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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

A Halloween Party.


Ozymandias

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Nathaniel pats Miranda on the shoulder, with a vehemence in his aged eyes that had not been there in a while.

 

"Salads are like soo grosssssss!" the blond one said, and with a fury that was unexpected (and that probably gave the old man some pains) he stood, and walked quickly over to the Inspector and Georgia.

 

"Gross? You want to know what's gross? A man being slaughtered by a werewolf!"

 

Georgia gasps suddenly, her glazed and empty eyes wide, "A werewolf? Like, freaky!! I'm totally out of here!"

 

Nathaniel moves quickly (for a man his age), and steps in front of the Volleyball player as she attempted to leave. "Not so fast," he said coldly, with a voice that would chill wine.

 

She stopped suddenly, looking up at him with (surprise, surprise) a blank stare.

 

"Georgia, I accuse you of being a werewolf, and I suggest that the party lynch you immediately to remove the threat!"

 

There was an immediate uproar around the room, with people saying things like "She's too... BLONDE to be a werewolf!", and, "I knew it all along!"

 

Nathaniel waved for silence. "One at a time, we must all vote. My vote has been cast for Georgia... who will follow me, and dispose of this threat?!"

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Just what the hell was going on? Torn appart by wolves? Inside? That didn't make the slightest bit of sense.

 

Ah werewolves, that made a little more sense. A little.

 

"Now just hold on a minute." Jim raised his voice slightly, approaching Nathaniel. "What qualifies you to make that descision? Hmm?" It was suddenly apparent that Jim was a wider-set sort, quite muscular. He seemed a little angry, and it seemed that maybe that emotion came easily to him.

 

By all appearances, Nathaniel was in a danger besides that posed by marauding werewolves. He didn't seem to acknowledge it, however.

 

"You're just a little too quick to suggest blaming some one else, is all." Jim added.

 

OOC: So I vote we hang Merelas/Nathaniel

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Miranda's eyes widened horrified as accusations began to fly from the mouths of the wise and paranoid alike. Standing she stepped between Nathaniel and Jim trying to be a soft spoken word of reason. "Gentlemen, I know this is a frightening time, but we must try to stick together."

 

"Stick together? I don't know if you've noticed, lady, but people are dying, and someone in here is responsible!" Jim retorted a bit heated. Miranda bit her lip looking between the three of them. "Well, if I had to pick between the lady and Nathaniel, I suppose I'd suspect the lady, but shouldn't we just call in some authorities or something? Is it really necessary to lynch her? Besides, what about the butler. It seems he would know the manor better than anyone, yes?"

 

OOC tossed some more confusion into the pot lol

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Barclay was stunned. Stunned not by the murders, but by the accusation that he might the eat cooking of a... or a... commoner! How dare that silly detective say such a thing! Of course, if anyone had suggested to the young fop that a noble actually set foot in a kitchen and cook for himself, then the response would be much the same. It had never really crossed his mind that most cooks were indeed commoners.

 

As the commotion continues, Barclay raises his head and glances at the big breasted blonde, Georgia. A little drool starts to seep from his mouth, and his eyes seem to increase in size ten-fold, "HUBBA HUBBA!"

 

Seconds later, the noble coughs and composes himself. He checks his clothes for any dust, and on seeing none, he walks over to the gathering of people... making sure to stand next to Georgia. "Ahem! Ladies and Gentleman, if I may have a moment of your time..."

 

Several pairs of eyes turn to glance at Barclay, "Yes, well... I do not see how you can accuse such a poor... innocent and beautiful lady of being a wolf! I mean just run your eyes over her body..." He pauses and wraps his arm around Georgia with a smirk on his face, "See this finely toned woman? She could not be a wolf! Nay! Though she is certainly FOXY!"

 

A few groans are audible throughout the room at Barclays poor attempt at a joke, "Nay, I think that the wolf is neither she... nor even this fine gentleman who accused her." He nods towards Nathaniel, "For a gentleman with the noble name of Nathaniel could not be such a terrible killer!" He pauses for effect, and scrumples his face up, attempting to look serious, "Nay, friends. We do have a killer among us! But that killer is none-other than... the brute, Jim!"

 

The young fop turns to regard Jim, "Yes, the werewolf among us could be none-other than you, Jim! Your brutish demeanor and common name say it all! You, are a werewolf, and should be lynched!"

Edited by Aegon
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Willow steps out of the corner and looks the volleyball player over carefully and shakes her head. She walks around each person in the room carefully inspecting them. then without saying anything she points to Nathaniel and slips back into the corner

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the little man in the corner shook as he spoke, but it was clear that he felt that speak he must. What's all this accusing going on.?

This is horrible. That pretty girl ain't no werewolf. I refuse to wish anyone's death I tell you!

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aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh *plop*

 

A small ball of.. uhm, yes, of Hair, long blond hair, appeared half a meter above the floor in the middle of the room and fell down with a loud *thump*. The people in the room were at least midly surprised.. many shuffled a bit away from the hairy ball even.

 

hmrpf! I'll never get it right .. ouchie!

 

A leg appeared in the tangle of hair and a hand pushed the floor.. slowly a small figure unfolded herself and took in the room, a small pointy, black witchhat perched on her small, young head. Jolly would be the word for it.

 

Nice decoration... a bit low on the color red though *a flash of small white teeth*

 

the figure seems only after heavy stretching to notice the people gathered here and she smiles

 

"Harken! I bring news.. news of the dead!"

 

A timely lightening bolt hits the lone tree seen outside the window and a low rumble follows as is only custom in this case

 

"I was sent here by Ozymandias with a present, and possibly....... a surprise" *same flash of small white teeth again, with an almost audible *pling* this time*

 

The tiny figure fumbles behind her and suddenly holds the corpse of Nathaniel in front of her.

 

"I give you your choice of hanging, lynching, maiming.. Any of those words will do"

 

*Insert Manical Laughter and another Crash of Lightening*

 

"He was A Wolfsbane in Life.. Now Know Thy Doooooom! WAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAaa*cough*aahh*giggle*"

 

*Crash of Thunder, Flashing Lights over Corpse, you know, the usual cheap effects*

 

"I'll be back before the night is over!"

 

Appy (most people had recognised her by now, and the giggle made it sure) flicked her fingers and dissapeared with the same *plop* she had arrived with.. after some time the still stunned people heard a crashing in one of the cabinets that lined the walls

 

*muffled, pleading voice* Uhm, could someone open this door please? It seems my teleportation spell fizzled AGAIN!

 

After the closest person had opened the door Appy smiled apologetically and sidled towards the door through which she quickly dissapeared

Edited by Appy
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Yes, friends, poor Nathaniel is dead. A more innocent and tustworthy a hero could not be found.

 

The host sighs.

 

Now, who's up for some stretched- erm- pulled beef?

 

The Mighty Maroon Monkey Man and Nathaniel are both dead. And yes, Nathaniel *was* your Wolfsbaner. Good luck. }:>)

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Still completely ignorant of the current deathtoll and all of the mentionings of werewolves, Inspector I. M Clueless continues to investigate the mysterious connection to the chef Wolfgang Puck. Stroking his chin thoughtfully and flipping through the pages of a tattered second edition of the famous chef's novel Adventures in the Kitchen, the Inspector's eyes skim over the recipes as his brain slowly processes the information... "Marinated and Glazed Swordfish"... "Chinois Chicken Salad in Wonton Cups with Chinese Mustard Vinaigrette"... "Wolfgang's Classic Chicken Pot Pie"... There had to be some hidden connection, some fact that was right at the tip of his fingers but was cleverly concealed...

 

Sighing to himself and deciding that this would be another long, hard investigation, I. M Clueless wanders up to the table under which Mr. Eeeek hides and raps on it briefly with his knuckles. After a moment of silence, Mr. Eeeek stutters:

 

"Y-y-y-yes? Who's there?!"

 

"Inspector I. M Clueless." responds the detective as he tries to light a cigarrette with a pack of chewing gum that he mistakes for a lighter. "Private Eye."

 

"Wh-what do you want?"

 

"I was wondering if I could come into your humble abode underneath the table and ask you a few questions. It shouldn't take too long..."

 

Mr. Eeeek considers this for a moment, then nervously motions with a hand from his spot to the Inspector. Ducking down and crawling under the table, I. M Clueless looks around and gruffly mutters:

 

"Nice place you got here... I love the gum wad ceiling decorations."

 

"Get to the point Inspector, wh-what do you want from little ol me?"

 

The Inspector smiles, then murmers:

 

"Straight to the point, is it? I like that in a man, shows that he's brave and not afraid of anything."

 

Mr. Eeeek trembles and chatters his teeth as Inspector I. M Clueless continues:

 

"Mr. Eeeek... what can you tell me about this recipe?"

 

With that, Inspector Clueless holds up a picture of a plate of Wolfgang Puck's "Fettucine Wolf-Fredo (Grilled Chicken Breast with Fettucine in Parmesan Cream Sauce with Pancetta and Garlic)" recipe. Mr Eeeek raises a brow in confusion as he stares at the picture uneasily...

 

"Does this picture frighten you, Mr. Eeeek?"

 

"I-I-I'm allergic to parmesan cream sauce!" stutters the palid man "Please don't hurt me!!!"

 

Inspector Clueless sighs and slowly nods, staring at the ground for a long moment in silence before placing the picture back in his pocket and thanking Mr. Eeeek for his time. Turning to exit the spot underneath the table, it takes Clueless a full 40 minutes before he manages to find a way out...

Edited by Inspector I. M Clueless
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With a dusty whirr a grandfather clock on the floor directly above the ballroom begins to chime with a deep and ominous ring.

On exactly the seventh tone, the whirring stops and the huge oak double doors to the dining hall swing open with a low creak.

"Dinner is served!" announces Vert Gressam, raising his arms with grandure from the center of the hall.

There are two long wood tables placed end to end with no tablecloth. Spaced evenly along them are four roast turkeys with turnip sauce. Dishes on either side contain the fixings such as an oddly coloured gravy, a cranbarry sauce with an odd taste of iron in it, potatoes, stuffing and the remaining dishes of custard salad.

There is a plate and complement of cutlery for every guest and one at the head of the table should the master decide to join them for the meal.

A side table with a white cloth draped over it, supports two pitchers of water and several bottles of wine.

Vert's face falls as he sees the corpse laying in the middle of the room.

"Damn you all!" he shouts. "Has no one any respect for the work that needs to be done to keep a house like this clean?"

The butler storms forward, pushing guests asside and grabs the carcass, lofting it easily over his small shoulders and walking out through the main doors.

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Jared sat in his room. Still shakened about the events that had just happened. "What is going on?" he muttered as he continued to walk about. He then started shaking as if someone was watching him. "I this." he then growled as he left his room, slamming the door shut behind him. "Two are already , who can I trust. Hell I better find the others." He then stormed off and started searching for someone.

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The young fop rubs his weary eyes. He's not had much sleep recently, having spent all of the night in fits of dreams and visions. When he'd woken up this morning and looked in the mirror his screams could be heard through the land, as he beheld his tired and not-so-handsome image. Barclay was still dressed neatly, however, and not a crease could be seen on his well pressed and well cleaned scarlet clothes.

 

"G'morning..." He mutters as he walks into the party room, "So, you went and killed Nathaniel, ladies and gentleman?" He lets out a loud sigh, "Ah, while 'tis good that he is no longer around to try and steal any women from me, 'tis bad that he was not the wolf. You should have listened to me."

 

He walks over to Georgia and pats her on the behind, "Ah, my foxy lass... how about helping to cheer a tired man up? We could head to my room and...", the noble didn't get to finish his sentence, as Georgia’s hand flew to the side of his face and slapped him soundly.

 

"I am like, not cheap, 'y know? If you like wanna sleep with me and stuff, then you like, have to buy me beer, y' know?", the bimbo lectured him.

 

"Oh yes! Of course milady, I the mighty Barclay am forgetting my manners! Always buy the lady a drink before taking her to bed! I apologize... I did not sleep well last night."

 

Rubbing his eyes, Barclay coughs for attention, his face looking serious, "Ah, ladies and gentleman? May I have your attention again? The renowned Barclay wishes to speak." At this there were a few mutterings of discord, no-one really liked to listen to the dandy speak, but it didn't seem like he was giving them much of a choice.

 

"I, Barclay B. Scarlettenniavordsmanville must speak to you all. Needless to say, that the ladies here should be overwhelmingly grateful towards me, for 'tis possible that I may save their lives here..." He bows his head gravely, "We have been betrayed friends! There are two wolves here among us, and I shall now reveal them to ye all!"

 

Pointedly shifting his gaze from Miranda to Jim, he speaks up, in an even louder voice, "The peasant woman Miranda and the brute known as Jim are none other than the very wolves we seek! I have seen them in a vision... killing, murdering and deceiving... and I cannot keep my tongue silent, though it costs me my life."

 

With an exaggerated sigh, Barclay lowers his head, "Ladies, now that I have put myself in danger, I feel saddened, for my very life could be in the balance, here. But nay, you... you ladies, you could cheer me up, you could make me feel happy again. I suggest that these two... fiends be lynched, and all the ladies and myself then adjourn to my bedroom for drinks and... play. What say you, people?"

Edited by Aegon
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"I say we, like, totally should lynch that Jim guy! And then beers for all!" Georgia grinned and bounced excitedly, cuddling up against Barclay's side. He looked like he could be rich enough to buy her some nice gifts and even better alcohol. She started bouncing the question of whether she'd rather have a beer or a Jack and Coke around, and in the empty space between her ears, it made a significant echo.

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Miranda blinked perplexed then stood from where she knelt at Nathaniel’s side tears welled up within her eyes. Looking at Jim she responded with a hurt tone. “Look, I’m not sure who you are, or who this Jim guy is, but I had nothing to do with this entire affair. This kind sweet man that you have killed was working very hard to end this string of murders. He was a protector, not a killer.”

 

Looking back down to the fallen gent a soft sob escaped her lips as she raised a kerchief from his pocket to her mouth muffling the sound. “I agree with Gwaihir. Kill Jim if he’s a murderer. However, if I should be killed tonight for my boldness, I must have you look at Mr. Barclay here. He’s quick to lump me together with this Jim person, which makes me think perhaps he’s playing mind games. Perhaps Jim’s not the wolf, and we’ll see he was wrong. However, perhaps he IS the wolf and he’s sacrificing his partner in order to remain victorious. Honor among murderers? We can only hope.”

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"While I agree that Jim may be one of the potentual werewolves among us. I am not sure about the rest of you." Jared said as he walked into the center of the room. "You." Jared pointed at Barclay, "Your talk of visions and then pinning the blame on Miranda, you got some nerve. You might be the second werewolf trying to hide his identity by blaming Miranda. Than again you both could be werewolves and are using Jim to keep yourselves alive. Still if anyone should get lynched I would say Jim, if it turns out he was not one of the werewolves then we will know for sure who is the werewolf."

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Melissa bounced up from her pillow by the fire saying "Well, Mr. Barclay Red-Herring, you have a lot of nerve claiming visions and flinging accusations. However, have you missed how readily and easily Vert disposes of the corpses about here? I strongly suspect HIM, and i wouldn't be in a great hurry to sample the custard salad."

 

With an emphatic nod, she turned and left the room in search of the ladies' room.

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Vert enters the hall looking tired. His dark green uniform has flecks of mud on it, though his hands remain immaculate.

He sets down a tray with numerous small dishes of chocolate spinach meringue on it - each with a spoon and a lump of whip cream sitting on top.

"Who owns a gold trimmed carriage with an expensive looking horse? It is in the river." He calls out in an annoyed tone.

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"But... why do some of you not believe me? Do you not take thw word of a noble over a lowly peasent? Don't hate me because I'm beautiful! ...more importantly however - where are the women flinging themselves at my feet!? Where is my sweet tasty harem of women willing to do my every bidding?" At this moment, a big tear swells up in the corner of his eye, "There should have been so many women..."

 

Barclay goes silent for a few minutes, too busy feeling sorry for himself to pay much attention to everything else around him. He does however eventually come to his senses, and notices Georgia looking at him curiously.

 

"Don't worry. I- I'm fine...", he half sobs.

 

With a smile the young bimbo nods, "Yes, of course you were. But I was like wondering... do I want like, another beer... or should I kinda like, have a rum and coke?" To this Barclay can only let out an exasperated sigh and pass her his own drink. "Just drink this. Oh, and try not to speak, you're so much prettier when you're silent."

 

For a moment, the dandy's eyes glint in comprehension, "Say, Miranda... you mentioned that Nathaniel was a hunter of werewolves, and that he has now been killed by everyone here. But... you forget, you are one of those very people who accused him, and I... defended the man. Why would I defend a man, who was my potential enemy? Nay, milady... I am no wolf."

Edited by Aegon
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Miranda blinks frustration rimming her brow. "Actually, I did not blame Nathaniel. Perhaps if you concentrated more on the matters at hand and less on women and booze you might have noticed that."

 

With that she withdraws back to the place she only a short time ago sat fondly next to Nathaniel.

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"So noone owns a carriage with a horse that is now in the river? A carriage that has 1/2 inch thich gold lettering spelling out "Ladies beware, within rides Barclay B. Scarlettenniavordsmanville" on it?"

Vert stares meaningfully at the 'fop'.

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