The Amoral Island (Open to any number of M or F)

[Razor7826]

They are all gathered in the banquet hall when I enter, my three distant cousins sitting at the table, near the head but obviously reserving it for me. They all look at me, seemingly eager to hear what I have to say. Should I say it before or after they eat? It doesn't matter to me-- I'm passing on this meal, as I intend on doing until the game is finished. Everybody always springs for the poisons, it seems, or at least that's how the island legends go. No, I have my own stockpile hidden away under lock and key. Nobody can find it, let alone access it to poison it.

"Welcome, everyone, to the beginning of our fair little game. As you know, I was born and raised on this island, and as its most senior resident I have been given the responsibility of telling the tale that led us here today.

Hundreds of years ago, our mutual ancestor, Roland Witherborn, accumulated a vast fortune through means that have been lost to time. At the time of his passing, no clear heir was named, and a feud broke out between his seventeen children, each wanting a dominating share so that they could be crowned lord of his heavenly island.

However, there was a problem. The sons and daughters were born of many whores and wives from around the world, each having been raised with different customs and beliefs as to who inherits their parents wealth. Some said seniority, some said ability, while still others proposed a simple challenge.

Of all those proceedures, only one was 'fair', and that was a game. The winner would be crowned lord of the island and heir of both the family name and wealth, while the losers would remain here forever to serve the new lord's empire. Those that disagreed with those terms were allowed to leave, taking only a pittance to establish themselves on the mainland.

Rules were agreed upon, signed by all seventeen and set as the rules for any future conflicts inside the family. Those rules were written as such:

1) All slaves must follow the Master’s every command, and he or she may use any force necessary to bring the slaves in line.

2) Murder or life-threatening force against any heir of Witherborn is strictly forbidden, and is grounds for immediate banishment from the island and forfeiture of all its wealth.

3) A Master may name his successor to take over the island and its wealth. If no successor has been named at the time of his passing, then the title will become open to all living descendents of Roland Witherborn.

4) The Ritual of Domination may strip any heir of all rights and brand them a slave for life. The ritual may only be performed by another heir, and is as simple as adorning the target with a slave’s collar. If the collar remains in place for seventeen consecutive hours, the ritual is complete, removing all protections granted upon them by these sacred laws.

5) During a time of contested inheritance, an heir may claim the title of Master by presenting the Chalice of Witherborn, hidden somewhere on the island.

These are the rules, and once the clocks strike midnight hours after this feast, the games begin. We've each been given a key that will unlock the hidden entrance to where the chalice is kept, but victory can also come through utter domination.

Now, I'll let you digest the rules... as well as your food."


I sit down in the chair and wait eagerly for their respones and reactions. Midnight is still five hours away, so there is still more to the night before the game truly begins.

My special maid smiles at me from the group that serves the table, but I do not react at all. She is my secret weapon, but not my only chance of victory.