Werewolf III: The Case of Garnavon Hall

[Tanuchan]

OOC: Welcome to Werewolf III :wizzie:

 

Our players are:

 

Katzaniel - Katharine Horton, retired schoolteacher

MeThinksUFoolish - Wetherby Danielson, Sir Cecil Garnavon's butler

Vahktang - Mr. Vahktang, Georgian gentleman on tour of the Continent

X-Sabre - George Worthington, tavern owner

Degenero Angelus - Sir Alfred Peterson, rich old Knight and Nobleman

Tamaranis - James Doyle, stableboy at Garnavon Hall

Ozymandias - Marcus Horton, a butcher (Katharine's son)

Nave - John Norfolk, merchant

Lady Celes Crusader - Elisabeth Christie, well-known socialite

Matteo - Gavin Doyle, Philosophy major with minor in English

DeanTheAdequate - Vincent Cuthbert, doctor of Chemistry

Elwen - Lady Emily Galanodel, unconventional teenage noblewoman

Eyremon - Edwyn Cooper, American soldier/merc just back from Africa

Gnarlitch - Wil, jack o' all trades

 

Please, notice the following:

 

* Wolfsbane: the Baner can bane himself if s/he so chooses. Baning the wolves' chosen target results in no killing. Baning a wolf stops this wolf from killing; if there's a packmate, then s/he is entitled a saving throw to escape wolfsbane (50% chance of killing the intended target).

 

* Werewolves: exceptionally, they'll be assassins and not actual werewolves

 

* PMs: no PM allowed among villagers, seer, and baner. The wolves can PM freely to choose target and plan strategies.

 

* Day phase: roleplay at will and cast your lynching vote (please add an OOC line making your vote clear).

 

* Night phase: roleplay at will, but no accusations whatsoever.

 

* Ghosts (dead players): I'm allowing ghosts to post IC, if they want to. However, they may not interfere with the game, nor give any opinion that may influence the "living". They cannot interact with the living, although they can interact among themselves if they wish.

 

* Ties and lack of necessary votes/PMs may be handled by the mod (me ) rolling dice.

 

* OOC thread: I'll be using Dean's "Werewolf Q+A" thread for OOC questions/discussions. Feel free to post there but remember that wolves are on the prowl...

 

* If you cannot post for any period of time, you can PM or e-mail me your vote/instructions and I'll post it when appropriate. If something happens and you have to bow out early from the game, please PM me and I'll see to it.

 

 

PM's are being sent now.

 

Game officially starts next post!

Edited March 8, 2004 by Tanuchan

[Tanuchan]

IC:

 

The village spreads in a area of moors and downs, not different from what happens in so many regions of the countryside. What makes this one somewhat different is the presence of Garnavon Hall, the home of the prestigious Garnavon family. Sir Cecil Garnavon, the head of the family, is a gentleman in his fifties, a widower of open countenance, highly esteemed by the people of the region. His mansion dominates a low hill, around which the core of the village settles.

 

Now it's a time of great joy for Sir Garnavon and, as such, for the village. Richard Garnavon, Cecil's only son, is marrying Lady Marise Kerrins, and many people were invited for the celebration. Sir Garnavon opens his house to the guests and to his neighbors as well. Most of the villagers who live or work near Garnavon Hall have good relationships with the family, so all were invited to the marriage celebration.

 

To arrive in the village, guests can descend at a wayside train station, where cabs and wagonettes wait to take them to Garnavon Hall. The trip is short, passing through pastures and houses. The moors are barely visible beyond them, and on the other side of the road the downs dominate the landscape.

 

OOC: Feel free to RP until next post, which will be an NPC kill. It should be up in about 36 hours from the time stamp of this post (so, Tuesday morning).

Edited March 9, 2004 by Tanuchan

[Eyremon]

Wow that was a fun ride. I haven't had that kinda fun since I rode with Teddy up St. Johnnies hill. Did Ya'll know that trains kept going after they jump the tracks but it is ahelleva lot more bumpy.

 

Hey Wil Vinnie. How are y'all doin' ya know this is my first big ol' par'tay since coming into Uncles Georges money. Does this kinda shindig happen often around 'ere or only on special occasions?

[Lady Celes Crusader]

Elisabeth Christie is sitting in her wagonette, hearing the monotone noise the horses makes. She is dressed in the latest victorian fashion. Her long auburn hair are all tied up in a sophisticated bun, while her dress is an elegant beige velvet gown with emerald ribbon highlight. While her dress bares her shoulder, her neck is hidden underneath a jewel made with a series of emerald ribbon and pearl, giving her a sophisticated air. Mrs Christie is the object of many rumors since the day she married the famous elderly jeweler Archibald Christie. She is rumored to married the man only to get a hold of his fortune while sleeping in some young men's bed in the same time. Her reputation as a solid poker player and her drinking habits are known of everyone. While a lot of people frown upon her because of her light sense of moral, her hedonism and her good heart makes her well liked as well. Elisabeth's wagonette arrived at destination. Valets help her to get off to the ground and carries her gifts, one for bride, another for the groom and one for the host and the lady's luggages.

 

- Finally I arrived. I'm so excited to attend at this wedding.

[Gnarlitch]

Er, hey Ed. Long time no see. I don' get invitd ta these parties, ya know. Not fer "my kind" o' people. Ahm jus' 'ere ta fix the loo an' ta help wi' the decorations. But thet don' mean I won' be sneakin' a nip now an' then! :yuiwink2:

[DeanTheAdequate]

*Vincent Steps out of the carrage and begins loosening his gloves*

 

Well if this won't be a grand affair. I have been in the old basement for so long I'd think the whole world had four walls.

 

And I'll have to make sure to thank our host. A more comfortable ride I couldn't have hoped for.

[Matteo]

A rather lithe gentleman steps from the stagecoach tugging at the base of his coat in a distracted attempt to straighten the stresses and creases of seated travel. As he reaches the cobblestone walk, he pauses for a moment, aware that his every move from this step onward, and indeed his last on exiting the carriage, would be scrutinized by both the socially and financially wealthy patrons of this estate. It is with this in mind that his next few conscious steps are made.

 

"Ah, the wonders of the countryside." His interest is superficial at best and is voiced merely upon catching a passing wind from the stables.

 

Minding the tails of his coat, he stoops to buff the toe of his right shoe with a handkerchief before proceeding to help the remaining ladies from the now relatively empty carriage.

 

"Mind your step M'Lady, the cobbles are not made for ease of travel with such heals as those." His eyes sweep the length of the lady finishing with her footwear; attempting a dashing smile, his gaze returns to her face.

 

'I must travail to keep from the stables.' He reminds himself, 'I only hope that half-whit brother of mine keeps to himself.'

Edited March 8, 2004 by Matteo

[Nave]

Ah my chaps. It is good to see you all again. It's been awhile since I've been back in these parts.

 

How's everyone faring?

[Vahktang]

Mr. Vahktang steps down from the carriage and breathes in the country air.

He is a mature man, past his majority and outfitted in good conservate clothing, not the latest fashions yet neither worn nor tired.

And though the suit is tailored for him, he does not suit the suit well. It seems almost ill fitting as if he is still not used to these types of clothing or that there is a slight disablility of the body that he has long experience in concealing.

But his breeding and manner comes through and though he sometimes seems ill at ease he quickly puts his companions and acquaintices at ease, despite his slight accent.

"Ah, good for the freshness," he says, turning to his carriage mates.

While the servents bring down his bags he looks around the estate entrence, marvelling at what he's always read but never seen: a genuine english country estate.

Fortune had smiled upon him when he made the friends he did and finally got an invitation out here.

He could feel his education broadening just standing here.

And speaking of such, he espies a lady talking to a friend at the foyer, and is taken.

He calls over his servent, David, an orientel of friendly mien.

"That lady there, David," he said, indicating

"The most beautiful one in beige and green with the red hair?"

"Yes. You know me well. Find out her name and who she is travelling with."

"And if she is attached?"

"Well, yes. I'll send a note later today asking if I can call on her."

"You know all my relatives found their wives at their wedding."

"Of course they did. You people practice arranged marriages."

"Well, yes, there is that."

"Go."

"Yes. Master."

 

 

More later,

 

Vahktang

[Katzaniel]

Katherine Horton carefully descended the front steps of her modest little house. The big day was coming quickly upon them all, and she had at least one person to meet at the train station today. Today was the last time the train passed by the village before the day of little Richard's wedding. It was hard to think of him as being grown up now, she'd known him well as a child. He loved mischief but he'd always put effort into his schoolwork. A good boy. Anyway, the last guests were arriving in the village today, there would be little other chance to come.

 

Thus, Katherine would find out today whether Charles would bother to come. Marcus would be here, with or without his wife and two sons, but Charles had not sent word at all. Ever since he'd run off with the girl Rachael at eighteen, Charles had barely bothered to visit. But, like everyone in the town, he'd been friends with the Garnavon family since his childhood - surely he would come.

 

Katherine picked her way down to the station, feeling acutely the pain in her back. She was getting older. It would be wonderful if she could see Charles again before she died. She shook her head. No use thinking about it. She would see Marcus, Marcus always came when she needed him, and hopefully he would be able to bring his family. She shouldn't fool herself that there'd be a chance Charles would come too.

 

The elderly woman reached the station and sat down on a bench to wait. This would be a good week for all of them. Best to focus on that. One of the best times this village had seen in a long time.

[Degenero Angelus]

"Eh, bloody 'ell. Can' get a' damned thing done in thi' place." The old Sir Alfred Peterson steps out of his carriage into the Courtyard of Sir Garnavon's manor.

 

"Sorry I'm late, ma frien's, i's bee' a long ride, I'm 'fraid," he looks around blankly and puts his hands in his coat pockets, "can we ge' on wit this? I'm a' ol' man, ya know, I got places t' be."

[Savage Dragon]

Wetherby was there, of course, to greet guests as they came. He took care of all the luggage and delt kindly with his master's guests. They hardly seemed to notice him, for he kept quite. In fact he surprised a number of the guests with his harsh coughs. He claimed he had caught a slight cold and they gave apologies without meaning them. He was always tired it seemed, for they turned often to find him yawning, but he kept his spirits up all the same.

 

He smiled at himself, they were so busy with each other they had not notice the faces he was making at them behind they're backs or the names he called them hidden by a cough. Quite childish, yes, but it relieved stress, something he had a lot of with this job. Better childish games than a kitchen knife in the middle of the night. And so it went on, he had an uneasy feeling that his games did not go unnoticed but no one said anything. Perhaps they didn't care

[Elwen]

((OOC: I assume that a “Bath” chair is the early form of a wheelchair. I read the term in “The General”, by C.S. Forrester, and took the meaning from context. Correct me if I’m wrong.))

 

 

The small noblewoman arranges her long white skirts with one graceful hand as she sits straight in her Bath chair, in the courtyard of the manor, a book closed in her lap. Long, moon-pale hair frames a delicate, beautiful face: Lady Emily Galanodel is known for her beauty, and her “face of flowers”. Bright, almond-shaped, slightly slanted eyes-her eyes are mismatched, the left one amber, and the other violet-intently regard the world around her.

 

Traveling, whether by train, stagecoach, carriage, or other conveyance, was always a great bother-even for such an occasion as this-, considering that she had been unable to walk for some years now. But Emily counted her blessings, for while she had survived the accident, minus the use of her legs, her parents hadn’t been so lucky. A little inconvenience was worth her life.

 

Quietly, she begins to hum a soft ballad under her breath.

 

Yes, this would be an event to remember.

[Ozymandias]

Wetherby turned his gaze from another randomly chosen point outside the window to greet the next guest. He frowned inwardly for a moment, trying to place such a plain man after such illustrious and illustriously attired folk.

 

The obviously moderately priced black suit, top hat, and cane didn't tell him a thing- the whole outfit was only marginally better than his own or the other helps'.

It was when he finally took in the man's politely (and oddly earnestly, after the rich folk) smiling face, rather red nose, and slightly jowly cheeks all topped off with the smallest bit bit of thin red hair poking out from under his hat that Wetherby recognized him; the Schoolmarm's son...the local butcher...Charles? No, Marcus, that was it!

 

Squinting slightly into the generously lit foyer (he wasn't used to anything more powerful than sun or unadorned candlelight, indoors), Marcus was no less pleased as he hadn't been in a long time to be at the party.

 

Even if he had had to come without his beloved Evelyn. His darling wife, saint of a woman that she was, had *insisted* that he attend without her, and that she would stay home to care for their ill sons. Poor Charles and Alexander. Their inseparability had once again brought them both down with the exact same sickness within days of one another.

 

The invitation had been for the entire family, of course. Even though he and Sir Garnavon had only known gotten to know one another marginally well over the years, apparently the noble gentleman had made it a careful point to invite not only Mother, but Marcus himself , his wife, and two sons.

 

Then they'd taken sick just two days before the party! He frowned slightly to himself in worry. But though he was gettin gclose to up in years, they were still young, and hardy lads, he knew. And Evelyn was the best nurse one could ask. Most importantly, as out of his depth as he felt, Marcus knew he could not dare to have his mother attend alone- the poor woman suffered enough daily, and being among the elite, even as genteel and friendly an elite as this household, would make her feel even more accutely alone. And that wouldn't do. The Bible says, after all, honor thy father and mother!

 

Once he had finished explaining all of this to a now glassy-eyed Wetherby, he felt worlds better, having had a chance to talk to a working man such as himself to warm up...to say nothing of getting (hopefully) all of his nervous chatter out of the way before he'd been introduced to the other guests.

 

Marcus thanked Wetherby for taking his overcoat, as well as wishing him a heartfelt "God bless you!" (for he really didn't want his only nice suit sneezed on more than once tonight), Marcus strolled into the manor, gazing about admiringly.

 

As he began running through a list of likely conversation topics for the rich, he put his fears aside and focused instead on the endless possibilities of such an evening for ones such as he and dear, kind Mother.

 

Heartened now fully, Marcus hummed a soft tune to himself as he looked about to see if that wondeful old woman had arrived yet.

[Lady Celes Crusader]

Elisabeth enters in the mansion and is greeted Wetherby, who asked about the gifts and takes off her shawl.

 

- Thank you Wetherby. These presents are for the host and the the fiances and they are appropriatly indentified.

 

Mrs. Christie the walks among the guests and talks to one guest by the foyer when David politely walks by her.

 

Elisabeth to the other guest:

- Really, besides Mr. Worthington, finding a challenging poker playing is next to impossible. How is my husband? I'm afraid that he's not feeling well. I hired the best nurse I could find to give him the appropriate cares. The doctor suspects that he might have turberculosis and that his days might be numbered. *sights* He did insisted that I attend at the wedding and I don't know how come but he did find the strenght to craft jewels.

 

The socialite feels that someone observes her and turns around, noticing David

 

- Are you aware that this is pretty impolite to stare at me like that?

 

An embarassed David blushes and replies

 

- Beg your pardon, Mrs, but...

 

Elisabeth interrupted the servant

 

- May I ask who sent you to me?

 

David felt that it wasn't in his best interest to refuse such demands and leads Elisabeth, who excuses herself to the other guest, to Mr. Vahktang.

[Tamaranis]

It wasn't that James didn't appreciate the kindness of his employer, or understand his desire to see old friends, not at all. It wasn't that the precence of wealthy individuals made him uncomfortable, in fact it usually went the other way around.

 

The reason James didn't like parties on this scale was, despite his age, largely in charge of attending the horses of any guests. This might not have been so bad if he had others working under him, but such was not the case. Usually the work required of him was minimal, but when events like this rolled around, he was kept inexcusably busy cleaning stables, feeding horses, watering horses, ensuring horses got their exercise, etc.

 

James liked horses and all, just not a lot of them all at once.

 

Of course, maybe it was best to keep busy, he reflected as he began the process of freeing another pair of horses from their carriage and leading them to the stable. Word tended to travel among servants, and he had learned his older brother would be in attendence. He didn't get along particularly well with that self-superior bag of hot air.

[Tanuchan]

Sir Garnavon walks around the house, greeting his guests and keeping an eye on the people hired to prepare the wedding.

 

"Ah, Dr. Watson... I'm so glad you could come! But, where is Mr. Holmes?"

 

"It's a pleasure being here, Sir Garnavon. Unfortunately my friend is involved in some very delicate business, and couldn't come with me. However, as the wedding is to be celebrated just in three days' time, it's still possible that he comes."

 

"I do hope he can wrap his case and be here for the wedding! If it weren't for him, and you, my Richard wouldn't be here for this happy day!" Sir Garnavon's face brightens as he waves a young woman to him. "I believe you haven't met my dearest daughter, Clarice.... and... excuse me, doctor but I see something that must be corrected." Frowning, he goes to a boy.

 

"Bill, those plants are not supposed to be brought in. They should be kept in the gardens near the west wing. They are very rare and exotic. I don't want them suffering indoors."

 

"Aye, Sir. It'll be done".

 

Pausing to survey the room and his guests, Sir Garnavon gives a satisfied smile. Clarice soon comes, and together they leave to see to other necessary details for the wedding.

 

OOC: Loving your RP Next post will be NPC kill, due up in about 10 hours from this time stamp.

Edited March 9, 2004 by Tanuchan

[Katzaniel]

As the last of the guests pile out of the train, and Marcus has not descended the steps, Katharine begins to worry. Charles' absence was expected, but where could Marcus be? Before the train can leave, she climbs up to it and inquires whether any passengers might be sleeping in their compartments. Somehow it never occurs to her that Marcus might have already left for the house.

 

The kindly steward conducts a quick but thorough search for the frantic elderly lady but finally has to tell her that he's sorry, but the only passengers still aboard are going on to the next stop.

 

Confused and worried, Katharine leaves the station. She considers going home, but the mail had arrived earlier in the day and nothing new could be there by now. Whatever could have happened to keep him away, word could not arrive until tomorrow at the soonest, and she could not do anything for him.

 

Well, she had seen a few other old aquaintances arriving while she was waiting. She couldn't imagine doing anything as mundane as socializing when her son might be hurt (or dead!) but there was nothing else to do. She had often counselled her students about similar circumstances, saying "If you can't act on it, don't think on it." She would do no good here. Besides, someone at the mansion might have news from him. That thought did it for her. She headed as quickly as she could to Garnavon Hall.

 

(OOC: Someone has to smack me about my terrible tendency to change tense between posts, but I probably shouldn't edit the first one, and I'm not going to start using past tense again, or I'll just find myself switching later...)

[Matteo]

With polite interest in the sauntering guests, Gavin makes for the manor its self, nodding and providing the appropriate courtesies to those he passes. Though hastened, his step is moderately at ease. His eyes scan the massive abode to which he is en route, pausing briefly on the doors as his gaze lands on the billows of Miss Elisabeth?s dress passing aft the portal.

 

'I had hoped she'd attend.' The fleeting thought had barely registered in his conscience when his left foot caught the rough edge of a cobblestone, further driving it from his mind. His current gate demanded his continued travel, and his foot was dragged behind by the stone; his right flew out madly in a vane attempt to regain balance, his arms shot out in a wild attempt to grasp at something that was not there as he was driven nearly headlong to the ground at Wetherby's feet.

 

"Oof! By all that is sweet and..." Gavin struggles to his feet as quickly as possible, saving no time for dignity. Only once standing erect once more does he survey the scene, hoping that no one noticed this rather humorous display of public humiliation.

 

"Well done sir, I'll give you a 9.0 for execution, but the landing was less than impressive. Then again... that could have been your intended action..."

 

"Very clever Mr. Wetherby."Gavin straightens his coat and ruffles his cravat, lending only a passing glance to the smug butler before continuing through to the courtyard. His trousers, obviously dirtied in the post snagging events were marshalled clean of their contaminants with a brisk hand before exiting the relative darkness of the manor to the inner courtyard.

 

"Was du hal, my friends?" Smiling dashingly Gavin opens his arms in mock embrace of the gathered patrons. Obviously pleased with his entering comment and confident in its relayed intellect, he moves to the Lady Katherine.

 

Taking up her hand in a flourished bow, Gavin kisses her hand and returns in to her side. "Ah, the lovely Miss Elisabeth, even more beautiful than I remember; radiant as always I see..."

Edited March 9, 2004 by Matteo

[Tanuchan]

As the several guests arrive along the day, people renew their friendship and make new acquaintances, lending a lively and happy air to the old manor house. Mrs. Horton arrives near the end of the day, worried no end about her sons, only to find Marcus in the stables trying to urge James to ready a cab so he can check the station. As they go back to the house, a swearing is heard and they turn to see Gavin Doyle standing up and facing a phlegmatic Wetherby. Laughing under her breath, Mrs. Horton passes by discreetly.

 

Sir Garnavon and Sir Alfred talk in a corner of the big living room, smiling and observing the younger ones. They notice Mrs. Christie talking to Mr. Vahktang, and to the back of the room Sir Garnavon glimpses Wil. He shakes his head, amused, but pretends not noticing him. Others around them also talk, some being quite interested in trying to pry out of good Dr. Watson some new adventures of his famous friend.

 

After dinner, the guests little by little excuse themselves and go to their rooms for the night. Those who live in the village also leave, and not much later darkness reigns in most of the rooms in Garnavon Hall.

 

......

 

Morning comes, bringing a big commotion. At Garnavon Hall, servants are seen hurrying to and fro, and the guests start gathering at the main room with puzzled faces. Some of the people from the village are also present, either because of their friends in the house or because of business due to the wedding. All of them murmur among themselves quite at a loss, when Richard Garnavon joins them with a very pale face.

 

"My friends, I'm sorry. A great tragedy happened this night."

 

He sways, and Wetherby hastily helps him. His face getting paler, Richard looks at his guests and others who already gather in the room. Some of them notice how old he suddenly looks, almost as if he had gotten years older in just one night.

 

"It's... it's... my... " He stops, clearly lost. A kind hand supports him on the other side, and Watson makes him sit down. Then, he turns to the assembled guests.

 

"I'm very sorry to inform that Sir Cecil Garnavon has been found dead early this morning."

 

There's a stunned silence. John Norfolk looks at Watson, his voice harsh. "How? He was well last night, we've talked for some time... He has always been a healthy man..."

 

"Probably his heart," whispers Cuthbert. "Sometimes it happens so suddenly that even close family is taken aback..."

 

Watson looks at Richard very uncomfortably, but the young Lord clearly has no condition to speak. Sighing, he raises his voice. "Please, there are some... doubts... about the cause of death. I regret to ask this of you, but no one is to leave Garnavon Hall or the village until we can determine exactly what happened."

 

The murmurs rise in volume. "What does this mean? You cannot do this!" Mr. Vahktang fixes piercing eyes on Watson. "If there are doubts, call the police! But you don't..."

 

"Ladies, gentlemen, please... I beg of you." Finally regaining composure, Richards stands up. "My father was found dead with a needle in his neck. Apparently, a poisoned needle. I want to avoid all possible scandal, and you can understand this. We have many well-known guests here, and a scandal isn't really what we need. So, Dr. Watson has sent a message asking urgently the presence of his friend Mr. Holmes to help us determining what happened. Meanwhile, I do ask that you remain in Garnavon Hall... my friends from the village, of course you're free to go home. If you care to stay, we have rooms for all... but no one is to leave the village, for we are looking for an assassin. The wedding, obviously, will be... postponed."

 

He drops into the chair, unable to continue. Watson pats his shoulder, then looks at every one present.

 

Whispered conversations grow around the house and the village, news of Sir Garnavon's assassination spreading quickly. Suddenly, suspicion is on everybody's eyes, and speculation runs free.

 

 

OOC Day phase! You have 48h from this time stamp to post your accusations. Choose wisely, for assassins are lurking but there are also those who will use their skills to help, unknown as they are.

Edited March 9, 2004 by Tanuchan

[Katzaniel]

Katharine gasps, Marcus putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Shock pervades her voice when she stutters, "A...assasination? But who...who could do such a thing? Why could... anyone want good Cecil... dead?"

[Eyremon]

hellaya only in jolly old england can someone come to a wedding then be thrown smack dab into the middle of a murder. is this one of those new fad games that I have heard of Murder Mystery? ohhh ohhhh in all the books Eager wrote wasn't it the butler? that makes no sense. Hey Vinnie what was in that needle? your one of those chemical type people right?

I know as an outsider I am oblivious to them there upper crust rivaleries, Perhaps Lizzie can tell us all that dirt she knows about the late Lord, After all it is well known that she is a gossip bug. If I had to venture a guess about a guilty party my bets would be on Mr. Doyle. A philosophy Major what can you do with that? That ain't like a good honest job huh Wil?

 

OOC. Gavin Doyle <Matteo>

 

 

Katzaniel - Katharine Horton, retired schoolteacher

MeThinksUFoolish - Wetherby Danielson, Sir Cecil Garnavon's butler

Vahktang - Mr. Vahktang, Georgian gentleman on tour of the Continent

X-Sabre - George Worthington, tavern owner

Degenero Angelus - Sir Alfred Peterson, rich old Knight and Nobleman

Tamaranis - James Doyle, stableboy at Garnavon Hall

Ozymandias - Marcus Horton, a butcher (Katharine's son)

Nave - John Norfolk, merchant

Lady Celes Crusader - Elisabeth Christie, well-known socialite

Matteo - Gavin Doyle, Philosophy major with minor in English

DeanTheAdequate - Vincent Cuthbert, doctor of Chemistry

Elwen - Lady Emily Galanodel, unconventional teenage noblewoman

Eyremon - Edwyn Cooper, American soldier/merc just back from Africa

Gnarlitch - Wil, jack o' all trades

[Vahktang]

Flash back time:

Mr. Vahktang thinks back to idylic times. Like yesterday.

David felt that it wasn't in his best interest to refuse such demands and leads Elisabeth, who excuses herself to the other guest, to Mr. Vahktang.

Elizabeth strides forward and plants herself in front of Mr. Vahktang looking expectantly and is surprised and charmed slightly when he blushes slightly but carries on.

"Madam. In the interests of this new age, allow me to introduce myself: I am Shota Vahktang, my homeland is Georgia and I greet you in the continental style."

Elizabeth extends her hand, Shota takes it, brings it to his lips while he bows and clicks his heels.

This brings a slight smile to Elizabeth's lips.

"And I greet you, Mr. Vahktang. My name is Elisabeth Christie. Since this is a friendly event, you may call me Elisabeth."

Mr. Vahktang is taken aback, not used to this western forwardness.

"And you must call me Shota, please.

"As you can guess, and I have said, I am a visitor to this country and very interested in the local features. Would you care to show me the garden?"

'New to this country he may be,' thought Elizabeth, 'but not new to flirting.'

"Of course, Shota," she says, extending her arm, which he takes, as they peramble through the louvre doors and down to the garden.

Once outside Mr. Vahktang is amazed at the size of the grounds and how well kept and managed it all is, but one feature catches his eye above all others.

"Ah, a hedge maze. I have heard of such things, but I have never seen."

"Yes, Sir Cecil's is one of the largest and most extensive in all of England. A couple can be lost from sight for hours in there I understand."

"Really? Hours you say."

"Yes, and there is statuary and flower beds in the interior that simply must be seen."

"Then see them we must."

And with that they entered the maze, not to be seen for quite some time.

 

Now:

A philosophy Major what can you do with that? That ain't like a good honest job huh Wil?

"Not everything is as cut and dried as in your country, Mr. Cooper. Not everything has to be directly utilitarian. There is aesthetics, tradition and history.

"A degree in Philosophy is a mark of a gentleman.

"This could not be the work of the hoi polloi. It must be the work of a common man.

"I understand Wil, that you have some experience in killing vermin, traps and poisons, is that not so?"

 

OOC: accusation for Gnarlitch - Wil

C'mon people. This is Victorian England. Let's align along class lines.

 

 

More later,

 

Vahktang

Edited March 9, 2004 by Vahktang

[DeanTheAdequate]

Hmmm...

 

A poison you say? Well, I do happen to have a few instruments in my belongings. If I can get the permission of the family I could analyze a blood sample from the deceased.

 

As fro who did it... Tell me Weatherby, has your master been sleeping well at night? Perhaps he needed something before he drifted off? Well I must say that is some stron ether, let me tell you...

 

OOC: One for MeThinksYouFoolish. I coulden't resist... THGE BUTLER DID IT!

[Katzaniel]

After the original group had dispersed, just a little later in the day, and it was already obvious that people were forming groups and gossiping quite readily. Katharine, never one to shy away from a good instructive dialogue, attempted to strike up a conversation with Gavin, who seemed like the most enlightened one here.

 

"Well," she said, "I find I must wonder who around here could be capable of murder, and that Mr. Cooper certainly has the credentials for that. But how could he possibly have any motivation? Do you think this could be a team effort, Mr. Doyle? That someone may have hired him to do it? I cannot think of many around here who have reason to want him dead, but perhaps the young Lady Emily felt he was competition to her. She is very unpredictable. What do you think about all this, Mr. Doyle?"

 

OOC: no guess yet.