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( EXECUTION - THE BEGINNING OF AN END )
![]() At 8:00 AM, Heather, Girge and Andersen will be gently roused awake like all other Sunday mornings. Akane Kurashiki is nowhere to be found, but the faceless men will stop by to serve each of the survivors a grand breakfast to start their day. They will be allowed to do as they please until 9:00 AM, when Craftly's voice will be heard over the static filled P.A. system. And as promised, Craftly will be waiting for all three of them in the parking lot. A brightly lit torch will be held in one of his hands, and he motions for them to follow him with a tilt of his head. Without hesitation, he approaches the fog — and watches as it parts to create a narrow path. Any resident that's unwilling to follow him will find their body moving on their own, and within the next fifteen minutes, all four of them will be threading down unfamiliar paths. More specifically, the path that leads to Lake Crotin. It doesn't take long for them to reach the clearing next to the lake. And once they do, the fog surrounds them once again, blocking off their only exit. |
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so she'll wait, close to andersen in case he needs her.. even though she knew there wasn't much she could do in the face of a God. ]
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Time to see how the Unclean reacts, though.]
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Good.
[A beat, and then—]
Craftly, drown him in the lake.
[None of the survivors will have enough time to react before one of the faceless men unceremoniously picks Andersen up, rushing him over to Craftly. If Heather and Girge try to follow, they'll find themselves restrained by the other staff.
Fun times for all. What now?]
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[ heather echoes andersen, as it's finally time for her to speak up. she does try to run after him, but her arms are immediately grabbed. doesn't stop her from kicking. ]
What the hell are you about to do with him? Don't you need him for your dumbass ritual?
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... The Unclean's rituals tend not to be very pleasant.
[He can guess where this is going.]
Would that be the case here, oh Unclean?
[Please don't just murder Andersen for fun, at least.]
cw drowning in gross lake waters
[And with that, both Heather and Girge are pulled into an impromptu prayer circle around the lake, holding hands with the faceless men as they raise their arms towards the Unclean. With how tall they are, both of them might... uh. Find themselves dangling from their arms, feet inches away from the ground. Sorry for the seven feet tall Oompa Loompas.
In the meanwhile, Andersen is handed over to Craftly without a hint of delicateness. Much like a child's stuffed animal, he's held up by Craftly's hands under his armpits. Ew? Regardless, the Innkeeper seems a little apologetic about it. He'll even speak to him as he walks into the lake, deep enough they the water reaches his elbows.]
... My apologies, Mister Andersen.
[He's then dunking him into the waters, holding him down with no intent of letting go until Andersen chokes and drowns.]
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N—No! I thought this shit was over! I'm so sick of this.. [ it takes everything for her not to blaspheme against the unclean. she knows it wouldn't end well. once andersen's body floats to the top like a dead tadpole, all she can do is sigh. a long, weary sigh. ] Is it over yet..? Can you let go of us now?
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...
[After watching what few friends he had kill themselves yesterday, he can't say he enjoys watching Andersen die (?), but if nothing else, he's too tired for the pain to be anything but dull.
They just have to wait for it to be done with, for the Unclean to give permission—for Andersen to come back.]
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Except, nah. Not really. Craftly lifts him up by the back of his shirt, shaking him like a wet rag, and then gives him a good smack between his shoulders. Once, twice, thrice—]
The time for dramatics is over, sir. Wake up. We haven't all day.
[—And Andersen will abruptly start coughing up the lake waters. As well as... other things. Oops. Once he's alive(?) again, however, Craftly sets him down so he can paddle to the shore by himself. Fortunately for Heather and Girge, the faceless men set them down at the same time.
Craftly looks up at the Unclean one last time, narrowing his eyes.]
Unclean, I present to you a new facilitator. May this be enough to satisfy you.
[The blue glow casting illumination to the clearing dulls, and Heather will no longer feel nausea. The faceless men will file out, the fog parting again to create a path towards the motel.
The two survivors and the new Game Master are free to linger if they wish. Andersen may need help getting back to the motel, though, with. Well. Everything.]
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[ that's the first thing she thinks, becaues, well, that's fucking disgusting. sorry andersen. she does bound over to him, though, happy to have full faculty over her body again. ]
We need to get you a bucket or something. And maybe the wheelchair.
[ it looked like this was going to go on for some time. heather looks over to girge. ]
Can you help me? Don't just stand there.
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... About the vomit, anyway. He'll still be a little shit about everything else.]
It does seem like he's going to be useless for a while... Ah, well. I'll carry him back if need be. I assume you left the wheelchair at the motel?
[But yeah, he'll reach over to pick Andersen up (lightly, at least, so as to not jostle him) unless someone feels the need to stop him.]
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[ like, literally under the weather. like, that's the god in the sky. she wouldn't like that. either way, andersen is in girge's hands now — it'd be up to him whether he wanted to take him some place like that. she'd follow regardless. not like she had anything better to do, other than give herself a nic fit or play tic tac toe by herself. ]
Well, Girge, you should know all about that. Wanna do the honors, O Captain?
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[Holding onto Andersen, he begins walking (and resigns himself to the fact that Andersen's probably going to throw up on him).]