Evening, Day Six
The delegates were very quiet that day. Perhaps it was the rumor of dragons going around that added to their misery. Perhaps it was that theyd been pushing people off of cliffs for days with nothing to show for it. Or maybe it was just that there were no mysterious objects to vote for.
In any case, it probably didnt help matters that the accusations that day centered around two of those whod spent most of their time drafting and writing up proposals to add to the peace treaty somehow that felt wrong, whatever the suspicions that people might hold. The Scribe J-man left the other diplomats to their work by mid-afternoon to try to defend himself; in contrast, Lead Envoy reverend oats continued his quiet discussions with KingMorgan and oyzar the Clerk now the most senior diplomat left among the Ljosalfar as if his name had never come up at all.
In the end, J-mans protestations of innocence came to nothing. Feeling unaccountably optimistic (given their track record) that they had finally caught an assassin, most of the camp came down to the edge of the cliff to watch the execution. J-man himself stood calmly in their midst, his ink-stained fingers hanging loosely at his sides, shoulders back and relaxed, eyes alert.
Perhaps too alert. Dartagnan59 was the first to lay hands on the seeming Ljosalfar, or try to. He got J-mans foot in his ribs and collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. That gave J-man time to draw his knife.
Come to me, said Alazkan. Whoever wants to die
The assassin had no shortage of volunteers. The pent up fear and anxiety of the past six days exploded into rage. Even the great Alazkan could not defeat a mob. His knife flashed silver again and again, but finally the assassin was borne to the ground, his knife-hand crushed and his body broken. Seeing him defeated, the mob drew back.
Peace is a false security, whispered the dying hero, and only the weak desire it. The War Party will prevail. With those words, Alazkan was dead.
The delegates paid a price for their victory. Bruises and scrapes abounded. Nictel had been punched in the head in the confusion and would be unconscious for hours. Niklas had sustained a broken nose. Oyzar had suffered a cut across the ribs, and Icekommander a stab wound to his leg. And Dartagnan59 still had trouble breathing.
All of those would heal. RRRaskolnikov would not. One of the first into the fray, the burly City Guard had taken a stab wound to the gut, and he had bled to death before the fight was even over. There was precious little vegetation on the island to use for fuel, and all of it damp, but in honor of his heroism, the other delegates contrived a funeral bier regardless, and watched in silence as his body burned. Alazkan, on the other hand, was committed unceremoniously to the roaring river.
It was full dark by the time the funeral ended, and most were too exhausted to eat, even if Niklas had been in any mood to cook. They returned to their tents in silence, and those few who had any appetite dug through their belongings for odds and ends of dried fruit or hard cheese. Mergle was one of those who was hungry, which was unfortunate for him. His body would not be found for hours, but when it was, the cause of death was obvious once again, the poisoner had struck.
The cause of peace had scored a victory that day. But it was not yet nearly enough.
Accusations
Diamondeye:
Stuck in Pi J-man
Shadowbound:
oyzar reverend oats
The13thRonin:
J-man
J-man:
D'artagnan59 J-man
mergle:
J-man
Nictel:
reverend oats
ZPV:
reverend oats
Winston Hughes:
reverend oats J-man
D'artagnan59:
J-man
Catharsis:
J-man
Splime:
J-man
Niklas:
J-man
Backwards Logic:
J-man
Stuck in Pi: 0
oyzar: 0
J-man: 8
D'artagnan59: 0
reverend oats: 3
Injuries are just for show; they have no in-game consequence. However, RRRaskolnikov is in fact dead. 
It is now night. Belongings as usual go up for bid in the morning. Sleep well.
}
