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Tolkien was honestly sick with all the deaths. And all of them seemed to happen at least partially because of a fire. But there was a new clue: the gas. How could a normal dragon have access? But he suddenly thought of the potion maker, Slitherio. Tolkien narrowed his eyes. It seemed likely to him.

Tolkien votes for Slitherio.

Snowflake got up, went outside, saw smoke. Again. Why, why couldn't she protect her clan. It was her charge, her sacred duty, and someone was ripping it apart and there, so far, had been nothing she could do to stop it.

She walked across. It was Calavera's house. She'd worked so hard to help that fae to be a good leader with her second chance at life, and she'd been a wonderful one so far. But now it was over...

As Snowflake stood, staring down at the ashes, she felt her bones ache. She was too old for this. Too old to watch her charges die one by one. Too old to have to lead a doomed clan. Too old to loose her friends. But who else was there to lead? She knew how, it had to be her.

She knew, also, that she couldn't blame this on an external attacker any longer. This was someone inside the clan. One of them had betrayed the rest and she'd been so desperate that it wasn't the case that she'd ignored it. She needed to find the killer, and for that... She'd need to organise the clan, and decide who she trusted. She knew already that it could not be Blackice, she knew her fellow guardian warrior well and besides, she was much too big, but she'd have to think about the rest...

"Someone who fits into what's left of her house, please pull Calavera's body out. We should bury her, like the rest, and then... Then we must find who is doing this. This. Must. Stop." Snowflake didn't look away from the ashes as she spoke, hardly moved at all. Two had already voted for Slitherio, it made some sense, a potion-maker would know how to make the poison gas that seemed to have been used... But then again, he was mostly interested in the colours of the potions really, and sometimes she'd wondered if he even knew what they did. Besides, the fire hardly made sense to him. The Banescales were a wildcard, and fire and destruction was in their heritage, but she wasn't one to judge an individual by the sins of the family and while Tanalah did tend to be a bit willing to raise a claw. but never without reason, and to Snowflake's knowledge the clan had never hurt Tanalah. Cloudwing was someone that even she knew little about... It was going to take time to figure this out.

She sighs and shook her head, then looked around the dragons currently present. "By the way, bring your suspicions to me, airing them publicly adds to the paranoia and we need to figure this out with clear thought, not fear." Fear had lost them their Oracle, their greatest potential ally in figuring this out, right at the start. She needed to try to keep the clan calm.

Cloudwing looks at Calavera's body helplessly and Yells:
"What the heck is the point of being a healer if everyone dies anyway! Why does this always happen to this clan!"
Cloudwing slowly walks back to their den with tail drooping and head hanging low, crying
Cloudwing then prays to the Windsinger "Please let us find out who did this before the whole clan is dead"
Cloudwing falls into a troubled sleep dreaming about death and destruction, writhing around and softly crying in their sleep.

Cloudwing votes for Blackfrost

A low hum came from the spirals voice as he sang.
”In the spring we made a boat,
Out of feathers out of bone...”

He lowered his head and closed his eyes.

”...We set fire to our homes,
Walking barefoot in the snow.”

He could hear movements around him. His moment of silent loneliness had been broken and so he no longer felt the need to stay in his spot. And anyways, there were potions to make, the calming ones having been effective lately. Among other things, of course.

”Said goodbye to you my friend,
As the fire spread...

Slitherio took off his hat, exposing his little dark head to the sun, and then returned it to its place and walked a little way off under a shady corner nearby to wait for Scourge, to be able to comfort him when he comes. He resorted to just humming, the vibrations feeling quite soothing.

Snowflake took a deep breath, trying to slow her thoughts. She needed to calm herself down, and try to get her head straight before she properly took command of the clan. And she really, really needed to think this through. Perhaps talking to a friend would help her and, well, sparring was always a good way to clear her head.

"I need to take a moment to clear my head, if anyone needs me I'll be with Blackfrost. I'll be back to oversee the burial." Having made sure the clan knew where to find her if they needed her, Snowflake turned and left the scene. She walked across the clan, looking at the still standing houses as she went. The banescales are too big, and even Tolkien would struggle on Calavera's roof, she thought as she went. It must be someone smaller... Not Slitherio, he couldn't do this... But, why is Cloudwing voting against Blackfrost? And why isn't Orchid, our history keeper, writing down these events when by all rights they should go into the clan's history books?

Soon she found herself by Blackfrost's door, having walked there on autopilot with more memory of her own thoughts than her journey there. She stood there for a moment, processing that fact, then knocked on the door. "Blackfrost? Are you home?"

A loud cry cawed from above the large, cave-like den belonging to the veteran Grandmaster, signaling its presence to the visitor, and as signal to rouse its owner up from within her den. Corde, with large cyan eyes looking from above, before spreading its large, navy-colored wings and taking off to the skies, continuing making rounds within the clan's perimeters.

The large, wooden door creaked open, the exalted tactician looks she had seen better days. But who was to blame her? She was supposed to be better, yet she failed to protect three clan mates from this mystery murderer, and she will shoulder those failures to her eventual grave.

But seeing Snowflake, a trusted face and friend, an ally and a powerful combatant of her own, she gave a weary smile. "It's good to see you, friend." She croaked, "What can I do for you? Corde had already reported of... the leader's death." Her voice was hoarse, has she not taking care of herself?

She walked back a bit to clear the entryway to her den, "Please, come inside, I'm sure you're here for a reason," her tail idly swayed, she seems glad that in these short days, Snowflake was still, well, alive, "Be it for a short chat or something else. There's better place to talk than out in the open."

Snowflake nodded a greeting to Corde, then waited for Blackfrost to answer the door. When she did, it became clear to Snowflake that she was certainly not alone in taking her failure to guard the clan hard. "You've heard already, well, that's one less hard thing for me to do today at least," she said with a heavy sigh. She should probably be making sure everyone knew the leader had been killed but, honestly, most of them already knew.

"I would love to come in, thank you," she said as she entered. "Honestly, I came here simply to talk to someone I know I can trust. I... I liked Calavera, and I liked helping her. And now... This clan is my charge for sun's sake, I'm supposed to keep it safe and I'm failing, and because of someone from within it. How am I supposed to protect them from one of their own when I can't even figure out who it is?"

She sighed, and shook her head at herself. She looked at Blackfrost, then across to the kitchen. "Your throat sounded dry when you spoke, we can't very well be any use at all if we don't look after ourselves. Besides, it's easier to think with a warm drink. Should we have some tea?"

---

Due to the 3-post-vote rule, I am mechanically voting for Orchid now. Snowflake will vote in-character later on in the course of the RP.

"Make yourself at home, Snowflake." Blackfrost turned around, not before she turned her head a bit, "It seems you and I have been at a stump and at lost to who is the murderer in this clan."

She lowered her head a bit, even if her eyes were closed, ice crystals fell from her eyes like tears. She's right, she had been obsessively trying to look out for the killer she had been ignoring her health. It felt it was necessary, as if the dull ache caused by declining health would be some relief for the deaths she thought she had inadvertently caused due to her failure to protect them when they needed the most.

What good is being a master tactician when you cannot fight the enemy head on? Or even know who the enemy is?

Both she and Snowflake seemed to have the same train of thoughts. There was silence in the room. "We're going through hard times right now."

---

Blackfrost votes for Cloudwing have to vote because I'll probably forget to

Throughout the day, Tanalah was busy upgrading her lair, using her skills as an excavator to carve escape tunnels through the stone, as well as making cave-in points in the ones she already made, allowing her to collapse her lair, crushing any unwelcome visitors. Happy to be alive, Tanalah greeted the setting sun with open wings, and found a fading pillar of smoke atop Calavera's den. It didn't take long to come to the grim realization that their leader was no longer.

As a plague dragon, she could smell faint traces of soporific gas in the area. In her mind, the killer must've weaponized it. Tanalah knew this gas could ease pain by inducing a light rest, but only if used in moderation. this was enough to knock any dragon out cold, especially a Fae. Perhaps a warrior with many wounds got a hold of such gas. Perhaps an old dragon, one whose mind is sharp as ever but whose body is deteriorating. Perhaps it could be both.

Perhaps it could be Blackfrost. The guardian would certainly be strong enough to snap Latte's neck on the first night. She easily would have had access to a weapon that could make quick work of the gentle giant Lula. it would be no surprise for sleep gas to be prescribed to an old warrior like Blackfrost, a dragon who could turn anything into a weapon.

Before casting her vote though, Tanalah though of some other suspects. Scourge led the disastrous vote against poor Sirenia on the first night, and has since laid low, as if hiding something. Slitherio was a potion brewer, and although playful and innocent on the outside, he could know how to create and use other, more dangerous concoctions. And Orchid is strangely enough, not documenting any of these murders, like if he didn't have to, or if he was taking a break from recording the past to make history of his clanmates.

She froze, ignoring the squabbles of the others throwing accusations and faulty theories every which way, a lot of which targeted Cloudwing. In the end though, she trusted her instincts. They have never proven faulty yet.

Tanalah ensures nobody's looking at her as she votes for Blackfrost.

Cloudwing wakes up and walks over to Snowflake with a lone tear rolling down their cheek.
"hello Snowflake, in this tragic event of Calavera's death, you are the leader now." Says Cloudwing with sadness in their voice. "If you need anything, come see me. Also here's a warm cup of Tea, this should help with the shock"
Cloudwing places the cup of tea on a hovering saucer, which hovers about thirty centimetres away from Snowflake.
Cloudwing goes back to their den and makes a large jug of tea, which they pour into several cups which are placed onto several hovering plates, each with a note saying "Please drink, it will help calm you down. - Cloudwing"
Cloudwing then sends the plates to hover next to each of their living clanmates.
"This is all I can do, keep them calm until we find who the murderer is" they think, trying not to think about what could happen: every one of their clanmates deaths except for whoever the murderer is.