TAU III A Cuckoo in the Nest

[Drainial]

Hello and welcome to the grand opening of the Third Tzeentchen's amongst us. Now Slaaneshi get a bad rep in this game, time and time again they are demonised, ostracised and carved into ity bity chunks, so I thought it was about time we indulged in a little role reversal, enjoy.
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The walls were draped with thick silk tapestries of the finest weave, each displaying portraits of exquisite elves of all kinds engaged in unspeakable sexual debauchery. Not a dull colour was to be seen, not a single subdued shade, of course no one entering the room would pay the slightest bit of attention to the furnishings, there were far more interesting sights to see.

Sprawled on a round bed ten meters wide a tall male elf lay naked against a post thrusting out of the centre; chained to the post were his pets, sinuous maidens and males all handpicked for their depravity. Naked too they writhed together, the moaning and wailing sweet music to accompany their play. Music of a more conventional kind threaded through the song, harps, flutes and brazen trumpets melded in a cacophony of noise fit to stretch the senses and bathe the mind in glory.

Sat at the centre of it all the elf seemed unmoved, he did not join his concubines in sport nor listen to the orchestra. The tapestries did not move him and the drugs did not seem worth the effort it would take to call for them. Aleash was bored, he was always bored. It didn't matter what he tried, what new and exciting toys or tunes, the most beautiful maidens, the ugliest of men, nothing helped. He was just bored.

It was the way of the Slaaneshi, ever to seek yet seldom to find. The sweetest fruits lost their flavour, the bitterest became bland and the raging roar of bison become less interesting than the swish of curtain fabric.

"I wish," he said, barely audible over the moaning and the screeching
"I wish," he murmured, eye lids drooping
"I wish something exiting would happen."

"My lord," one of his playthings rose up before him, tears in her eyes with a pout on her pretty lips. "Are you not happy my lord, do we not please you?"
He could not be bothered to answer, such chattering beasts he had, he would have to get rid of them; but not right now. Eyes closing Aleash drifted off to sleep.

It was the silence that woke him; the orchestra cut out and all his toys were silent, it wasn't natural. Opening his eyes he discovered a very strange scene, everything was the same, but everything was still. His slaves were frozen entangled all about him. Gazing to the left he saw one violinist, arm raised bow and all in a flourish, but everything was frozen. Straightening Aleash found that he at least could move.
"Hey," he said, tapping one slave on the shoulder, no response "Hey!" he slapped another fully across the face, nothing.

"They can't hear you, there is really no point." The voice came without warning, it was strangely familiar. Turning his jaw near dropped, he had not been surprised in over a decade, it was delicious, but also dangerous. Instead of the elf he had expected the weirdly androgynous voice seemed to be coming from a cat. It was small, sleek and white with a streak of black running from head to tail. It was also floating.

"Who...what..." Aleash stammered. The cat yawned
"Oh I don't think I will bother with an introduction, but rest assured you know me very well indeed so relax, you are amongst friends." Though the creature's tone was soothing Aleash was in no mood to relax, mind blurred and spinning he eventually managed to formulate a complete sentence
"What do you want?"
"Oh, to kill you, naturally." The cat said it in such a matter of fact tone that it took a few moments for the words to penetrate.

"Kill... kill me. Why?"
"Why do trees need fire to grow?"
"You speak in riddles."
"Yes, yes I do, and not very complicated ones. Unfortunately I don't think you are in any state to work through them, best get it over with don't you think?"

Talking cats and the threat of death sharpened the mind wonderfully, in one graceful leap Aleash hurtled of the bed, grabbed a gilded cattle goad hanging from the wall and brought it crashing down upon the strange fiend's head.

Or rather that was what he intended to do. Another time, in any other place he could have done it and done it with the utmost ease, but no sooner did he bunch his muscles than they relaxed again. He couldn’t move.

"Oh no we can't be having that, you just stay put my lord. This won't hurt a bit."
Aleash's skin, seconds before white and opaque as alabaster began to turn translucent, veins, arteries, muscle and flesh could all be seen quite clearly. He tried to scream, nothing came. Slowly muscle faded and bones emerged, till they too took on the appearance of glass. The elf's heart could be seen beating now, one by one the organs faded. The heart was last to go, as it shimmered and changed the beat faltered, then stopped entirely.

Looking down upon it's handiwork the Tzeentchen was quite pleased. Looking up from amongst its’ fleshy servants there sat a statue like none other. Entirely of shining diamond it was perfect in every particular, every pore, every freckle, every vein and every organ crystallised. The look upon its face when it realised that the end of sensation had arrived was its own reward.

Chuckling the cat winked out of sight, as it left time began to flow once more, and moans and wails were replaced by screeching and cries for help.

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“Mistress,” the voice was soft, uncertain and Mila decided that it could wait.
“Mistress,” it was a little more insistent this time, still, probably not important.
“Mistress,” it really wasn’t going away was it
“Oh for the love of the Prince Mila get your arse out of bed.” That woke her up. Sitting straight she opened her eyes. Standing before the luxurious four poster was one of her slaves, well of a sort.

“I thought you were supposed to meek and submissive Katala, or have you exhausted the possibilities of servitude already?” Her fellow cultist shrugged, causing the fine golden chain around her neck to clink
“I tried to wake you like that; it’s not my fault if you can’t take your wine and this is more important.” That had her worried, when Katala committed to one of her experiments she didn’t stop until she had squeezed every morsel of sensation from it, if she was coming out of character before she was done...

“What has happened?” Pulling a silken robe over her shoulders she savoured the mild thudding at the back of her mind, it wasn’t that she couldn’t take her wine, what she had drunk last night would have floored a concrete elephant.

“Aleash is dead.” It didn’t come as much of a shock; he had been close to the edge with no imagination.
“So? The elf was desperate, he had already fulfilled all of his desires, maybe he thought it was...”
“It wasn’t suicide.” Katala cut in, though it was a phenomenon that plagued the upper echelons of the cult of pleasure.
“Overdose?”
“No,”
“Accident?”
“Definitely not,”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Well, maybe it was an overdose; know any drugs that turn you to crystal?” Mila gloried in the sensation of shock that rippled through her on hearing that piece of news.

“I think I had better see this,”
“Yes mistress,” Katala bowed her head
“You’re a slave again? Mila asked
“Yes mistress.” The priestess sighed; it was clearly going to be a long day.
“Come along then.”

“Who found him?” Mila asked, examining the statue of her friend more closely, there could be no doubt that it was him.
“His slaves, according to them he was fine one minute, the next he turns into a statue, not so much as a flash of light.” The priestess hissed, that was fearsome magic, the cult had only one enemy with both the power and the inclination to do something like this.

“It would appear,” she said, voice laden with exhaustion, dread and excitement each in equal measure “that we have Tzeentchen’s amongst us.
“Yes mistress,” Mila rolled her eyes’, this was hardly the time for meekness
“Have all of Aleash’s slaves executed,” it was a sensible precaution, but Mila did not think that it would help, no the Tzeentchen’s would not be posing as slaves. “There are only twelve cultists, besides ourselves, who knew where Aleash was. I want them all in the second dining hall in an hour, no excuses; drag them by their ears if you have to.

“Yes mistress,”
“And would you stop that!”
“Stop what mistress?” Katala asked, already halfway to the door, the very soul of innocence and servitude
“Never mind,
“Yes mistress.”
_______________________________________________________________________

Fifty nine minutes later the last cultist was deposited in the hall to find the others sat around a huge polished oak table. None of the usual distractions were available, but one object arrested the eye, Aleash was seated at the foot of the table opposite the high priestess of this most exclusive pleasure cult.

“Ok, now that we are all here I can tell you what is going on, and before someone else complains yes I am well aware that it is three in the morning, I don’t care.” Pointing to the stature grimacing at her from the other end of the room she began

“That is Aleash, as you can see he is not doing very well. I am fairly sure that his murderer is in this very room, I mean to find out who it is, if they have any accomplices, and then cut their heads off. Unfortunately we have practically no evidence, nothing aside from the statue its self, so I am leaving it up to you. You decide who is for the chop, and you find who did this before they find the rest of us, I have no desire to spend the rest of time as the star exhibit of the national gallery.
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It is now day (Well ok it’s three in the morning but your sleep cycle will just have to cope). Day ends 12 midnight on the 31st of January, happy voting.

Edit, on reflection (not to mention consultation, I have decided to lengthen the days, day will now end (providing no majority is reached first) on the 1st of feb.

[Belial]

Narrowly surviving the endavours of his, to say it lightly, interesting stint on a Black Ark, Belial had sought other activities, closer to home, since his father still didn't seem to accept him as his rightful heir. Finding the cult had been easy for one of his noble stature. His iniatiation was assured thanks to his deft skill with a flute.
He shifted in his seat, his crimson velvet robes gliding over the delicate skin.
"Ah, ladies and gentlemen, this should prove exciting..."
He ran a finger down his cheek, the talon-ring on it drawing a faint line of blood.
"You know me. Belial, musician, disowned lordling and seeker of pleasure. I am afraid though, that I don't recall all of your names. Being new and all."

[Kefka]

Kefka stretched his tired limbs as he entered the room. He took note of the crystalline statue as he entered, but thought nothing of it until Mila mentioned who it was. If he was shaken, he showed no sign of it. Kefka pleasured in relaxation, and took narcotics to help his body seem to be in near endless sleep. He was almost as much of a statue as Aleash at the other end of the room, yet he was not comatose, or crystal.
"Well Belial, a good mistral. Your music has lulled my mind before. Greetings to the rest of you. If you do not know me, I am Kefka. My past, well, my past is dead. Life as a high ranking generals son was too hard. My death was faked almost as soon as I discovered the Lord of Pleasure and this cult."
Those who knew Kefka knew he rarely left his room, and almost never the walls of the cult. He kept a close watch on those in its halls, helping Mila and the higher ups 'check' new recruits and slaves as they entered the cult. He felt it a failure that someone had infiltrated his halls, and may yet infiltrate his own bedroom in an uninviting matter. "I hope we can end this quickly, I do so hate such arduous tasks."

[Sleekdd]

Sleek rubbed his right ear with a slight pout. He didn't think Katala was serious when she said they all had to gather in the dining hall.

“Well then, if we are to introduce ourselves, I will follow suit,” he says. “I am Sleek as you probably know. It seems our worth is to be tested much like the way we test our senses. I don't suppose I need to voice the suggestion to make life as hard as possible on the infiltrators. One way of doing so is by forcing them to take part in our conversation.”

Sleek glances at the others, noting the musician and the ever-relaxed bouncer of the cult among the others. He himself has various fields of interests though foremost it lay with gems – you could not deny the inherent beauty in a perfectly crafted gem in his opinion – and this incidentally allows him to travel in search of said, enjoying epic views reserved only for those with a mission, either thrust upon them by themselves or by others.

[Sassmaw]

Adrain entered the dining hall and was filled with elegant suprise to see that Katala had spoken the truth.
"Well this is a delectable sssuprissse" his tongue, split like a snake to give a hightened sence of tast, slithered out of his mouth. The snake skin robe flowing behind him in his quick step. His snake like teath glistened with what looked like black ouzz. His eyes were compleatly red and staring into the faces of others he spoke,
" I am Adrain. My fasination with snakes knows no bounds and i will do annnnnythhhhhing to aqure their poison. I find it can make..... impressssive narcoticsss."
He paused and looked around...
" We have... introduccced ourselvesss but who are the ressst of you?"

[Tarbo]

Tarbo yawned particularly inelegantly, his face so low on the table that he only narrowly avoided taking a bite out of it. His bloodshot eyes stared dully past the blades of his scissors that he held up on the table. Three... in the effing morning.

In reality, Tarbo was something of a night owl, unrelenting in his passion until deep in the late hours. His passion, most celebrated by residents both local and almost local, was in tailoring; he was a man with good fashion sense, excellent visual acuity, and a steady hand. Another passion of Tarbo's was playing the organ. This passion, also carried into the later hours, was much less celebrated by locals, and added to the popularity of his tailored clothing -- "You simply must finish this dress! Tonight."

But this evening, he had been visiting some close friends of his; friends that the Good Doctor brewed once every while. And the Good Doctor always shared.

Three in the morning --or, more accurately put, in the effing morning-- was about one hour after the sense of invincibility had passed and a headache with a massive, thumping bassline tried to hammer his brain out through his skull. Tarbo promised his agonized mind he wouldn't touch that stuff ever again. Or at least until next Wednesday.

"Good evening," he finally pulled enough of him together to utter. "Or... morning, I suppose.

"My name is Tarbo." He filled his lungs with several mouthfuls of good but chilly air, and found himself momentarily lost of words. An awkward silence filled the conversational gap. "I'm the tailor."

[Zzug]

Most of the others around her yawned, dozed off, or seemed to just be waking up. Zarra, however, had not yet gone to bed. She had been up late, preparing to seduce a rather lofty noble and turn him to Slaanesh. small shinning jewels hung from the dozens of piercings in her ears, her dark purple hair was held up, tied behind her head as she had not yet had the chance to do anything with it. Her makeup was half-finished, but despite these flaws, her beauty still showed.
"A short introduction master tailor, i hope you have nothing to hide." She looked to the rest in the room. "Same to the rest of you. If you know me, Zarra, you know I hate being interrupted, especially when I am preparing for a... date... with a prospective client for our cult. May the Lord of Pleasure watch over us and not let others ruin our fun..."

[Tarbo]

Tarbo's glance rolled wearily to Zarra while muttering undistinctly about pots and kettles, but didn't really dignify it with a proper response. Instead, he slid his glazed eyes over the others present and snorted through his lips with a mix of indignance and incredulity. "If my lack of verbosity irks you, milady," he then said with some clarity, "I can at least take some comfort in the knowledge that our peers will do a much better job at annoying you than I can really be bothered to attempt.

"In fact," he groaned as he pulled himself more upright, "I'm a bit miffed, myself. While we've been given some extra time by our gracious hostess, so few people have spoken that, even if we could somehow agree on a suspect, we wouldn't have the manpower to push a vote.

"So I'm considering stirring the pot a little. Unkindly."

Vote: Highborn on a Black Dragon

[Zzug]

"Make no mistake, Tarbo,I meant no offense." Zarra offered as an apology for Tarbo. "You have still said far more then many of the others here. We already run short on time yet few of us here are too asleep to notice the danger! Although I agree with you starting to boil the kettle, the ingredients yet to even notice they are in it. Give them a little more time,I am sure that if they remain silent, our lady shall see to their disposal."

[Highborn on black dragon]

"Well, well, I see that, although I haven't spoken yet, I'm becoming the target of accusation." The voice belonged to a young druchii, sitting in one of the lounges. He was dressed in green silk, his long white hair falling freely on his shoulders. His cold blue eyes focused on Tarbo. "Would you allow me at least to introduce myself?" and without waiting for an answer, he continued "My name is Ostrar, for those of you, who don't know me. I've been serving the Cult for twenty years now and I must say, that I'm doing it with quite the devotion. I agree that we need to act with haste, but I don't see why I'm the most likely first candidate for the executioner's axe. At this point everyone have equal chances to turn out as traitor. Nevertheless I agree with you, Tarbo. We need to act quickly in order to achieve victory."


Vote: Tarbo

[Tarbo]

"And 'lo, it speaks!" Tarbo waved his sleeves once. "Barely does the sound of my voice --and vote-- leave the air, or the silence of the lambs is broken. Is it... magic? Perhaps. I wonder, if I hadn't announced a vote for him, whether still he would have spoken. We will never know."

He took a deep breath and waved it off. "And frankly, I've already stopped caring. I believe we now number seven who have found their tongue and that means we are still short quite a few."

[Telrunya]

Out of a smokey corner, a light flashes. Some smackey noises of someone lighting a pipe, followed by a typical waving motion to extinguish the match while still smacking on the pipe. This must be Telrunya, the cook of this club and an avid smoker. What goes into the pipe is a mystery, but it never fails to produce the same thick grayish fog which cover most of his physical attributes. It is hard to say what colour his hair naturally has for when it is not hidden by smoke, it is covered by grayish dust.

He used to be an impressive cook but the incessant smoking must have killed his taste papillae and now the powers that be try to keep him out of the kitchen whenever possible, much to Telrunya's dismay. It was no secret that trading taste for smoking has left Telrunya unhappy and he has been looking for new thrills, new passions, to replace it ever since.

With Ostrar's vote, a grin formed on Telrunya's lips, revealing a curtain of yellow-blackish teeth.

"I was just hoping that something interesting would happen. Well, Ostrar, at least one thing needs to be said: Tarbo's vote for you sure woke you up. Let's see whether I can put my vote to an equally noble cause.

"Mistress Mila, is it possible to have a quick glance at the list of people you have summoned?"

[Highborn on black dragon]

"Magic isn't the word I'd use - self-preservation is more to my liking. We can't allow random throw of someone's vote to cripple our ranks, can we? As for the list of names, our society isn't one to tolerate documentation. Just take a look and pick the most suspicious one."

OOC: Vote for a player by his nick, i guess it won't be a problem

[Sleekdd]

“As some of you undoubtedly know, it is by speaking up, by stepping up to the plate that we can find and root out the infiltrators, not by sitting quietly in some dark corner and avoiding action.” Sleek says. “The more people who refuse to speak up, the easier it gets for the infiltrators to hide. After all, you can't make mistakes if you're not doing anything.”

“So far, four of us still haven't given any sign of life. Now, I know it's a long day but with the eight councillors who seem awake, we would have to be at near-unanimity to get something done – not a very plausible outcome. Still, time is ticking away and we can't mull around endlessly.”

“But something interesting happened still,” Sleek announces. “The moment Tarbo placed a vote, Ostrar jumps to life, and not just to give a sign of life neither. No, he reacted in a pretty peculiar fashion.”

“First off, he indicates it is unfair to be poked before he even introduced himself, never mind it took said poking to kick him into action,” Sleek says. “Next, he agrees with Tarbo that action must be taken and he … votes for Tarbo, not some other quiet councillor. Reasoning isn't needed here obviously since he isn't giving one, which leads me to think he is striking back in panic – not the most redeeming trait in this situation since we are looking for people who want to escape attention because they have something to hide.”

“Now, we can't be sure of one's motives to act in a given way but Ostrar's reaction looks like Tarbo either struck gold or a chord.”

“For the moment, I'll give the other quiet councillors some time to wake up but our time is starting to run out and we will need to decide on some course of action soon.”
“Meanwhile, I would ask of those who are awake to voice their opinions; the more we have, the more likely we are to find the culprits.”

[Belial]

"Now, I'll have to interject that Ostrar's reaction is pretty normal... Whether he's a traitor or a loyal follower, everyone would be interested in keeping their own hides..."
Belial licked his lips, his piercing stare boring into Ostrar's eyes.
"That said, this one is just as worthy of a vote as everyone else, and is so far the only one that we'd heard speak beyond an introduction. If nothing else crops up, then it's worth a shot, condemning him for displaying self-preservation. But we really need to hear from the rest of you."

[Cathel]

Cathel rose from his chair. His face and arms showing part of the scars that covered his body. Receiving and inflicting pain and having something to show afterwards was his goal in life.

"Sleek, don't be so fast, maybe he takes his pleasure in voting. I think we will have to punish some people around here to get further. Our cause will get easier with more time passed. So either we hope.
My dear Sleek, if we vote for you, would you just sit there and thank us or strike back as a sign of your guilt? Just following your reasoning."

[Sassmaw]

it... sssemsss that we cannot make a ... deccition without the input of othersss. I do not condem Ostrar for vote in in.. ssself persservation.... We are all fighting for our livesss are we not?

[Tarbo]

Tarbo held his arms crossed across his chest, pensive lineaments drawing over his weary face while he stared at Ostrar. "We shouldn't fault a man for a sense of self-preservation. We should, however, stamp out thoroughly any behaviour that hinders our progress. Silence rather than collaboration is one such character flaw, and the value of self over that of the group even more.

"So no, master Adrian, there are those of us that do not fight for our lives alone but for yours as well. While I will be worth more to you dead than alive, you will not catch me 'retaliating' for 'self-preservation' in exclusion to making an actual contribution of any sort. And we must demand that very least from all of us. The sooner we can admit to ourselves that we are all in this together, the better our individual chances as well."

"And so, I must admit to some residual disappointement," he continued. "Given the opportunity to contribute, Ostrar's reaction was to slap his vote on the man challenging his mental presence. Not only did he put himself squarely in the center of attention by this, but he also missed out on mentioning exactly why he holds me suspect which, I don't need to tell you, certainly did not make him friends.

"Had he considered this for a moment, he would surely have taken some other action. Which lends me to believe he did not, in fact, think it through. Which brings us to Sleek's hypothesis: panic."

Tarbo nodded thoughtfully to himself. "No, I believe I'm rather pleased with where my vote is, at the moment."

[Telrunya]

Telrunya leaned back in his chair, sucking his pipe with the necessary noise.

"Very wise words, Sleek. It gives something to think about. My belief is that, if the choice is between having struck gold or a chord with Ostrar (Highborn on Black Dragon), it would be a chord. A C major. With the C from cowardice."

With these words, Telrunya started laughing out loud. Quickly the laughter was mixed with an unhealthy sounding cough, resulting in a 'jabba jabba jabba' sounding annoyance, which luckily faded rather quickly.

"No, I would expect an infiltrator to think before saying something. And hopefully to put less contradictions in so few sentences." Telrunya blows a smoke circle. "Of course, he could just as well have panicked and be flaying wildly about, and be an infiltrator."

Taking another deep breath through his pipe, Telrunya continues. "And my dear Cathel, I'm not certain what you are trying to say. If it is a subtle threat, then it lacks subtlety. If it is a hypothetical situation which really interests you, then I suggest you get it over with.

"Me? I am mostly interested in seeing whether votes do indeed have the magical property of stirring uninteresting concoctions into more fruitful conversations."

Vote: LordAnubis

[Kefka]

Kefka sat and watched the arguments arise. Politics was not his thing, but neither was barbarism... or talking to others, or a great deal of other things matter of factually. But he did notice when not to trust people, a whole life spent in very intimate situations taught a druchii such things.
"The way I see Orstars reaction" Kefka finally spoke up. "Is that he agrees with Tarbo, something must be done, quickly, and actions must be decisive. Although I did not originally agree with Tarbos wild accusation, Ostrar has done next to nothing to defend himself, only halt Tarbo and any further gaining of this court. If you wanted this court to go somewhere, Ostrar, then you would at least give reason for suspicion against someone other then 'he voted for me, boohoo.' So either give us better reason to not suspect you, or prepare for the consequences."

[Highborn on black dragon]

"And how do you propose me to defend myself against such an accusation. Tarbo's arguments are no better than mine - "we need to act, so lets vote for a random person". How do you defend yourself against this. I can tell you stories about the practices I've participated in, show you the maiden I've been playing with before the summoning of this... council, but I highly doubt it'll do any good. Druchii are good in seeing treachery in all things, so I'm sure you'll find a way to put it against me. Tarbo did not show in any way, that he has anything against me and now I'm doing the only sensible thing. In this case voting against Tarbo. Why? No, Telrunya, not out of cowardice. Out of practicality. If we vote against Tarbo and it happens so, that he's a follower of Tzeentch, then we have a clue. If we vote against him and he turns out as loyal to the Dark Prince, then we have eliminated one person, that is going to slow down the council. Because, lets be honest, after our little struggle here, there's no possible way that he'll be letting me go, without placing his vote against me, which will be quite the mistake and will further make things difficult for us, who need to remove the traitors from our ranks. Again, at this point it's very easy to use the same words against me. I can't convince you in any other way, except with words, that I'm not a traitor, but I hope that you'll believe me this one time."

[Tarbo]

"You assume much, Ostrar, vehemently too much for your good, while obscuring facts and reasons that have been given and were plain to see.

"What most deeply separates the infiltrators from us during our sessions is that they have a wish not to be uncovered. Silence is their best friend; if we breed silence, then no loyalist can be exonerated, and no infiltrator can give himself away. Therefore, if we are to make any progress, any at all, then we must all participate. And you, amongst many others, failed spectacularly to do so.

"So you see, Ostrar, my vote against you was not out of spite, nor out of immediate suspicion or malice. It was out of a wish to have you participate and, while you may find my methods distasteful, you cannot argue with the results. You spoke.

"But even more, you squealed. While I was at first content to leave it at this, having picked you randomly from a depressingly impressive list of draft dodgers, it was you who cemented my vote by your --how did you call it?-- 'practical' reaction. You assume I will not let you off the hook --a bold assumption-- and that alone would warrant my death.

"And exactly that blatant disregard for your peers, for the reasoning laid out and repeated to you ad nauseam, is why you've earned my further scrutiny. Not to mention the fact that you wish to prove your innocence by taking off my head which --you'll understand-- did not much endear you to me.

"And let us not overdramatise this whole affair, Ostrar. You need at least six more votes from your peers to be condemned, same as I. Carry yourself with some dignity."

[Telrunya]

Although mostly obscured by the thick smoke from his pipe, Telrunya has peered his eyes into slits, trying to stare down the shadowy figure he had haphazardly slammed his vote on. His eyes widened as he turned his attention to his pipe or, more to the point, the diminishing amount of smoke it produced.

Adding new 'stuff' to his pipe, he said: "Ostrar (Highborn on Black Dragon), you agree with Tarbo that something has to happen and, as to make a point, you slam your vote on the first person who is actually trying to progress the council. And why was this? Self-preservation. You squeal and scream and cry together most of the pity that can be amassed in this room, because it is not fair that you, who has kept his grand silence blocking the council, has been singled out as 'obstructive'.

"Tarbo sticks out his neck to vote for you, hoping it would add something to the discussion, and --as by magic-- you start talking. Not only this, but you choose to strike at the one person who did what everyone should have been up to. And you do so not by principle, I might add, since I haven't heard any complaints from you about my vote for ... that person over there. Why do you keep up all these theatrics, I then ask myself. Bravery by taking a stance against common sense? Or malice because your only concern is to survive this day regardless of the consequences on tomorrow?

"And it is this last interpretation that makes you look guilty. Of course, they can also be adequately explained by an unhealthy dose of cowardice, and this is where my guess lies. It's hardly more than a gut feeling, but yes, I fear Ostrar might be fighting on our side."

Telrunya takes some time to light his pipe.

"But I would gladly be proven wrong."

Telrunya sucks his pipe with some vigor. "Anyway, this topic has probably gotten far more attention then it deserves and we need to take a stance at some point, preferably sooner than later. I would suggest following one of the three votes open now or start a completely new line of thought, but do not tarry any longer. Even if it has to come as far that we can't even vote off a councilor, then at least everyone should have taken a stance today. About something that actually matters."

[Highborn on black dragon]

"I see you were too busy filling your pipe and being obsessed by your opinion to listen to what I've said - I voted for Tarbo, because I know that I'm not guilty and if we both continue to be in the council, there's no way the one would let the other live. It'll be most unfortunate if it so happens, that we both fight on the same side, but it's something, that can't be prevented at this point. And let me ask you something - was I supposed to just remain silent while my loyalty was questioned? You call it squealing and Tarbo calls it absence of dignity. Well, to me it's the exact opposite of these things - I stood when I was accused and I defended my honour. Even if I die here, I won't have any regrets, considering my "dignity"."

[Sassmaw]

"Ah Telrunnya.... why mussst we take a ssstance when ther isss not enough argumntsss in either direction to.... perssswayed my vote. You may call thiss ... impeeding the councccil, but i perferrr not to kill thossse who could be helping me"

Adrains head slithered around to look at those who still have not talked.

" Time isss running out... ssspeak or you will faceee.... concequincesss"