The chaotic noise of clashing drums that we had come to expect, but could never get used to, played accompaniment to the girl's screams - the girl who had dressed as Madam Lasiren. Her panicked shrieks fill the space and the rara translates the sound into melody. We blindly tumbled and scrabbled, needing to escape whatever she had encountered. And then the keen, logical thought peirced the tempest - get to the light.
How long we were assailed by the noise and chaos we didn't know. After perhaps an eternity the earth reasserted itself and the terror of the darkness that blanketed even the moon and stars was just the memory of a dream. In reality, we discovered Madam Lasiren's body, tossed and broken, but with no clear mark of death upon it.
We also found the Lasetkòd, wrenched, twisted. Its rope was discarded in the brush, drenched in gore. We found splashes of blood all about the grove; many of us had blood on our masks and clothes.
The Lasetkòd, its horned mask ripped from its head, had been lashed so savagely with its own rope that its skin was drawn away in sheets. The blood was unbelievable, and the savagery was inhuman, in brute force, if not in style.
RedFireGaming is eliminated. He was Marie Luban, Haitian Tracker.
It is now the fifth voting phase.