Votes are tallied, and lines are cast. Fabian stands in the crowd as the nudge him toward the rails. The crowd seems divided, but there is limited voice of resistance. A hand from sea of bodies pushes fabian into the far more literal zee. The deck is silent as he slips into the water. There are no bubbles, no signs of life from the moment he hits the water. The crowd uneasily shuffles about, before returning to their quarters for the night. No one feels any safer, and indeed, no one is. Maybe it was fate, maybe fabian was meant to die. Or maybe this whole ship will sink to the bottom of the zee. Sleep will not come easy tonight.
Fabian has died. They were a
Loyal Zailor and Maybe’s Rival: (EoR) Learn who targeted a target player, and who the player targeted.
Night one has begun, and will end when the previous round was designated to end (in respect to time)