Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-30269240-20170923083332/@comment-30269240-20170927095926

And everyone has voted. Time to tally up the votes.

''Once again, the platforms start to move in the middle. The newly repaired screen is put there. It looks a lot harder, but you'll definitely hurt yourself if you go flying. The platform move backward, and everyone's personal platform comes to a halt. Then, Paul and Natsue's platform move forward a bit. Natsue's platform stops as Paul's platform flings him to the screen. Natsue reads her votes: Three. It is done as everyone else looks at their platform to show a zero. Evan reads Pauls votes: "Four".''

TL;DR: Paul got 4 votes, Natsue got 3, everyone else got zero.

TIME FOR PAUL TURDFACE'S EXECUTION (made by Void herself)

Execution - Stole from the wrong person

Paul smirked, his hands wrapped around an expensive gold locket. Damned rich people… their pockets were so much harder to pick nowadays. He stretched and yawned, ready to stash the thing for a while until everyone had forgotten about it.

“HELP! THIEF!”

He froze. The owner had noticed? How? He was so careful… Paul sighed. Just my luck. He broke into a dead sprint, heading for a stall nearby. Dodging mobs of angry shop owners, Paul parkoured his way up to a rooftop above the city. If he could just make it to there…!

The mob of people was really starting to try and get Paul, throwing anything and everything at him to try and make him fall into their midst. He was surprised at how vehement they were… just how important was that rich old snob?

He managed to evade most of the projectiles heading his way, but even the most skilled person cannot overcome luck. His foot, once firmly wedged into a foothold, was knocked out of place by a stray rock. Flailing wildly to regain his balance, Paul managed to grab hold of a stall’s storage box as he fell… one containing blades of all shapes and sizes. He slammed into the ground, breaking a few bones, and the swords and knives fell to the ground as well.

Right on top of him.

Sharp, excruciating agony shot through each of his limbs as the cold steel pinned him to the dirt. The mob of commoners, half-blind with rage, each grabbed one of the blades lying around and started to stab him. Again and again they plunged the blades into his body, causing him to cry out through the blood clouding his vision. As his senses finally started to go dark, he saw the man he’d stolen from calmly approaching his broken body. The upperclassman looked at him disdainfully, and pried open Paul’s hand.

The bracelet. The man took it, kicked him, and walked away prissily. The crowd slowly dispersed, and he was left to bleed to death in the middle of the same street he grew up in...