[right][h3][b][i][color=B100de]Master Plum[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=B100de]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=B100de][i][b]Location: [/b][/i][/color]Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left -> Floor)
[color=B100de][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] Constitution
[color=B100de][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 5 -> 3
[color=B100de]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

A tapping at his noggin, pecks sharp and rapt. Upon his forehead another wound, picked at by the flock, black feathers that surrounded his slumped over form. Passed out upon the floor, in quite the nasty heap, the visions of the murder fluttered in his daze. Black beaks, beady eyes, cawing and crowing, feasting upon his flesh as they tore skin from bone. There they stripped him of his hair, as his hands lay in Promethean chains helpless to watch them devour him alive. His silent screams, his unmoving struggle, betrayed by the company he kept. They peeled his scalp back, their scratching claws digging into his brow, revealing the porcelain calvaria. A fortress of intellect and seat of wisdom, encased in the ivory dome, bashed in by the birds trying to crack a precious egg. Over and over, they assaulted, pounding over his brow with every pulse of his telltale heart. His eye rolled back in horror to see the dark demons arm themselves with stones to strike. And there one turned and screamed: Wake Up, Wake Up!

Wake up. Wake up. A splitting headache as if someone had been tap dancing on Plum's brow. Throbbing at the temples, still lying on the floor undignified. Who had smote him so? With such impunity? Stabbed and beaten, this night was quite a night. But before his death he'd take his vengeance, a curse upon this lot and house. A taint upon these damned perverse, and may his ill spirit usher the fall. For now his wrath would wait, as his list grew longer and longer. Hatred wore itself a mask, as the pretender played, biding his time to strike. But though the front of his mind bore the thoughts of sweet reciprocity, twas the back which wondered how much bile and poison could fill this cup?