ominous smile, before wrapping the cord around Pim’s neck, knotting it several times. He then turned the shower head towards Pim’s face, water surging into his eyes and mouth. Pim tried to struggle against the water and the cord, but when he moved it began to strangle him like a noose. He had shifted into a position in which his throat was being constricted, and he couldn’t move, for the knife hilts had become stuck in the drain.

Kloud rose to his full height and turned towards the temperature knob. He stared at it silently for a moment, then cranked it all the way to the left, turning it to the hottest temperature. Pim screamed as scalding water washed over his face. He shook violently, sliding across the floor and, as he did so, the knives sliced up his chest. Blisters immediately began to form on his face, then bursted soon after, more blood tainting the meticulous bathroom.

“Be right back.”

Kloud said icily before stalking out of the walk-in shower. He scanned the area near the sink, and spotted Pim’s phone. In two powerful strides, Kloud had reached it and swept it up to his ear, where the person on other line continued to scream.

“PimHel can’t come to the phone right now, but I would gladly take a message for him . . . Not that he will be getting it.

Kloud listened to the insane screams coming from both the shower and the phone, and soon got tired of all the noise. He walked lazily back to the shower and inclined his head to look at Pim who had cut up his stomach, but had managed to pull the daggers out. Blood and tissue spiraled down the drain, and his face was beat red and bloody as well.

“Your call has been dropped. . .”

And with that, Kloud threw the phone at PimHel. The moment it came into contact with the boiling water, a tempest of sparks illuminated the shower area, currents of electricity surging through the water and up the shower head cord. PimHel spasmed, foam pouring from his mouth as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His heart had stopped almost immediately after Kloud had let loose the phone, but the burning water continued to run.

Kloud laughed childishly,

“Ha ha, dropped call. That’s what I call a pun.

PimHel, choked with shower head, stabbed with daggers, and finished off by electrocution.

[kloud1516]

Give three points to pacman

[kloud1516]

Chenhsi:

if you give me your points, I promise your safety.

[kloud1516]

So does that mean pacman is elected ??

[kloud1516]

BAB,

if you give me your points, you will be safe. As always, I promise to keep my word, and you will be part of the final five.

Hmn, I may be able to work that into another death scene. . .dum dum dummm. That is, if you all elect me again.

[kloud1516]

give 1 point to dahill; 1 point to BAB; and 1 point to pacman

I am currently rushing out the door for school, and will not be back until about 3:30, so I will get a death scene up shortly after that.

[kloud1516]

I was elected right?

[kloud1516]

Kloud sauntered through the winding corridors of the mansion, sticking closely to the shadowed recesses on either side.

His eyes were fixed on the path ahead, and his strides were ragged but certain. He was a man on a mission. . .or should I say a man on yet another hunt. Despite already claiming the lives of several victims, he could not quench his bloodlust. He could still clearly see the horror in his preys’ eyes, the violent trembles that overtook them as he drew closer, and the hypnotic state of ecstasy that washed over him as he felt their pulses slowly fizzle out. His victims had been easy kills, save Litral who retaliated out of dumfounded horror. He had simply steered them in the right direction: the path of demise, and the blood that tainted his hands and clothing fueled him to continue his wanton rampage of the house. The smell of blood, a sacrosanct to Kloud, clung to his nostrils, and he drank in the scent deeply, not wanting to let it escape. He was determined to find him, the one person who had made an attempt to spoil his fun. The person who had began to play Kloud’s game. The second phantom assailant.

Kloud was enraged when he came upon the scene that had been left for him to discover in the highest tower of the mansion. SSK had been killed, but not by Kloud’s hands. His plans had been completely disrupted, and vengeance blinded the sadistic fiend to all other things. Compassion had long since vanished from Kloud’s mind, succeeding hesitancy and guilt.

“This mansion will be forever stained, corroding from the inside out as it did to me. Whoever decided join the dance of death as my equal will fall twice as far as any of the others, I swear it.”

Kloud’s lip twitched, followed almost instantly by an irritated jerk of his head. His fingers seemed to not be able to remain still, for they had gone too long without wringing someone’s neck. Stalking past the shattered glass that led out to the pool, he continued to be lost in frenzied, horrific thoughts. He completely ignored the study that wreaked of the acrid stench of burning, rotting flesh, and continued onward silently.

But how will it be done?

he thought to himself when, as if the demons of death were smiling down upon him, the idea

And the perpetrator

came to him.

Dahill stumbled in an ungainly fashion down the corridor, drawing closer to Kloud with each and every step. A bottle of whiskey flashed silently in his hands, the light bouncing off of the walls and casting long streaks across the flooring. Once or twice, Dahill fell into the walls, cursing in a slurred way each and every time. In his opposite hand, he held a cell phone that appeared to be attached to his ear. He yelled frantically into it at irregular intervals, before throwing it aside with a painful wail. Blood drenched his clothes, the salty and metallic aroma gliding through the air, tendrils of the tantalizing fragrance caressing Kloud’s cheeks and wrapping around his throat. Kloud felt his throat go dry, his eyes narrow, and his muscles tense, ready to spring.

From his pocket, Kloud drew a cigarette lighter, and waited. It did not take long for Dahill to realize that he was not alone within the corridor, and by that time it was already far too late.

“Uhhh, hey Youu! Have you seen Pim??!?? Someone snuck up on him with a knife. Wait . . . Those eyes! Wh-what are you doing!!!

Kloud rocketed through the air, coming down on Dahill effortlessly, driving his knees into his throat.

“You are going to feel every moment of this. YOU! DAHILL! You thought you could play my game? MY GAME! Think again, SSK was mine!!”

He roared, grabbing the bottle of alcohol away from the flailing Dahill. The man beneath Kloud screamed an intangible slur of pleads, but Kloud was deaf to them. He opened the bottle, and began to pour its contents all over Dahill; into his eyes, all over his chest, down his arms. Dahill screamed in pain, blood and green ooze gushing from his eyes like miniature fountains. Kloud felt bones snap under his weight, and distantly heard the gurgling breaths that ripped through the air even though they were being emitted from just below him. His face was a mask of stone, everything about his actions mechanical, robotic. His body was numb as he felt the stimulated heart beneath him continue to pulsate, knowing that that would be lasting for only seconds more.

Kloud brought the lighter down close to Dahill’s arm, flicked his thumb against the revolving end,

and watch as a single flame leapt to life, dancing in anticipation.

Kloud brought it down to the flesh of Dahill’s arm, and watched as it ignited upon contact with the alcohol. Dahil shrieked, the flames slowly consuming his arm in an inferno of silent flame. His arm shot into the air and slapped against the wall with great force, trying everything he could think of to extinguish the flames, but his efforts were to no avail. He howled in pain as Kloud continued, following suit with the opposite arm, then bringing the flamed down directly upon Dahill’s eyes, which immediately exploded in their sockets, nervous tissue and synapses becoming tangled in Kloud’s hair.

The screams of excrutiating pain filled the hallway, shaking the mansion from its foundations, and stirring all that resided within the walls. Dahill thrashed beneath the powerful hold of Kloud, and that all too familiar scent of burning flesh billowed upwards in plumes. Kloud watched in satisfaction as the skin began to blister, peel away, and become nothing more than smoldering ash. The veins in Dahill’s throat bulged, before bursting open all the way from his chin to the base of his throat. Blood shot up in geysers, and Kloud began to grow bored.

Eerie moans and high pitched gasps shook Dahill’s now visible vocal cords, and his body spasmed in perpetual rhythm. Several times, Dahill’s torso shot off the ground, and his arms slapped against the wall with such force that all the charred bones shattered and cracked, becoming no more than piles of shards and soot.

Kloud held the bottle of alcohol aloft once more, and poured it into Dahill’s mouth, watching intently as it flowed visibly through his esophagus in certain places, and shot outward in others. Shifting his position, the silent murderer lowered the lighter once more. With a swift jerk, another lone flame sprang to life, and, as it did, Kloud thrust the lighter into Dahill’s mouth before rolling off of him.

The effect was instantaneous:

Dahill’s throat erupted into flame, heated bursts of fire jutting upward from his opened throat in thick spirals. The fire shot out from his ears, nose, mouth, and eyes. His throat disintegrated, and the fire quickly consumed the rest of his corpse.

“Burn away. Reduce to nothing. Suffer for all eternity.”

Kloud turned from the charred remains of Dahill and began to slink away. Serpents of smoke followed him from above, sticking to the ceiling whilst scavenging for a means of escaping the house. It was then that Kloud spied the cell phone once more, and remembered the voice that had nearly deafened him during the plight of Pim Hel.

It had been Dahill’s voice

The realization pounded into Kloud like a sledgehammer.

Dahill had not killed SSK, but was trying to find someone about Pim Hel. The blood . . . It had come from the murder scene of Pim, not SSK. I have killed the wrong person, the impersonator is still roaming the mansion.

Kloud let fly a powerful punch that made a large indentation in the wall. He had been driven by revenge, and, in doing so, delivered a cruel fate to someone whose time should not have come so soon. He glanced over his shoulder at the bubbling, flame eaten carcass of Dahill. A maddened expression washed across Kloud’s face, and he once again bolted back down the hallway.

Dahill burned alive appendage by appendage.

[kloud1516]

BridgesAndBallons

If elected, I promise that you will be safe.

[kloud1516]

I am happy that you think my death scenes are ok .

[kloud1516]

Smoke filled the hallways, and the clamor of footsteps from above caused the chandeliers above to sway back and forth, like pendulums on a chain. The sound of shattering vases resonated in the darkness, and the foundations of the mansion hissed in worried anticipation.

There were now two killers under one roof. There were only five beings that still drew breath. There was one mansion, and one straggler who had not been able to find the congregation of party guests that had fled the mansion, fearing that gothic abode was minutes away from being reduced to cinders.

That straggler was

Chenhsi

.

Chenhsi had escaped death once already this evening, and with veils of darkness preventing his escape from the mansion, a whisper in his subconscious began telling him that he would not be so lucky this time around. He had witnessed the grizzly death of SSK, had heard the screams from the main floor, and had been the first to dart from his room at the sound of dancing, cackling flame and writhing smoke. The terrors of earlier that night washed over him, numbed him to the core. He could not hear his own breathing, could not even feel the consistent pounding of his heart against his chest. Chenhsi’s eyes burned, tears of frustration and fear clinging to his eyes. He continued to wander aimlessly down the hallway, his footsteps dragging lazily, laggardly pulling him forward.

He abruptly stopped at the distinct thuds of rugged footfalls advancing from the shadows before him.

Reaching into his back pocket, Chenhsi grasped the hilt of several throwing daggers, and slid them into his palms that lay flat against his sides. His eyes snapped to attention, narrowing on the space encroaching him. The silhouette manifested in the faint illumination of moonlight forcing its way in from curtains that were slightly agape.

The hallway instantly wreaked of alcohol and warmed blood, and Chenhsi had to fight back the gagging sensation that forced itself upward from the base of his throat. His hold on the daggers tightened as the unknown figure continued to advance, seemingly unaware of Chenhsi’s presence. The being’s eyes shimmered, and Chenhsi observed the countenance that every single victim littering the mansion had seen before their deaths: the tinge of insanity upon his face.

Upon

Kloud’s

face

The empty bottle of alcohol snapped from Kloud’s hand, zipping through the air as if it had been fired from a cannon. Chenhsi knelt swiftly, the bottle grazing several hairs on the top of his head, before he let loose a handful of knives aimed perfectly for Kloud’s jugular. What happened next Chenhsi could not explain. One minute, the blades glistened beautifully in the moonlight, gliding true to their target, seconds away from plunging into the fiend who had terrorized (unbeknownst to Chenhsi) the mansion all night. The next instant, Kloud’s once polished, now covered in the blood of several other people, touched against Chenhsi’s knees. His other hand, equipped with several more daggers, tensed for another volley, but Kloud had no intention of being the target for another person’s projectiles.

Chenhsi all but had time to blink before the taste of blood, alcohol, soot, chlorine, stomach fluids, and leather slammed into his mouth, causing him to corkscrew just above the ground before landing with a thud several spaces away.

“So it was you, Chenhsi, who decided to take the control of others’ lives out of my hands . . . I must say, you were the last person that I would have considered to be hostile, but then again people are full of surprises, wouldn’t you say?”

A menacing growl vibrated the air around Chenhsi’s already buzzing ears. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose, but other than that, Chenhsi was unharmed. Spitting in hopes of purging the vile tastes from his mouth, Chenhsi looked up to Kloud, eyes ablaze. His knives were scattered across the floor around him, and he knew that he was not quick enough to get ahold of one before Kloud would reach him. He also knew what Kloud was referring to. Kloud had discovered the scene created by pacman, who had saved his life.

But chenhsi had no intentions of betraying another to save his own life.

“You are mistaken, Kloud. Yes, I witnessed the death of SSK, but I did not play a part in anything.”

“YOU LIE!”

Kloud hissed, taking two giant strides so that he towered over Chenhsi. He knelt above his target slowly, ominously close.

“If it wasn’t you, tell me who DID kill him. I will spare your life, and end the life of the person you tell me.”

Chenhsi roared with laughter, before spitting in Kloud’s face.

“I will not be giving you any information! You will not be killing me either. You think you can call the shots, well let me tell you,”

he continued, drawing one last knife he had not noticed before from his back pocket,

“I will not be some other helpless victim for you to prey upon!

Chenhsi struck out with the knife, aiming directly between Kloud’s eyes. The blade continued its course, his wrist firm and his arm lightning-fast.

But Kloud was once again faster.

The assailant’s own hand rocketed outward, grabbing Chenhsi’s by the wrist firmly. He quickly twisted it to one side, and Chenhsi heard (and felt) the snap that followed. His fingers relaxed, and the dagger fell, its point having just touched Kloud’s face.

Kloud’s hand fell to Chenhsi’s neck, followed quickly by the other. His fingers locked around Chenhsi’s throat, constricting tightly, preventing air from entering or exiting Chenhsi’s body. But Kloud did not intend to strangle his opposition. Instead, he began to bang Chenhsi’s head repeatedly against the floor, gashes and bruises forming almost instantly. Blood trickled down Chenhsi’s face, and his eyes rolled within their sockets, dazed and disoriented.

Kloud’s hands left Chenhsi’s throat, but before Chenhsi could regain his senses, Kloud thrust his hands into his victim’s gut, his nails penetrating Chenhsi’s skin like it was butter.



Chenhsi gasped, then jerked as Kloud’s fingers wriggled deeper and deeper, until they came into contact with something inside: Chenhsi’s intestines. Kloud’s victim continued to struggle, but the concussion he had been dealt prevented his hits from doing any damage, and the sight of more blood did not help make him stronger.

Chenhsi’s bodily fluids began to burn away at Kloud’s already scarred hands, but that did not deter him. His fingers wrapped around the small intestines, and he pulled vigorously at them, using his body as extra force. The intestines followed Kloud backward as he fell off of Chensi, bursting forth from his victim with a grotesque ripping sound. Acids shot skyward, bathing both beings without mercy. Chenhsi’s once roaring screams began to die down into laboring gasps, the loss of blood and organs beginning to take its toll. Kloud had removed the small intestines from Chenhsi’s body, and had almost finished with the large intestines.

“Slaughtered, slaughtered, slaughtered . . . Like a pig and Litral!”

Kloud shrieked in delight as he tugged the intestines free of Chenhsi. The many chemicals began to intoxicate Chenhsi’s body, and several different blood clots formed consecutively. With the final pull and tear, these clots sprung to life, traveling both to Chenhsi’s weakly beating heart and brain, overwhelming them and causing them to lose function.

With an agonizing moan, Chenhsi’s head rolled to the side, from his mouth blood gurgled outward, and he joined all of the others.

Chensi, death by “dissection” and blood clots.

[kloud1516]

EBWOP: Chenhsi ^^ sorry about the mispelling.

BridgesAndBalloons

If you give me your points, you are safe.

[kloud1516]

It only takes four points? Or is that in addition to BaB's?

[kloud1516]

I'm sorry you didn't like your death scene.

Give 3 points to raider

[kloud1516]

The flames that had sparked panic among the remaining houseguests had long since died down. The thick veil of smoke that had enveloped the upper reaches of the mansion was buffeted onward by a gentle breeze. All was calm . . .

Well, maybe not all.

The remaining group of friends had not remained ignorant of the consistent disappearances. A lone guest would leave the congregation, but would never return. Surely, they all agreed aloud, that this wasn’t a coincidence. The group as a whole had been flustered by the spontaneous fire, and none of them wanted to leave the group, for each and every one of them feared the mansion, its brooding interior striking paranoia and anxiety into everyone’s minds. Even so, they knew that they would have to get to the bottom of this, and so the group selected Kloud and BridgesAndBalloons to go round up the others.

Bridges had shown no apprehension to traversing the mansion with Kloud, for he felt there wasn’t a need to. They slowly exited the dining hall, plunging into the darkness of the ornately decorated manor.

“It is so creepy in here,”

said Bridges in a hushed whisper as they continued onward. Both he and Kloud held flashlights aloft, slowly moving them back and forth in monotonous unison.

“I can’t believe I slept through most of the action! It must have been quite some party if so many people left wasted to go to bed.”

Bridges continued his attempts to keep small talk going, more so to distract himself from the walls that seemed to be closing in around him, herding him and Kloud onward into its bowels from whence they would not return.

At the same time, Bridges could not help but notice silently that something was not right with Kloud. His hair was an unkempt, haphazard mess, and his clothes were in no better fashion. The colors of his attire seemed to be warped and wet, as if he had just returned from wringing them out in a sink. Dark pools collected under his eyes, and in the meager light encroaching them, Bridges shuddered at the gaunt appearance Kloud’s face undertook.
They turned a corner and ascended several flights of stairs. Bridges allowed Kloud to lead the way, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts. He noticed Kloud slowing his pace, then stop completely next to one of the many doors lining the hallways.

“This is SSK’s room,”

Kloud said softly, his voice deathly calm. Bridges watched him tap on the door with his flash light. Once, twice, three times Kloud tapped, before slowly reaching down to turn the doorknob. It opened silently, and light from within the room temporarily blinded them both. Kloud motioned for them to enter, and Bridges followed quickly after, all but flinging himself out of the retched darkness.

“He’s not here? Where could he have gone to?”

Bridges stepped pass Kloud, further into the room. Clothes had been strewn across the floor, some smudged with dark red liquid that Bridges assumed to be wine. The closet doors had been flung wide open, its contents thrown about the room as if someone had just ransacked the space. Polaroid photos littered the bed top, and Bridges took several steps closer to look at them.

And recoiled almost instantly after scrutinizing the first one.

“Oh my! . . . Kloud, look at these! It’s horrible.”

Kloud stepped closer, but only slightly as if intentionally trying to keep his distance from Bridges. Kloud’s hands were balled into tight fists, his knuckles chalky white. Bridges’ comrade would not look him in the eye, and said nothing in response.

Turning back to the photos, Bridges began to discern who each and every person was by process of elimination. The photographs were ghastly, each death seeming unique, yet just as terrifyingly grotesque as the last.

“Who could do such things,”

Bridges whispered, eyes wide in shock,

“What unspeakable evil and madness hides within this house?”

Bridges was speaking more to himself than to Kloud, but still Kloud answered.

“Don’t you know?”

He asked coldly, Bridges turning slowly towards him in response to Kloud’s tone.

“They deserved their ends, each and every one of them . . . Except one.

Bridges had only but enough time to inhale before Kloud was inches from him, the heat from his body sending shivers up Bridges chilled flesh. Bridges tried to step backwards, but was prevented by the bed from going any further.

“I don’t understand, Kloud. YOU did this?!?

The fear in Bridges voice betrayed his composed countenance, and he noticed that Kloud’s gaze had drifted upward.

Their eyes met, and once again Bridges recoiled. Those eyes. The eyes of evil incarnate--bore into his soul, searching hungrily, feeding off the fear.

“SSK didn’t deserve this--”

“None of them deserved what you did! You sick excuse for a--”

“And yet you killed him. You stole from me my one joy that this house has provided, the one release from my agony. You snatched it from my grasp, and ran with it, masquerading as a murderous mastermind.”

Bridges made an attempt to interject his comments again, but Kloud punched him across the face with such force that it sent him sprawling across the bed. Kloud drew from his pocket his weapon of choice:

A potato peeler

and drew closer, flashlight still in his other hand.

“How convenient for you to have been missing the majority of the time from the party. I would have spotted you earlier, and persuaded you to return. Neither of us had made a lasting appearance, which is why I know that it is you that killed SSK. Chenhsi would not reveal to me who it was, so I came here and found a bag of your things in here. You have evaded me until now, but your time is up.”

Bridges made a move to jump up, but Kloud brought the end of the flashlight down upon his face, bashing it for more than a minute straight. Blood oozed everywhere, and many of Bridges teeth had been knocked out. His face swelled, and his hands shot up to nurse the wounds. Kloud had heard several cracks, and inferred that he had managed to do more damage to Bridges than just breaking his nose. Bridges eyes dilated and began to swirl, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He whimpered and writhed on the bed, and Kloud stood enjoying his pain for several moments more.

Kloud then drew forth a tough, long substance, and began to wrap Bridges’ arms and feet to the four corners of the bed. The rope Kloud decided to use just happened to be a certain person’s small intestines, and they held just as well as any other fiber would. Once assuring that Bridges was not going anywhere any time soon, Kloud began his work.

Bringing the potato peeler down on Bridges’ forearm, he slid it slowly across the top layer of flesh, his eyes flashing as both blood and a strip of skin followed his trajectory. He slid the potato peeler down to Bridges’ wrist, then tugged the strip of flesh off and laid it meticulously beside him. All the while, Bridges had erupted into a fury of shrieks and hollers, but SSK’s room was on the completely opposite end of the mansion and three stories above the room in which Pacman and Raider sat obliviously.

Kloud brought the peeler down right next to the barren area of blood covered arm, and repeated the exact same process.

This process continued for nearly two hours, Bridges’ screams gradually deteriorating after a substantial loss of blood.

In those two hours, Kloud had managed to peel every inch of skin off of Bridges, from the base of his neck to his ankles and wrists, Bridges had been stripped of skin:

Flayed alive

Blood smothered the bed comforter, soaking through the mattress so that it took on a spongy consistency. Kloud noticed that Bridges chest, in some unthinkable way, continued to rise in fall. Faintly, yes, but it Bridges still breathed. With a growl, Kloud began to scrape away at Bridges’ chest with the potato peeler, blood gushing from the blade and also continuing to flow from his mouth. Bridge’s eyes had gone blank, and all that could escape his lips were hushed yelps. Kloud carved away at Bridges’ chest, until he reached the lungs underneath. He continued to watch them quiver back and forth, struggling to fill with air before pumping the oxygen out to the depleted blood supply.

The rhythm of Bridges’ laboring lungs enthralled Kloud, but eventually he lost interest, and stabbed both with his potato peeler, listening to them bust like balloons, then watching them deflate. Without breath, Bridges’ body seized up, almost instantly going into a state of rigor mortis. The blood flowing from his mouth ceased, and Kloud literally watched Bridges’ heart heave its last pumps.

And, as Bridges died, one opportunity for a vote in the Final round died as well

He had killed SSK’s killer,

Or so he thought.

BridgesAndBallons, flayed alive before being deflated

[kloud1516]

A dismal night slowly advanced into a dismal morning. Rain plummeted to the earth in a seemingly torrential downpour, pelting the Earth’s dampened flesh without a second thought. Lightning veined across the still darkened sky, and peals of thunder roared to live, causing the many bay windows of the mansion to tremble.

Pacman and Raider dozed off while waiting for Bridges and Kloud to return, but after several minutes, the events of the party and the panic afterwards began to finally catch up with them. Their minds had begun to wander, and both slowly drifted into sleep. Both stirred at the first booming blasts of thunder, and the heavy hammer of rain upon the windows prevented them from falling back asleep. Both were groggy and disoriented, but slowly came to their senses.

They heard footsteps advancing upon the door leading in to one of the many lounges within the manor, and both sat up immediately, waiting in anticipation for the group of hung-over party guests to come shuffling in.

Only Kloud entered.

He carried a covered platter and an opaque iron pitcher carefully over to the two and set it down on one of the ottomans between the two couches that Pacman and Raider had grown so fond of. He then grabbed three glasses, and handed one to each of them. Both guests could see the joy in his eyes, the humorous thoughts that tugged at his lips and brightened his face. Both wanted to drill him with questions about his sudden change of mood, but the overriding desire for food won.

The food smelled delicious, and both guests could not help but salivate, as they had been going for nearly twenty four hours with only finger sandwiches earlier in the evening.

“Smells awesome, Kloud!”

said Raider, leaning off of the couch ever so slightly as if trying to take a peak at what was beneath the lid of the platter.

“Gah! I am starving.”

He continued with a chuckle as his stomach churned and gurgled.

“You say that as if you are the only one that will be eating! Back off Raider!”

The tone in Pacman’s voice was humorous, but he was indeed just as hungry if not more famished than Raider.

“The rest of the house decided that they wanted to sleep off last night. Most seem to not be noticing the storm. I thought I would make something small for us while we wait for the others.”

And with that, he lifted the lid off the platter.

Revealing scrambled eggs with cheese, topped with

what appeared to be strips of bacon

Around the perimeter of the dish was what looked like chitlins, or pig intestines. The latter did not looks so appetizing to the two, but both immediately delved into the food that Kloud had prepared for them with vigor, scooping large piles of eggs and bacon onto their plates.

Raider all but inhaled his first serving, even before Pacman had began to eat. Pacman scrutinized the bacon in confusion, for what was on his plate did not look like your every day bacon, and the chitlins did not look like chitlins, but he was not going to be rude, and so he decided to just eat the eggs.

“I’m glad you both like it.”

Kloud said merrily,

“would you like some grape juice? Sorry, this is all I have besides what is left of the wine.”

Kloud poured a goblet of dark red liquid first into Raiders glass, then watched as he dumped it down his throat without so much as a glance at what it was. He then extended his arm fervently for a refill, and Kloud obliged with a faint gleam in his eyes. Raider did the same with this glass, then ran his knuckles across his mouth.

Raider began to cough in gruesome wheezes.

“That is some strong grape juice! Tastes almost like blood!”

He managed to say between coughs. His body trembled, than began to shudder violently. Pacman kept his gaze upon his plate, not daring to steal a glance at Raider.

“That’s because it is, my good friend. It is the blood of almost every single person missing from our gathering. It is the blood of ten other people, which I have infected with a high concentration of almost every kind of virus and disease that I could get my hands on. Smallpox, measles, mumps, syphilis, bubonic disease, influenza, HIV/AIDS, Hepatitis A, B, and C, and many others.

Raider’s body seized, hitching him off the couch and onto his knees in front of Kloud. His heart was pounding like at the frequency of a humming bird’s wings, and thought for sure his heart was simply going to burst from his chest. He began to vomit back up the blood he had just consumed, with such a force that it bursted blood vessels in his eyes and broke several ribs. The diseases had already been absorbed by his body, of that he was certain.

Pacman sat in absolute horror.

“Not to mention, Raider, that you have just eaten three helpings of eggs topped with peeled skin from Bridges, and even had half of one segment of chenhsi’s large intestine. So, not only have you doomed yourself with diseases, but you have also consumed rotting, maggot infested organs of your fellow houseguests!”

Raider doubled over and screamed in agony. He rolled around on the floor, blood continuing to shoot from his mouth. His hands and fingers contorted into odd positions, the paralysis of polio starting to work its magic. He could not speak, for his vocal cords seared with pain, and he was slowly losing vision due to all of the blood vessels that he had busted. A rash slowly worked its way down from his throat to the middle of his torso--smallpox--and his insides churned in response to eating raw meat. Raider began to slide himself away from the couches, but Kloud followed, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out of the room.

“There is a chance to save yourself, for there are antidotes to every disease infecting you within THIS pit:”

Kloud kicked open a door before reaching in with his other hand to turn on the light. It flickered ominously once, twice, three times, before bursting to life, and revealing one of the true horrors of the mansion. The flooring of the room had been stripped away so that one step in would mean falling a story or to into an enclosed pit. At the bottom of the pit was a sea of different needles and rusty syringes. Each contained a different medicine, and each injection would be as painful as the last.

“Enjoy!”

And with that, Kloud tossed Raider into the pit. He landed with a gruesome thud, several of the needle points piercing his skin and burying deep within his muscles. He cried out in agony, but knew he had to act fast. He pushed the ends of the syringes fervently, injecting himself with everything possible.

He continued to do this, before realizing what it was he had injected himself with.

The labels on the syringes indicated he had just shot himself full of Arsenic, Cyanide, Mercury, and Sodium Oxide. Chemical compounds that had already began to corrode his body. More needles rained down upon him as Kloud began to pour bins of syringes into the pit. Raider’s eyes exploded from their sockets, and his heart followed suit, enlarging with effort as blood began to accumulate within the many chambers. His ribs bulged outward, tearing through muscle and skin, and the diseases and poison finally overtook him.

Raider drew his last wheezing breath as he vomited up more blood and maggots. The poisons pooled within his lungs, before burning them away and continuing on through his body.

Raider, adopted cannibalism to consume raw meat and maggots, drank two glasses of infected blood, then shot himself full of lethal poisons.

[kloud1516]

Haha! I am glad you liked it.

On another note:

. . . I can't believe I actually made it to the Final Two.

[kloud1516]

Would anyone like me to explain my actions both in the game and outside the thread for clarity? I am sure pacman will agree to it, as this will surely get the majority of people to vote for him.

[kloud1516]

I know that this will most likely convince all of you to vote for Pacman, but if I am one thing it is straightforward and to the point. Chenhsi requested my thoughts throughout the game, and so here they are.

I am not going to vigorously campain for me to win, for I feel like being elected so many times was just as enjoyable as actually winning the game. I know the majority of you probably do not particularly care for me because of me executing you, but I feel like I played the best game I could. When I promised someone something, I did what I said I would do. In order to stay in the game, I kept providing gruesome death scenes to please everyone. After a point, it became necessary for me to get elected, for I knew that if anyone else did I was a goner. I hope you all take this into consideration when voting.

And thank you Max for the vote.

Pregame

: I already knew Cybele was going to be pushing for her election, which would inevitably insure my death early in the game, and I was determined not to let this happen. Because of the immediate threat of Cybele killing me should she be elected, she obviously became my first choice for a target. I let everyone know this up front, and hoped that I would be chosen over her.

I knew how pivotal a strong alliance had proven to be in this game. In EtE3, I had made one, but all of my allies were wiped out in the early rounds, and I was gone soon after. I was uncertain how many points I would be able to get without an alliance, and the necessity arose to make one. I sent out five requests, hoping to at least get a solid group of six before the game started. Once the alliance was established, I felt somewhat more secure about my position in the game, and thus I was ready to play.

I knew that Cybele would probably be in the same alliance as past games: chenhsi, Orangepenguin, Bird111, Crazy, and Blackberry. Luckily for me, the last two decided not to enter. The game then started.

Round 1

: Dahill1 made a proposal to kill Max. I decided that even if I wasn’t elected, this would be the best alternative, and so I gave two of my three points to him. He upheld his proposal, and Max was out.

Round 2

: I knew this would be the round that would decide everything. Dahill had been happy with his kill of Max, and this set the stage for me and Cybele. At this point, I was still uncertain as to what the outcome would be, but I managed to acquire enough points to be elected.

Despite being elected, I took a mental note of who had voted for Cybele: Litral and Orangepenguin. The “I can be your orangeberry” comment stood out quite a bit to me, figuring that when I killed Cybele, it would be Orangepenguin that would be the one trying to get revenge.

Round 3

: I was elected again; something I had not expected. I was counting on someone from within my alliance or someone that I felt would not kill me being elected, but my first death scene had gotten me reelected. My choice had already been made, and so I killed Orangepenguin.

Round 4

: Despite not wanting to be, I was once again elected. I wasn’t exactly sure who would be the best kill, and so I decided to execute the only other person that had voted for Cybele: Litral.

Round 5

: Elected again. There was one person remaining from Cybele’s previous EtE3 alliance (for chenhsi had claimed to not trust Cybele and gave me his points if I remember correctly), and so I decided to eliminate the possible opposition. I killed Bird, wary of him progressing through the game like he did last time.

Round 6

: By this point, my alliance was not really communicating with one another as I had hoped. Bridges was v/la, and provided me with a means of getting three points each round: promising his safety. I still trusted that Bridges would be faithful to the alliance, and so I didn’t have any intention of killing him. The points was just an extra incentive to vocally promise his safety.

I managed to get elected again, and this is where things began to get a little dicey. Despite being in an alliance, I couldn’t help but be suspicious of PimHel’s loyalty. He hadn’t done much of anything to indicate plans of betrayal. Even so, the fact that of all people, Orange gave his points to Pim sent a red flag flying in the back of my mind. This, in addition to the fact that PimHel had consistently not given me his points drove me to execute him, and, in doing so, go against the alliance.

Still unsure of what to do, I asked openly in the thread for suggestions of who to kill. Everyone said PimHel, including Pacman. I sent him a message to make it known that should I kill PimHel, the alliance would be broken. I knew I would need support, so I suggested here that we go to the final two together. He agreed. I did not want opposition, and the possibility of Pim maybe having an alliance with Orange before his death and the withholding of his points were factors I didn’t want to put me in jeopardy later on. It was nothing personal, PimHel, but at this point everyone else had given me their points, and I couldn’t risk it.

Round 7

: SSK starts off by giving his points to Dahill. Alarms went off right then and there, and led me to believe that SSK had made an alliance with Dahill once I had executed someone from within our alliance. Pacman then requested to be elected, but I wasn’t so sure if I could trust him.

Because of this, I tried to convince him that SSK and Bridges would be coming after us for killing Pim, and that Dahill would most likely kill either one of us because he had aligned himself with SSK. I hoped that by doing this, Pacman would not execute me if he was elected. He ended up becoming the executioner, and SSK -- who had not given me his points -- was killed.

Round 8

: The thought of a possible connection with SSK and Dahill lingered on my mind as the round began. I got the three points from Bridges, and then everyone but Dahill gave me points. I was once again elected, and once again decided to snuff out a possible threat to my staying in the game.

Round 9

: This round was a hard decision for me. I had promised Bridges that I would not kill him, but I did not want to kill chenhsi or Raider yet. In the end, I decided that I would stick to my word and not kill Bridges. Then it was a toss-up between Raider and chenhsi. I took into consideration past rounds, in which chenhsi had not given me his points. Raider, on the other hand, had given me points almost every round (if not every round.) Because of this, I decided to keep Raider who would give me his points, and kill chenhsi.

Round 10

: The Final Four. I couldn’t believe I was still in the game, and I did not want to get executed having made it so far. I promised to keep Bridges safe again, and had intended to kill Raider. Then something changed: Bridges returned. I realized that Bridges would not be so intent on giving me his points after killing off PimHel. I assumed that the giving of Bridges’ points would only apply while he was v/la, I did not want to take the chance of him betraying me. Once again, I remembered that Raider had continued to give me his points without me having to promise him safety, and so I killed Bridges.

Round 11

: Raider had earlier said he did not want to go to the final two when I asked him, and Pacman had remained loyal to me as I had to him. The choice was an easy one to make, for I was keeping my word to both of them by killing Raider.

[kloud1516]

Note: I did not have any alliances at all in the game... interesting that I still lasted so long...

You lasted so long because I felt I could trust you. You gave me your points, and you didn't attempt to steal points from me either. That is why I didn't kill you early on.

[kloud1516]

No, I did not. I sent each of you almost the exact same message right after you agreed to the alliance, providing the quick topic link.

[kloud1516]

Sorry, I misread the quicktopic. And, it was a lie that I was into that alliance. I had no idea.

Pac, were you in or not? Don't lie, because everything is known now.

I didn't know anything about the alliance. This is a kamikaze post, but it is the true. My only ally was kloud.

I told you who else had already agreed to be in the alliance when you said you wanted to continue with our alliance from EtE3.

[kloud1516]

Final Three = Kickass

I am glad you think so.

[kloud1516]

[kloud1516]

No, I did not. I sent each of you almost the exact same message right after you agreed to the alliance, providing the quick topic link.

kloud:

This is your last chance to be honest. If you had really used his name in the quick topic, I will vote for you to win.

I was honest with you the first time. I didn't ever write as pacman in the quick topic. Why would I need to? He has already claimed in the thread that he voted for dahill because he didn't want Max to kill him, which was exactly what he said in the quick topic. You think I just happened to make that up?

[kloud1516]

Whoa. I will add this to my list of priorities, but a scene will have to wait until tomorrow as I am really busy at the moment. I promise that tomorrow (Friday) there will be quite a finale for this game.