[Durelin]

The dancers were getting restless, particularly now that they saw the evil they faced was far from invincible and unstoppable. They wanted more blood to pay for what blood had already been spilt, they wanted vengeance, they wanted an end to the torment and the slaughter… It was judgment day.

So naturally, they had a dance-off.

While the band was nearing an end to their current movement, the guests were narrowing down their suspects…a bit. There were eleven of them left, each with their own ideas. Three nasty souls ate away at the party from the inside while the others were busily trying to catch them.

There were eleven of them left…and from them were picked the fateful four. The others called them the “four contestants,” and that seemed to sound good enough for those four to cooperate, even indulge in this opportunity to show off their mad skillz.

First up was mormegil, and he awed everyone with his rude break-dancing moves. Then it was Valier, who, for some reason, could do the chicken dance at the speed of light. Third was Eomer, who danced the Highland Fling atop a dangerously spiked war shield. Obviously he felt it likely the Werewolf had to be among the four. And last was Naria with her “Walk Like a Venetian,” which seemed to involve more kicking than any walk anyone had ever seen.

It was an exciting lineup, and the contestants certainly were excited: so much so that they did not notice the click of barrels loading.

But before the firing squad fired a single shot, one of Naria’s kicks ended in her shoe flying into the air, the sharp stiletto plunging itself into Eomer’s face. With a yell, his own footing was disrupted, and after slicing his ankle on it, the shield slid toward Valier, who was still shaking her tail feathers. She tripped on the heavy wooden slap and fell head first onto one of the metal spikes. Her beautiful plumage was destroyed in the process, and her beak snapped off her mask in the process, which shot straight into the neck of mormegil, whose spinning body came to a grinding halt.

Everyone watched as three more flames appeared in the chandelier above them. All eyes were now on Naria.

A freak stiletto accident…or a wolfish scheme?

“Oh,” Naria suddenly exclaimed, “there’s my shoe!” She wrenched it out of Eomer’s head and slid it back on her foot.

“She’s loony,” Lalwendë said, in shock.

Cailín stared wide-eyed at Eomer’s lifeless form.

Macalaure silently locked and loaded, his eyes on Naria.

She turned to him, giggled, and took off toward a conveniently placed window.

“You can’t catch me!” she cried.

A shot ran out, but Naria’s momentum drove her forward into a half-filled with winter-themed paperware trash bin. She would have been appalled if she was able to be anything at all anymore.

Another flame joined the eight already flickering on the chandelier.

And thus it would be recorded in memory and in legend, and no one would feel prepared to make judgment upon them; were they the four heroes…or the four stooges?


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The Dead Dead

Durelin (Mod and Hostess) – Ghostbusted on Rest (Night) the First
CaptainofDespair (Co-mod and Host) – Ghostbusted on Rest (Night) the First
Kath (Ordinary Villager) – Pinned and Labeled by the Mob on Dance (Day) the First
Kitanna (Ordinary Villager) – Minced, Placed in the Band, and Hardcore Harpsichorded on Rest (Night) the Second
Celuien (Werewolf) – Lassoed and Spurred by the Dancers on Dance (Day) the Second
Rikae (Ordinary Villager) – Trimmed and Bedecked on Rest (Night) the Third
Eomer of the Rohirrim (Ordinary Villager) – Stilettoed on Dance (Day) the Third
Valier (Ordinary Villager) – Highland Flinged on Dance (Day) the Third
mormegil (Ordinary Villager) – Beak Danced (hardy harr) on Dance (Day) the Third
Naria (Ordinary Villager) – Thrown in the Loony Bin on Dance (Day) the Third


The Living Dead

Farael as a Fair-looking Orc
Nogrod as a Nice Choirboy
Lalwendë as a (Mischievous Little) Christmas Elf
Naria as a Spoiled Heiress wearing a Venetian half mask
Macalaure as a Mime
Cailín as a Robin
Holbytlass as a Court Jester
Folwren as an Elegant, Cold, Stoic, Mysterious Countess



“You have been dying since the day
You were born
You know it has all been planned
The quartet of deliverance rides
A sinner once a sinner twice
No need for confession now
Cause now you have got the fight of your life”
~Metallica, The Four Horsemen