[The Saucepan Man]

As the delegates gathered in the council chamber, it was immediately apparent that two more of their number was missing. Once again, those present trailed nervously to the absent delegates’ huts, fearing the worst.

The occupant of the first lay on her bed, her face contorted in a rictus grin. At first it was assumed that she had died in great agony. But further inspection revealed three sticks strewn about the room, each bound at the end with a cluster of chicken feathers. Slowly, it dawned on the delegates that the expression on Rikae’s face was not one of pain, but of pure, unremitting, deadly laughter. The naughty delegate from the village with the unlikely name of Castle Anthrax had been tickled to death.

The second hut was decked about with many herbs and plants of the surrounding woodland. Sprigs of mistletoe and belladonna there were, bunches of ivy leaves, mandrake roots, holly berries, garlic cloves, mustard seeds and rose petals. Jars and bottles of strange powders and potions lined the shelves. The occupant of the hut was slouched forward at the table, upon which were set a mortar and pestle, a bowl of dark liquid and yet more herbs and plants.

“Phew, strong stuff!” exclaimed one of the delegates, sniffing the contents of the bowl.

“No wonder he’s overslept,” laughed another. “Looks like he’s going to have a mighty hangover.”

“Rouse yourself, good sir,” said a third, shaking the prone man by the shoulder. “’Tis time to…”

But her words died in her mouth as the man’s body slumped back, and those crowded round him gasped with horror. Where the man’s eyes should have been, there were now only empty, hollow sockets, and it was clear that his sightless slumber was the sleep of the dead. With a further cry of disgust, the delegate who had been examining the bowl dropped it on the table. As its contests spilled over, de Legate of Amon Lanc’s eyeballs slowly surfaced and stared grimly up at them.

De Legate had been a far seeing Druid of Radagast, but now he saw no more.

The dead:

The Saucepan Man - Slaughtered and boiled up in a spicy ghoulash on Night zero.
xyzzy - Got bored of the role-based banter and hung himself quietly on Day 1 (Ordinary Innocent)
Meneltarmacil - Fatally wounded in sooth he was and crawled awaye to find ye deathe in ye woodes on Nighte 1 (Werewolfe)
Rune Son of Bjarne - Hunted and added to his own trophy collection on Night 1 (Ordinary Innocent)
Durelin - Spied on things which should not be seen and got hung for it on Night 1 (Thief)
Kath - Burned at the stake and spurned by her Lord on Day 2 (Priestess of Sauron)
Rikae - Tickled mercilessly and died with a smile on her face on Night 2 (Ordinary Innocent)
Legate of Amon Lanc - Underwent radical optical surgery and lost his life and his foresight on Night 2 (Druid)

The living:

Mormegil
Aganzir - the Dwarf delegate of a Woodsmen village
Gil-Galad
Shastanis Althreduin - the extremely detail-oriented centaur delegate from the Plains
Volo - the very hairy delegate from as far as it gets
Nogrod - the moody delegate from the Witch-burners' village who is ready and willing to form a theory to suit his feelings whatever the facts ...
Boromir88 - the filibuster delegate from Laketown, whose geography is not that good
The Sixth Wizard
Thinlómien - the Delegate of INSTRAW
Isabellkya - the delegate from the village Kyaq
the guy who be short - the delegate from nearby Necropolis
Mithalwen - the delegate of an anarco-sydicalist commune, taking her turn as a sort of executive officer for the week
Feanor of the Peredhil - the slightly offbeat delegate who offers controversial suggestions to the moot regardless of lycanthropic tendencies

Day 3 has begun. Nightly activities must cease. You may start talking.