Mafiascum.net

[9]davesaz: Thor665, Josh_B, AxleGreaser, The Fonz, Shiro, Slandaar, Nero Cain, beastcharizard, reinoe -- LYNCH

[4] Boonskiies, T S O, TierShift, Izariael
[3] goodmorning, Flubbernugget, davesaz
[1] Scripten

[0]

With 17 alive, it takes 9 to lynch.

(expired on 2014-11-19 18:27:52)


None.

The terror that had been creeping steadily into the gardens had thickened from a light mist to a gelatinous mass that impeded all movement and disturbed the mind constantly. The revelers saw only an altered form of reality, one in which torpor permeated everything: the blurry lights swayed to and fro, the river undulated with uncharacteristically deliberate speed, and the wind did not blow so much as curl and weave slowly through the congregants. More than a few guests looked down at their drained cups, wondering if they had been drugged.

Amid the entranced masses danced a pale, lithe figure, like a radiant specter through tenebrous shadows. About her flowed a gossamer tunic, not so loose that it engulfed her completely, but loose and long enough to permit the bodily flourishes that her art required. As supple as her body was, as fluid her motions, few could rip their gaze from her intricate mask, which stood preeminent among all others: some mask-masker's , a true marvel of engineering. It was made of thin silver wire and decorated with pearls, delicate yet somehow solid enough to conceal her features. It covered her entire face with a thin web of stars and other shapes bent out of the pliable metal, and converged into an elegant crest that ran over the top of her head and disappeared into her thick stream of her platinum hair. As the inspired, almost ecstatic dancer would reach out in feigned longing to her admirers, the crowd would swell forward toward her, as if the ocean at higher tide pulled by the gravitational force of the shining moon. Her routine ended with a frenetic jerking of the body and a balletic pirouette into a graceful vertical split. The stunned crowd witnessed her swift departure in silence that was finally broken by mutters and gasps. Another corpse had been found, this one with a note scrawled in elegant script: They were wrong.

Most partygoers had reached a nadir of despair, hardly able to move or think. A small minority -- an insidious, nefarious, cunning, malevolent minority -- still maintained a level of exuberance that would be unseemly, and probably lethal given that it would belie their motives. And so they feigned the anguish and fear that bound the other guests.

The arrival of prodigious amounts of food and wine provided a delectable and mollifying distraction. Even the servers enjoyed the onerous task of replacing the ravaged feast with an even larger one: they too were confined to the premises by the party's shadowy puppetmaster. What seemed a gift turned out to be the party's Trojan horse: it did not take long for some guests to begin clutching at their throats. When their masks were ripped off, swollen and impurpled eyes stared into the night sky, lifeless yet terrified. No one bothered attempting to find the poisoned needles in the gastronomical haystack. They did, however, feel more sure than ever that they would be leaving as corpses.

Vote: Beast

Garmr