As the sun began to set on the castaways first day on the Island, a vivid orange haze filled the sky. Heidar sat looking out towards the sunset. A small tear blossomed at the corner of his eye and ran down his cheek. He missed his wife, and now he may never see her again. The thought caused more tears to erupt. A bell rang behind him. During the day Dom and Skyla had come across the ships bell washed up down the coast. They had hung it crudely from the mast where the captains body had been displayed that morning. Opti’s body had been dumped in the mass grave with the rest of the unlucky crewmembers who had not survived Pisstheleagues sinking. Heidar cuffed away his tears and rose to join the rest of the crew at the bell. Hornpete stood in the centre of the group, eyes flicking rapidly from one survivor to the next. ‘Come on guys, I was just testing the water,’ he whined. ‘I was just trying to get the killer to raise his head above the parapet.’ ‘Quiet fool!’ shouted BigRossLittleRoss. ‘You have only yourself to blame, and now you pay the price.’ He hefted a chunk of wood from the wreckage, and the other survivors followed suit. They began to tighten the circle. Hornpete screeched and charged for one of the shrinking gaps, but WfcSinatra swung his makeshift club at Hornpete’s knees and he collapsed to the ground with a low groan. The others gathered round and started beating their clubs down onto Hornpete’s body. Mercifully his screams only lasted a short while, and before long the islanders clubs flicked drops of blood and brain matter into the air. After a frenzied couple of minutes, the survivors all stopped out of breath and staring at their handiwork. Hornpete was dead…..hornpete was GOOD. NIGHTTIME PLAYERS PLEASE SEND ME YOUR SELECTIONS FOR THE EVENING PHASE.