My friends, do not fear! I understand I have not told your adventure in two day's time, but I my life has been put on halt momentarily. I promise I will do the next day of your adventure ever so soon, my friends, do not worry!

Wow! TFD, this is amazing!

My, friends, do not fret, I am still very much alive! I wish for our story to be topped before I write if you do not mind. Possibly this evening I can continue? I apologize for having been gone, my friends. Do forgive me so we can continue with this wonderful day.

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Excuse me, my friends. To whomever topped that last comment, please do understand my situation. I am in a place of where posting on such a daily time as the rest of you is quite difficult, I fear. Do understand. Now, back to the story, my friends!

Day 7 ~

Lifeless, so lifeless a group once lively a rainy few suns ago. If these twenty-two never stepped foot outside their doors, stepped foot on the silent, wonderful mountain, then all would be good. Or so they say. 

Chester lays on the bed, throwing a red ball up and down aimlessly. Blood, no? Chester's broken little mind sure thinks so. The CAPTCHA rolls over, sighing, oddly not missing his CBer. How can you when a fragile mind so small was already long lost?

"Hey, are you okay?" HAB says, leaning against the wall. "We haven't seen you around recently."

Chester groans and turns away, evidently not okay.

"I take that as a no. Kid, get up and move, you'll die from lack of exercise with being so small."

"Go wy HAB."

"My bad," HAB sighs, turning and walking away. Before exiting, he stiffens, uttering a simple phrase. "Nos spes ad te."

Who in the small world speaks a dead language such as latin? Even HAB would never think of such a thing. Or so the simplistic, depressed minds all agree on believing.

"Tea time on this wonderful evening!" The Fortune of Death's voice evidently could be heard downstairs.

Chester sighs, floating off of his bed and heading downstairs.

"Such a sad day, is it not? The rain never ceases to stop these days," Stan says, appearing beside the lone CAPTCHA. "Quiet days. The Riddler has been talking in sleep so much, I have resorted to resting in the closet at night. Have you ever tried such a thing?"

"Yo cray."

"Well, I find it much more enjoyable then hearing my CBer ramble on about zombies and hurricanes."

"Yo cray," Chester repeats, shaking his head sadly.

"Well, as the all famous George Washington once sai-"

"My friends, hurry hurry! We are presented with the most terrible of good news!" TFD calls urgently.

Chester and Stan glance at each other with wide eyes, jumping down the stairs two at a time. 

In seconds, the entire remaining population of not-so-happy campers stand around the oddly cloaked The Fortune of Death. Why such a name in the first place?

"My friends, I am fearful. My senses are exploding from my toes to my nose. Are they not for you all too?"

When blank stares are returned, TFD coughs into his gloved hand, turning red, and continues.

"My bad, I forgot most people cannot sense the weather in their toes. Odd. Regardless, I feel a terrible storm is coming. One so peculiar that this mountain has not encountered since long before Mr. Le'Van himself! My friends, we must prepare. Assistants, can we have a feast?"

People break into an odd mix of emotions.

"Food?!" Elementgirl says, looking around, excited.

"At a time like this? Are you insane?!" HAB cries. "You said there is a terrible storm, Fortune."

As more people go to speak, The Fortune of Death holds up his hand for silence.

"My friends! A terribly good storm. As I said, we haven't had such a thing in centuries! It will lead to scientific discoveries, so it is something we should feast on, no? Might I mention my stomach is quite hungry."

"I... suppose it couldn't do us much harm," Ashlee whispers, still broken over the lost of her closest friends and AE.

"Fod," Chester says, grinning. "Fest fest fest!'

"Then a feast it is, my friends! Assistants?" The Fortune of Death asks as his short little assistants bring forth table after table of endless treats.

"No knives?" Elementgirl asks, backing up at the thought of Connie's death.

"That was not at all my doing, my friend! And we have plastic knives now after that incident. Please do feast!"

The table of so few feast, munching on their thoughts of endless time, and the food ever so delicately cooked.

"This is just so wonde-" Stan starts as a loud howling wind breaks outside.

"The storm is here, my friends!" TFD shouts, but something in his voice shows this is more than he expected. "We should be going. Come, come!"

Stan grabs his friend, Chester, and pushes forward in the now panicking group of people as a swirling, black tornado breaks through the dinning room.

"Oh no, not again..." Sequoia whispers, covering her eyes.

Just like that, in the flurry of panicked screams and cries, the tornado is gone. And with it, poor Stan.

"Stan, Stan!" The Riddler cries, spinning around. "Stan where are you?"

Ashlee and elementgirl rush toward their friend, whispering in worry. The Fortune of Death coughs in his black gloved hand for attention as the pouring rain breaks through the missing half of the hotel.

"My friends, this has been so sudden. The storm, the storm was-"

"Was intended to kill! You knew all about this, you, you monster! Every single day something happens and you are always at the base of it. You sacrificed Destiny for goodness sake! You monster!" Quantum cries.

"But my friends-"

"Quantum is right," Ashlee says, wiping tears from her eyes. "I thought I could trust you. This has just gone too far."

"Please, listen to me, my friends! I have no control over the weather or your fates! How was I supposed to know the tornado would ruin the hotel and steal Stan? There hasn't been one in centuries, my friends! Now please, let us sleep on the other side of the hotel tonight? For this isn't such a wonderful day anymore, I fear."

And just like that, it is over. The group of one less, a group so beyond broken, walk home, no body to bury in the Rose Maze that evening. No body to say goodbye to.

Death Toll: RIP Stan, where your body lands, no one shall ever know. For now, at least.

When death reaches our hearts so suddenly, as the tornado has stolen our dear friend, we are left broken. A storm so rare has reached our lands - on a mountain of all places imaginable - and I deeply apologize. Please do not call me a murderer, I have devoted my time to keeping you all safe and happy. And yet, my friends, I feel I have failed you. Stay strong, will you not, my friends? ~ The Fortune of Death