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@this-is-not-an-alien,

Aha! I recognize this! *cackles* The brutality…

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“We’re going to play a game.”

Malvat jerked his head upright, nearly knocking over Thunderfoot with his snout.

“It’s a rather interesting dilemma, each of you vote one person among you to die, if you fail to decide on a member you all die.”

Cocking his head to the side, Malvat studied the walls, trying to pick up where the voice came from. It was an intriguing idea – one he cataloged to use later if he decided to toy with prey.

But Malvat was a dragon, a member of the High Races, and he was not prey.

“Rule 1,” the voice continued. “You can’t pick yourself. It’s sweet but cliché, if you vote for yourself to die everyone dies.”

Made sense. At least Malvat wouldn’t have to pretend to be noble and vote himself to death. This was the best moment to get rid of his greatest threat. Although he couldn’t, if he wanted to appear friendly. Hm.

“Rule 2; the majority wins, whoever is voted to die by the majority will die and the rest will live. Rule 3; you have ten minutes to decide, if you fail to pick someone within that time period everyone dies. Rule 4; I will add rules as needed.”

Malvat nodded to himself. Quite the way to get power. His eyes roamed the walls, finally pinpointing the one the voice seemed to come from. He slowly stood, gathering his powerful muscles together.

“Rule 5; oh, and like everybody gets one irrevocable vote which counts as a vote if said outloud.”

Good to know.

Malvat narrowed his eyes at the wall, heedless of the mankind behind him. In one powerful spring he launched at the top, the part where it connected to the ceiling, and slammed through with the ease of a shooting star. Rubble tumbled around him. He landed gracefully on the opposite side, shaking his head to clear his eyes from the dust and flaring his nostrils, searching for an unknown scent.

There… a hint of mankind scent, feminine, not Jericho. It smelled of High Race. Malvat furrowed his brows and peered through the settling dust to see…

Allessio, sitting on a bed with Nithel beside him and a golden she-wolf in front. Jericho stood beside a window, watching the exchange. Brendan was nowhere to be seen.

Relaxing into a friendly posture, Malvat dipped his head to the mankind, sifting slowly through the thoughts he could hear. “I figured it was time we rejoined.” He glanced behind him, through the hole in the wall. “There is a mankind here by the name of Gavin Thunderfoot. Who is this she-wolf, and was it she who issued the command?”

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@kimlikesart @skylarynn @crazywriter @millennium (Welcome, BTW! I have a quick question: are Asnea’s thoughts guarded from a telepath?)