TRIAL IV

[lesmodsalouette]

Trial

Another Saturday, but this Saturday is your last Saturday. If everything holds, if everything works out. After all you've been through, are you capable of being an optimist? The carnival calls regardless, furniture arranged around as they always are with banquet table and pit in the middle.

This week's new offerings are: a fluffy loaf of a certain type of rye bread, a hearty beef stew and an assortment of fresh pies with candied fruit and cream.

For the last time, find out who killed two of your own: G'raha Tia and Sariel.

(( OOC: Welcome to your first trial! You'll have 7 hours (until 8 PM EDT/5 PM PDT) to vote one (1) person guilty of murder. As this is scapegoat style, a correct vote is not necessary. Please remember to vote unless otherwise discussed with the mods, as that is our AC for this game ))

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Comments

[oncefallen]

[Vanis has almost a foot on her. He's also underweight and has no muscle tone to speak of, so when combined with the weakness from running low on mana, it doesn't take much to wrest that arm behind his back even as he struggles and rages.

He's not giving up, though, even as his energy starts to flag. His anger is still burning, and that's all he needs for the moment.]

Let go of me...!!

[antemeridian]

If you want to do anything useful for Sariel [ because she doesn't trust the Witch, she doesn't trust his goddess, she doesn't trust that the dead have their side of things handled, ] then drop it.

[ 'whose side are you even on?' 'i am an ally to the rational-minded, and an enemy to those who would pursue pointless conflicts.

'which one are you?'

not that she thinks he's really in a state for anyone to reason with, right now. no one short of Sariel, anyway. but she'll try anyway, futilely, for a moment, to give the blaze of his anger a chance to burn itself out, because that's what she does these days, she tries, and tries, and tries and tries so that someone else won't have to.

but if he really won't stop, she'll do it for him. you don't need strength to knock someone out— you just need to know where to hit them, and given that she's shorter than him, his jaw makes for quite the target. ]

[oncefallen]

[He will not stop, alas, not when Hwylryn keeps saying things that unintentionally hit right at all of the spots where he's already wounded, wounds that are still raw and festering even centuries later, torn open anew by the events of the past day.

And so, when she strikes, he'll drop like a puppet whose strings have been cut, all of that anger extinguished for the moment along with his consciousness.

It's probably for the best, honestly. He buried "Wrath" 1600 years ago when he fell.]