16 people left and I am one of them. Gulp. Great job Scylla

Day. . . . Is it 9 now?

Somebody wanted to toss Cyclone out the window. Only that would result in imminant flooding, so she restrained herself. Cyclone: The creature that never seemed to sleep. Somebody half-wondered if Cyclone was the murderer. Suddenly bored, she padded off to the Grand Hall for breakfast.

There was no announcement that day, and everyone went off to do what they pleased. Critic A. and Ditty found a secret library through a hidden door in the attic. "Php," Ditty said. "I'd rather be partying." Then he left. Critic was left alone in the library. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of dust and old books. There were comfortable plush chairs, perfect for sitting down and reading in, and books. Possible thousands of books, all stacked up on shelves. The shelves, as well as the books, were coated in dust. Critic wondered when the last time someone set foot in the library was. Probably not in a long time. Walking over to the shelves, leaving footprints on the faded, dusty rugs. Hand extended, she looked over the spines of the books, brushing away dust from their spines. Selecting a favorite, she sat down in a chair, sinking down into the plush. Opening the book, she began to read.

The murderer, with the practiced hand of a thief, noiselessly opened the door. Spotting Critic in her chair, it padded silently over. Critic, immersed in her book, paid no mind as the murderer tossed "Carnivorous Enhancer" spell powder over her chair. It sprouted teeth, sharp teeth, and Critic giggled, dazedly brushing them away as she flipped a page with her other hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, the chair swallowed her up, gurgling slightly. Critic, sensing something was wrong, threw down her book. Her eyes were wide with panic as she saw the murderer stand silently by, features cruel and hard. She started to scream, but a strangled squack came out instead as the chair finally finished her off. A fat tongue came out, swiping over its plush lips. Teeth poked out, and, sensing the murderer, the chair opened its maw, hopping toward it. The murderer looked panicked and hurriedly tossed "Passive Powder" spell dust on the chair. It fell still. The murderer brushed dust off its sleeve, stalking out of the library.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

R.I.C. Critic A. Rest In Chair. 

I forgot to add- Critic A.'s last thought before the chair swallowed her was, "Ditty's lucky he (?) didn't stay."

WHO'S ALIVE:

Story Spinner (Duh!)

Sir Galahad

Ditty

Elvina 

Balletandbow

Sloth

Aquina

Taxicab

Abigail

Shifting Sands

Meox

Somebody

Cyclone

Cho C.

Shadow Dragon

Fruit Basket

WHO'S DEAD:

Elsa

Puck

PieSlingerExtreme

TARDISrider

Joan B. Of Arc

Ookz

Wingnut

Critic A.

Volcano Flame 

Sorry, Novelist, but it is way too late to join. The last day to join was November 27th. Again, my apologies.

I am one of the CB'ers, still alive, if anyone wants to guess. If not, that's fine.

Sorry for not posting, a lot's been going on for me and I haven't found time yet. I probably'll make another installation later today.

At last, we begin DAY 10! Whoopee. These will only get more sad, so BRACE YOURSELF. Thank you. Now, we begin at the dawn of Day 10 (Part One). . . .

At breakfast, everyone could tell something was wrong. Seraia took Scylla's place at the head of the table, I NEED TO LEAVE NOW I PROMISE TO CONTINUE TOMORROW OR ANOTHER!!

100th POST!!!

Hey, I was really looking forward to making this thread's centennial! Whatever. As I was writing earlier. . . 

Day X Part I

At breakfast, everyone could tell that something was wrong. This may have been because Seraia took Scylla's place at the table. Her features looked worried. "CBers," she began, "Scylla is unwell today, so I will assign activities. Please don't go to the Upper West Wing, which is Scylla's quarters, if I assign the task of Wandering. Once you finish your breakfast, I will pass out number cards. Find the Reagent that has your number on its tag and once your group of three is ready to leave, the Reagent will take you to your designated activity. Now, let's begin." 

As she had promised, Seraia handed out numbers. They were 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. The groups were as it follows:

1: Abigail; Sloth; Cyclone

2: Elvina; Shifting; Taxicab

3: Cho; Sir Galahad; Aquina

4: Somebody; Shadow Dragon; Meox

5: Fruit Basket; Balletandbow; Ditty 

The groups found their whirling balls of ethereal light, the Reagents, and took off. 

*Group 1* 

Abigail, Sloth, and Cyclone followed their Reagent down several twists and turns before arriving at a door with a sign over it. The sign read, "Critter Wrangling Room- Be Careful." Be careful? Cyclone thought. Why would I do that? Abigail wondered what on Earth "Critter Wrangling" was. And Sloth just contentedly chomped on a piece of. . . Something. With no further delay, the trio opened the door, stepping through the doorway. . . 

*Group 2*

While Group 1 was wrangling some critters, Group 2 was (naturally) riding sharks. Shifting, of course, was delighted. She loved shark-riding. She and her group happily began racing each other through the shark-riding corral. . . .

*Group 3*

Meanwhile, Cho, Sir G., and Aquina were writing stories. A small, lavender kitten sat upon an old desk in the UnSecret NonHidden Library. Small tendrils of mist curled off of it, and its languid gray eyes held an unknown wisdom. The kitten yawned as the three entered, exposing needle-sharp white teeth. It sat up, waiting until Group 3 had taken seats at some desks, and meowed, "My name is Leovie. Welcome to the Prismarine Writing Workshop."

*Group 4*

Somebody, Shadow Dragon, and Meox were assigned Wandering. Meox was a little uneasy, seeing as the last time she'd wandered, she witnessed Volcano Flame being killed. When she saw the sign above the door, she mewled a tiny mew. Somebody stroked her somewhat soothingly as they entered their room, which turned out to be a giant labyrinth, perfect for Wandering.

*Group 5*

Group 5's activity was Music Making. The room their Reagent led them to was large, and a window covered an entire wall, giving the CBers a view of the ocean. Sunlight dappled the room from the windows, creating a lovely pattern on its prismarine-tiled floor. The room was filled with instruments of all manner, and at the center was a grand piano. Group 5 was astonished to see Scylla playing it. "Seraia said you were sick!" Balletandbow cried. "Music is my healer, my meditation," Scylla replied absentmindedly. Her eyes were distant, gazing at something Group 5 could not see. Scylla began a sad song, a song that sang of depression so clear that the CBers could feel it themselves.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

The Story Goes On. . . Who will die now? 

Hey, Shadow Dragon- Do you think we'll get featured in the next Cricket?

That would be cool.