Evil afoot. Scum a stirring.
Awry. Nocturnal. Things of the night.
Vote: Adum
The figure, cloaked and hidden, grimaced. It was as he feared. He had hoped, yet hoped in vain. Resignation settling like the weight of so many turmoils set before him. His past haunting him. He felt his hand being forced, the gawking of onlookers. Why must be answer? Could the game they now found themselves in really be so simple? He wished. Wished in vain. Had they forgot? Broken this is not.
"Alas, to answer your question, would require intelligence of 'nill. For to do so would resignate my soul to the force of a modkill"
Did they take him for a fool? Had he answered this trap. Had he fallen into it. He would have died. His nemesis, Adumbrodeus, would have escaped the clutched by never directly answering, and would never have had to decipher his cipher. The riddle. For to so would send him to the depths also.
Put your faith in Adumbrodeus naught, trust me you ought.
For his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor