**I believe that is the correct tally, but I’m borrowing other people’s tallies for that.
There were several mistakes in earlier tallies that should have been corrected for by now, I don’t think anyone is objecting to the tally as it stands.**
That matches my count.
Well, I object, but I think it is, unfortunately, correct.
Thanks. I have the color pre-written no matter who dies, so it’s just copying and pasting there. Vote counts are quite a bit harder on my phone.
OK, I know this is close to end of day, especially as Astral is ending it an hour early, but I just woke up. I need more time (and coffee!) to evaluate SF’s claim. To help prevent his lynch for today:
unvote choie
vote texcat
facepalm 
*That *makes me feel upbeat about our chances.
Pshh, writing color is fun. I’ve got color for each and every one of you fully or partially written out. The GM’s gotta have fun, too!
Vote count:
TexCat 10, ShadowFacts 8, Septimus 6.
Oh, I get what you’re saying. You thought I was implying everyone was town. I can assure you, everybody gets their own death color!
Unfortunately, I have not been able to get on the computer since all this hit the fan until just a few minutes ago. I have not really had time to digest this and make an informed decision. While I feel septimus’ claim is the weakest and the most likely to be a scum cover, I can see where Shadow’s powers could be dangerous to Town if scum. That said, I am not really comfortable voting for Shadow’s lynch with the small amount of time I have had to consider his claim. Locking in my votes for septimus would not accomplish much, so I am just going to let my votes stand as they are.
Unvote septimus
Vote texcat
Vote texcat
3 minutes!
Day is now over. No further votes will be counted.
And as day turned to dusk, the people of De’endee grew weary of one particularly outspoken crackpot with far too much time on his hands.
The adventurers were pretty sure about one thing, it was going to get a lot quieter.
**Askthepizzaguy **was already at the center of town, preaching doom and despair. He was not a hard man to find. But he was a hard man. Rugged, charming, utterly brilliant in every wa… Uh, pardon me. I mean he was not a hard man to find, on account of him being an eyesore to all.
He had been busy assembling what appeared to be a great big giant wall for most of his time with these adventurers. As an outsider, he was not immediately trusted, but some folks gave him the benefit of the doubt which they later regretted.
The wall was 15 feet high and nigh impenetrable. It was made of a solid mass of endless blocks of words. And the wall was nearly complete…
“And that is why everyone in the game is a Lord of Slaughter!” he concluded, as he slid the final brick into place.
Only then did he realize that the wall had tightly encircled him. There was no escape.
The gleeful adventurers poured boiling oil into the top of the wall, and that was the end of that.
Askthepizzaguy is (mercifully) dead. He was an NPC townsperson and a big waste of time. Night begins now, ends whenever.
WTF?
That’s, umm… what?
Pizza, are you forfeiting?
Just a little joke. Pay no attention to the man eating pizza.
I think he’s making a joke. POST THE GODDAMN COLOR, ASTRAL AND STOP RUBBERNECKING
I think **Askthepizzaguy **is channeling Roger Waters
bITE ME ATPG dear Mod please continue
** slaps ATPG
Anyway, day end color:
“I just don’t think you’re taking the Lords of Slaughter very seriously.”
“WHAT?! How DARE you, sir!” An adventurer bellowed, pushing away his second helping of meat stew. He struggled to his feet, already winded.
The mayor of De’endee nervously stood his ground. “You were supposed to protect us! You gave us your word! I don’t see much defending going on. All you’ve done is bicker and kill each other while we’ve been getting picked off one by one by the Lords.”
The adventurer, a tall, muscular barbarian, unsheathed his sword a few threatening inches. Both were distracted, however, by the sudden cry of anguish echoing softly in the distance.
The entire town, adventurer and townsfolk alike, gathered around the newly-found remains of Special Ed. Under his regular clothes were the unmistakable remains of a mystic’s robe, and magical trinkets were found in his pockets.
“His body ain’t mangled… you know, ‘cept for the head. And I don’t see no writin’ in blood. Maybe a grue got him?”
Suddenly, ed’s remains exploded, showering everyone in warm spray of blood.
“Definitely them Slaughter Lords then, I reckon.”
The barbarian wiped his face. “I could care less when they were killing off them townies - no offense, mayor - but killing off adventurers? That’s unforgivable.” He turns his attention to his fellow adventurers. “Forget the ale. Forget the food. Fan out and find those bastards.”
Special Ed’s body has been recovered and identified. He was a Mystic and one of the Defenders of De’endee. He was a master of the arcane arts and could perform a variety of spells and incantations.
Weapons were sharpened, parties were organized, and adventurers scoured the countryside, looking for the Lords of Slaughter. No stone was left unturned, no house was left unsearched, and no dungeon was left uncrawled.
“What’s the kill count?” The mayor asked as the day drew to a close.
“12 goblins, 3 golems, and one bulette. No Lords of Slaughter, though.”
“Wrong.” The barbarian said, as he dragged a struggling TexCat forward. “Caught this suspicious-looking lady doing god knows what out in the old abandoned mill.”
The mayor stepped forward, lifting his glasses to peer at TexCat. “She looks innocent enough to me.”
“You’re correct.” TexCat said, serenely.
The mayor sighed. “Eh, take her to the center of town. We’ll deal with this.”
TexCat was dragged forward. The surrounding adventurers are townsfolk watched in silence.
“Have anything to say for yourself?”
“No.” TexCat smiled softly. “You will see.”
A warrior carrying a deadly-looking bow leaned in close to TexCat. “Could you, ah, maybe act out a little more? Beg for your life or something? When you’re revealed as a Lord of Slaughter, it would really make this go a lot better for the spectators. You understand.”
TexCat stared at the warrior calmly. The warrior broke his gaze, coughing nervously.
The mayor turned to the barbarian. “Are you sure? She doesn’t seem that dangerous.”
The barbarian nodded. “She’s just keeping up the act. See those robes? That haircut? I reckon she’s playin’ at being a monk.”
A hush fell over the crowd. TexCat nodded at a few faces she recognized, and then sat down. She closed her eyes.
“I’m ready.”
The barbarian nodded. “Fair enough.” And he lopped off her head.
TexCat, an NPC monk and one of the Defenders of De’endee, has been killed. Night has now fallen, and will last until July 30th at 6 pm central time.
(out of color) Looking back at that first post reminded me that I didn’t always write you guys as hedonistic rednecks. So, uh, I guess I’m sorry that that’s what I’ve turned you into. 
)