Of course it was a dark and stormy night. Of course. It would be just like the old man to summon you all here on a miserable night. Who held a black tie affair on a night that howled and screamed? Even after death he was still a miserable piece of work. But the letter you’d received promised riches untold, so attendance was a must; besides, for some of you, confirmation the hateful old b*****d was dead would be enough.
You arrived quietly, some in groups, some alone. You see faces you recognize from holiday parties and galas, but gone are the ivory smiles and flashy dresses. No, tonight’s is a grim affair. The old man summoned you here from beyond the grave- or, if you’re not inclined to poetics, his lawyer summoned you here for the reading of the will. Old Moneybags- really, what kind of parents name their child Moneybags?- had died after a short, brutal illness, and tonight you would find out just how much you stood to gain from his demise. It was a horrible way to think about him, but then again, he was a horrible stallion. Gruff in person and ruthless in business, it had always seemed that money was the only thing he cared about. It was whispered that he’d brokered a stock deal during his first wife’s funeral, and the only untruth to these rumors tended to be the amount it had been for. As you enter the house, the sky shakes with thunder; the storm is only getting worse. You grimace, for you know what’s going to happen. The roads to this rural retreat are set in low valleys; on nights like this, they flood. You will probably be spending the night here, and that does not comfort you.
The butler and the housekeeper, adorned in black crepe, quietly ushered you into the dining room. The massive oak table was covered in a black cloth, with somber lilies in a mercury glass bowl in the center.
The lawyer peered over the rims of her glasses and quietly hemmed at you all. The room settled in and all eyes turned to the humorless mare as she began to read. She unsealed the envelope, done up in red wax, and removed a sheet of thick paper, which she began to read. She furrowed her brow. “This… this isn’t the will I drafted. How did this get in here? The envelope was sealed… but… n-no…” Her eyes go wide as she reads out the letter with a shaky voice.
“One of you murdered me. That’s right, it was a murder. I’ve changed my will- who ever finds my murderer and brings them to justice gets it all. Everything. The business empire, the house, the money, everything with the exception of the funds I leave to my retainers. Should nobody succeed, nobody gets the money.“ The lawyer’s face blanches as she considers the implications of handing Moneybags’s empire over to one of his grandchildren. “Everything you need to find the killer and how they did it is right here in this house and- oh my god he was serious, he was seriously murdered how did this even get here I need to sit down.” The lawyer slumps in a chair. One of the house staff, a mare with a lush burgundy coat and deep purple curls threatening to escape their tightly bound bun, silently stepped from the room. As the lawyer scanned the paper, the sommelier returned, a generous glass of white wine levitated before her wrapped in a cloud of sparkly lavender magic. The lawyer looked up from the will, gratefully taking the wine into her own magical field. “Thank you, Wine About It,” she said, sipping the glass. “A restorative was… necessary.”
“It’s always time for wine,” the wine steward says, dipping a small curtsey before returning to the rest of the staff. The lawyer rubs her temples as she continues to read.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, placing the paper down with a delicate motion- oh, she was furious. “Nobody move. I’m calling the police.” An impossibly slim black cell phone was produced from a hidden pocket; she jabbed at it, increasingly frustrated. “Of course. Of course there’s no cell service. Rank and File, can you fetch me the landline?”
“I’m afraid not, marm,” drawls the butler, a tall stallion with a stringy blonde mane. “Telephone service is down. The landlines are out. So is the main power; the house is currently running on a backup generator, and that's not even powering most of the house. We have lights here and in the kitchen and a little light everywhere else. The elevator is out, too. Very sorry, marm.” His wan smile suggests that perhaps he isn’t sorry.
“Perhaps we should let them search the house,” purrs the maid, a mare whose mane resembles nothing quite so much as a feather duster. “After all, we have nothing to hide.”
The lawyer rolls her eyes, clearly not believing the maid for a second. “Fine, Fuchsia. Go, search the house. It’s not like anybody can leave.” The force of her voice makes you a bit concerned- but not as concerned as spending the night in this creepy old house will.
As the house staff files out, the lawyer draws you close before you disperse. “And be careful. This house has secrets. If I’ve learned anything in my tenure as Moneybags’s lawyer, it’s that I don’t know all of them. Neither do any of the staff. Neither did he, from the look of things. None of the house staff have apparently ever been down to the basement. There’s boarded up doors, windows that look out on blank walls, stairs that go nowhere, an east wing that's structurally unsound. If the murderer knows how to use the house to its fullest... just be careful."
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 9:37 am
Turn the First
The group disperses and begins to search the area. Some leave the dining room, while others stay close by. Rumors and fears fly in hushed whispers. The halls are dark; cell phones and a few flashlights come out. Unicorns use their horns for light, but it is still quite dim and the house is huge. You can either search this room or move to of the adjoining rooms- or talk to the housekeeper, the butler, or the lawyer.
The dining room is a long room with a vast wooden table; there is a smaller buffet with silverware and china at the end closest to the front of the house, leaving the far entrance clear for serving. Through the far door is the kitchen, which is extremely streamlined and modern. Every culinary convenience is here in gleaming stainless steel. The pantry is the size of a studio apartment; there are three refrigerators. A spiral staircase leads down to the wine cave- yes, it is an actual cave, albeit not a natural one. Wine About It stands in front of the stairs to the wine cave, her hooves crossed. Her eyes are slightly glazed; she seems to be a little more tipsy than perhaps appropriate- but then again, she did just basically lose her job.
Towards the front of the house is the parlor. A thick layer of dust in this little-used room says something important about Moneybags’s social life. Sturdy canvas dust-covers protect delicate settees and chaise lounges; a buffet along the wall displays two ornate ceramic vases. A few framed portraits on the walls show Moneybags’s children growing up. None of the pictures look particularly happy.
The dining room and parlor open out onto the Great Room, which is a two-story expanse crossed by a catwalk up above. By the foyer is the elevator cage; it sits silent and even if you press the button, nothing happens. The great room itself has a sleek wooden floor and is sparsely furnished; there is a grand piano in one corner and some discreet clusters of chairs and side tables. One of the side tables has an open book on it, but the others are clean and have been dusted recently. This room was used for receptions and dancing from time to time; certainly not the most intimate of places. In the dim light you can make out a few other rooms across the way, but you aren't close enough to tell what they are. You aren't sure how long the great room continues towards the back of the house; it's a very big room.
Which is your choice? A: Talk to [NPC] [Specify which- Habeus Corpses, Rank and File, Fuchsia Fussbudget, Wine About It] B: Search Parlor C: Search Kitchen D: Search Great Room E: Search Dining Room
zippedsiren
Astraea Pandora
Magician Arcana
frozen_flames06
Luafien
StarieMichie
purplerosesbeauty
Atmadja
Yunonia
FrostyPeaches
cursedandwandering
Yushika
Kitty Sprightt
Huni Pi
LOLLI qAq
It still amuses me that LaLo is playing a sweet little boy.
EchoLimaFoxtrot
thyPOPE
Biblioburro
Chrystali
Aric Val
Fea Line
Tristam Lockhart
shortcutt
catmagick
VerityHattress
Ruriska
~Twilight...Angel~
Byagane319
elvyralani
Maxx D
Jun D
Scaramouche Fandango Crew
Big Wife
Offline
StarieMichie
Unicorn
Offline
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 10:14 am
TACO wasn't sure what Judge Fudge would do, but he was POSITIVE what TACO would do.
The dashing stallion made his way over to talk to Wine About It.
1) She was drunk. 2) There was a wine cave behind her.
There was no losing in this situation.
"Sorry babe," he said with a devious twinkle in his eye, "you've been found guilty....
OF BREAKING MY HEART."
Sex court was about to be in session.
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 10:25 am
D- Search the great room.
Quarter Mane's face was filled with glee as he reclined against a wall decked out in furs (faux Paws would inform anyone who asked). A murderer? His eyes gleamed. What bigger game to hunt than a criminal? And who better to track down such prey than himself? A shiver of excitement ran through him as he began to eye the group. What made it all the better as it wouldn't so easy as tracking a wild animal would. Wild beasts didn't try to cover up their foot prints in the dirt. However, something with greater intelligence... Well, that was a different story.
Licking his lips the stallion made his way through the parlor into the great room. He sniffed at the tables, running a hoof over them and frowning at just how clean they were. What he wanted to find was a speck of mess that would point him in the direction of what he was hunting, but instead he came upon a book.
His blues eyes peered down at the words on the pages, curious as a giggle escaped him.
Spear Mint shook himself, visibly getting in to the role of Colonel Whizbang. This could be fun, too bad he now had to play a spineless snipe...
The Colonel squinted at the group, his beady eyes taking in their expressions. It came as no surprise that no one was visibly upset that he could see. So, Moneybags hadn't passed away as 'peacefully' as he thought. Granted, he wouldn't have been surprised if this was all just a stunt for one last hurrah in passing. Leave it to Moneybags to do that.
After the statement was done, he could not help the glint that came in to his eyes. He could have is all! Moneybags was always reminding him about how much more successful he was... well not was the time for the Colonel. He could show them all! He would crack this case and have everything - and why shouldn't he? He had to live with Moneybags.
With a determined step, he went to search the Great Room. Afterall, when he solved the case, this whole house would wind up as his anyways.
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 11:12 am
La Llorona was more than a little peeved by what this was turning out to be. It was clear that her character was not the killer (a shame, she thought, as she was the natural choice) and worse he was ... boring.
She sneered at TACO's antics with the sommelier. She'd initially wanted to talk to Wine About It herself, but not if it meant being around the rock star and his libido. So instead she moved into the parlor.
The pictures on the wall made her smile a little as there was little she liked more than miserable children, but it was the two ornate vases on the buffet that caught her attention. I wonder what could be hiding in those, she thought to herself as she peered over the rim of one.
Barley squared her shoulders a bit more, trying to filled out a motorist jacket that was obviously made for the bulk of someone closer to her brother's then hers.She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Brass Tacks frowned, it had been bad enough getting caught in the rain and being force into his employer's home for the night, but find out that he also gone and gotten himself killed, not to mention the 'game' being played from beyond the grave. Not exactly the event that wanted to follow his engagement to his lovely and beautiful fiance.
Tapping a hoof against his chin, He had to admit that gaining the money and business would come a long way to keeping his darling in comfort and goot health, he thought for a long moment on this line, such as a good husband-to-be should, before (after a quick check on how his fiance was holding up) going to the kitchen. He began looking through the fridges, maybe the killer was dumb enough to have gotten a snack.
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 11:29 am
Haute Couture, upon being invited to play a role in a murder mystery game, had, naturally, decided to pull out all the stops in getting into character. He studied the brief blurb he had been given rigorously; he spent hours at a time getting into his character's mind (much to his parents' dismay); and, of course, he spent a significant amount of time in making a costume to wear, even going so far as to have his mother help him bleach and dye his tail. When the time came for him to play his role, he was ready. He had truly become...
Cutie Honey slipped around her father and sailed into the house like a mare on a mission. Plowing through the crowd like it wasn't even there - or like everyone in it were just extras in the narrative of her glamorous life (which, frankly, they were) - she planted herself right at the front of the crowd to listen to the lawyer. As she read on, and it became apparent that she had been hoodwinked, Cutie's face grew darker and darker. Not so much at the idea of her grandfather being murdered - she could understand why someone would want to kill him - as at the lawyer's incompetence. As the rest of the guests wandered off to hint for clues, as if they actually stood any chance of sniffing out the murderer, Cutie flapped up onto the table and stomped forward to confront the lawyer, Habeus Corpses (A).
"What kind of incompetent lawyer are you?" she all but shrieked, glowering ferociously. "Aren't you supposed to be in charge of this will stuff? How could you let that old dingbat hoodwink you like this?! And is this even a real will? I can't imagine anyone who actually knows what they're doing taking this seriously."
Lavender Lemon was excited to start her adventure as the obviously best character in a murder mystery, the grande dame. She'd tried hard to work on her "old lady" voice, and even dressed for the occasion, tying her hair up in an elegant bun and putting on a hat and pearls. Now she was surely grande!
Diamante was of course, greatly upset. Old Moneybags was one of her longest and dearest friends, and his death was a shock. She dabbed at her face with a handkerchief, blotting away her any welling tears. She had to be elegant and keep face. She'd find his murderer at all costs! Even if at times she'd thought he had deserved it for the way he conducted himself, and tarnished her own reputation.
She decided to make her way into the dining room, and check out the silverware and china. Perhaps the murderer had messed around and left something behind. Diamante nosed around and admired the china. She and her first husband had had many lovely pieces, and he took many of her favorites in the divorce.
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 12:08 pm
Tough Talker listened to the intro and wondered so many things about the plot. Like, how could a man who was murdered write down he was murdered? If he knew he was being murdered, then why didn't he tell the police so they could stop it? Sighing, he knew that his character wouldn't ask these things.
Stickyfingers stared at the older adults with clear disdain, but tempered it by staring at the ground. He made off, his horn lighting the way, into the Great Room. Surely there would be something good here. It was named GREAT after all.
He found himself attracted to the elevator, though it was broken. Could a little unicorn magic make it work again? He decided to inspect the elevator.
Love's Lemma was not really sure what she was doing. She hadn't really known she was supposed to wear a costume (and the phonies playing her son and daughter were both non-normative and intimidating - at least her wife guy seemed pretty normal!), and had instead brought a saddlebag full of Detective Tools, like a magnifying glass, a flashlight, cool sunglasses, a deerstalker hat, and...
...okay, okay, so she'd bought a detective kit from a store.
Still! She was going to solve this thing and make Nina proud! Except, uh, she'd been given a character to play, too. Riiight. Well, how would Pennybags react to his dad being dead? How would Lemma react to - haha, no. Nina and Pucker were both more like cool old phony friends than parents. Ahh, maybe this needed a different approach - Pennybags would be far more concerned that the Moneybags fortune might go to one of the gathered outsiders, instead of him or maybe (maybe) his son. Actually, he wasn't even sure that some of these people knew his dad. Best to stick to family, maybe? And then try to identify the murderer, like a responsible adult phony. "C-cutie? Moneypenny?"
They'd both already wandered off, which was maybe as to be expected, when you had a wife like Clementine. "Clem," he called to his wife, whose player was much older than him. "I'll check the great room." She was free to come with him or not - he figured they kind of stood to inherit together, anyway. Even if she'd...probably...get most of the say over how the money was spent. He shook his head and trotted anxiously into the great room. Well, it didn't matter.
He gave a glance over the room and narrowed his eyes at the elevator cage. He pressed the button repeatedly, and then examined the area around it with a growing sense of worry. Was it stuck? Why wasn't the elevator coming? He remembered it being functional; Moneybags wouldn't have stood for less in his own home. Was there any sort of sticking mechanism on the doors?
Or, perhaps...had it happened here? Wait, no. Hethought back to the opening dialogue. The power was out. Maybe he should've stayed in the dining room. Or maybe he should ask one of the staff, who did still live here. They'd know for sure, right? Or at least they'd have known where to start. He pulled out his notepad and began making quick note of the matter. He really did need to head back to the dining room, didn't he? But there were still things to examine in this room, and he'd already made his way over. Take that piano over there. He sauntered over, to see whether it'd been in use recently or whether something had been dropped in its vicinity - under the legs, in the hood? You never did know.
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 3:05 pm
Many More was loving this. It was to be his absolute best performance, which was difficult, because every night he gave his very best performance. He was a magnificent star, but lately felt he had been typecast as the gallant, handsome, masculine Adonis of birthday song. Now, this role-- this was a role he could sink his teeth into. He dotted a beauty mark under his eye, stolen--was handsomely awarded-- a long, lace front wig, a pillbox hat and veil, and a long, slinking black dress that made his masculine muscular haunches smooth, feminine and curvaceous. He was absolutely not wearing spanx. He was wearing triple spanx.
Clementine was beside herself with fury. She shook, her hooves immediately searching her ample, displayed cleavage (HOW??) for a cigarette that would not be found. Her future! Cutie Honey's future! They were ill-used, they were all discomposed and inconvenienced in the worst way. She glared mightily at everyone, but achieving no gentlemanly offer of assistance or help, she let out a great, heaving sob and, entirely ignoring her children and husband, made her way to Fuschia Fussbudget
"FUSCHIA," she cried in a voice that was absolutely not an overwrought falsetto, "How could this happen? How could someone be so cruel? What have you seen, my faithful Fussie-- was he mad? He must have gone mad to forget his deserving family in such a shocking way. Oh! I need smelling salts."
Honeysuckle wore a nice suit and tie to hopefully look the part of a con man. Did conmen wear such things? He was rather confused. The laid back draft hoped he was doing this right. After listening to the lawyer speak he grew disquiet about the situation. But then he remembered it was a game and he was suppose to be trying to get money or something from this.
He stood, tossing his mane over shoulder then going over to his nephew, Haute as he acted the part....of a small girl. He spoke gentle. "Now now, Moneybags was known for his ah....erratic and unpredictable behavior little cousin. More than one the sly old fox has hoodwinked us all." He nodded sagely. "If this is to be resolved it must be handled properly. And if this needs to be handled properly perhaps a personal touch is necessary."
He looked to the lawyer, "My good lady. Do tell me where did you and Moneybags pen this will? Was it here in the home perhaps? Tis always best to start at the beginning of the journey."
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 3:27 pm
Sea Whip nay(neigh?) Cloak and Dagger stood a little ways away from the rest, trying to gather her bearing and don the mantle of the femme fatale who smarmed her way to the top. Which was going to be a problem because while the unicorn understood the sentence and the words, she really had no clue about the mechanics behind the character. She mused Cloak and Dagger would probably try to be another phony's hoof-candy but Whip wouldn't know the first thing to say or do or who to approach.
All the same, she attempted what she hoped was a seductive stride, except it made her look like she'd had one too many drinks instead. This could stand to be an interesting experience, she thought, smiling coyly (only instead of coy read: constipated) at Rank and File. "How long have you worked for Moneybags? I don't remember seeing your-" she tried for a positive appropriate adjective "-impressive build before. And how long ago did the power go out?" Admittedly that last question was something Sea Whip wanted to know.
Penny was amused that her character's name was the same as her own, and so she resolved to put as much life into Penny Earned as possible. And also take copious amounts of notes for future story ideas. With the help of her grandmothers, she pulled together proper mourning outfit for her delicate frame; a long, wispy black skirt around her waist, a large black shawl with a lacey fringe was pinned in place by a large broach with the silhouette of a stallion and finally a small black box hat with a very sheer black veil that fell to the bridge of her nose.
While it should have been a terrible shock to hear the word "murder" in relation to her father's death, Penny was not at all surprised. Saddened, but not surprised. Daddy had many phony who hated him, despised him behind their pearly grins and honeyed words. She'd tried to tell him but he'd just put her off, reassuring his daughter that she was worried for nothing and that he was well aware of the snakes in his den. And now some viper had struck, now Daddy was gone, and now she was alone in the nest of snakes.
Heading into the lounge, she brooded about the group dispersing into the house. Her hooves tracked marks in the dusty rug as she glided in and looked around, becoming lost in old memories in the room. She paused at the portraits of her and her brother, a tiny smile playing on her lips. Daddy might have never been a warm, openly loving father, but the fact that hers and Pennybag's pictures still hung on the walls (coated in dust, but still hung up) spoke to a fondness for his children he never expressed. At least that how she chose to see it. After taking a few moment to peek behind several of the portraits, she gently wiped some of the dust away from a picture of herself as a foal, posing at the piano she used to take lessons on. She hated that piano.
A shuffling noise caught her attention and she turned, spying Moneypenny near the vases. Penny glared. If there was one snake in the bunch that was the most likely the killer, it was Moneypenny's mother; Clementine. Penny hated that mare with the passion of a thousand suns, and anyone that was half of Clementine wasn't to be trusted. She approached her nephew.
"Please do not touch those." she said stiffly, shooing his hoof away.
Reply
