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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Werewolf XV: The Name of the Rose

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Brother Thomas sat in his cell, feeling quite fortunate that he had not cast a vote. He would not have the loss of the innocent man on his conscience. He felt sorrow that his brethren had done this, but there was nothing that could be done about it. What was done was done, and it was in God's hands now.


He quickly transcribed the events of the day into his journal, careful to leave out his personal feelings of the issue. At least there would be a record of the events of the abbey, once this was all done and said.


With another sigh, he took a light rest, before heading out to meet with the others...

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Matin arrives silently, the line of monks and sleepy novices going into the church without even the usual whispers. The last events seem to weigh in everyone's minds, and there are several surrepticious looks to check if there's someone missing.


The chorus of monks in prayer fills the silence, bringing a measure of peace and confidence to most hearts - until a soft murmur coming from the novices has to be sternly silenced by their master.


Thankfully, the following meditation isn't interrupted -- the novices having been led to the chapter house to study the psalms and thus not having chance to check what one of them thought he has noticed: an empty place among the monks. As the servants are still asleep, it takes until Laud for the shouting begin.


The Abbot hurries to hush the servants who come in screaming, but he is too late. Starting from the novice's rows and spreading throughout the church, the word chills everyone: death. A monk's death. Another one.


Pigs had been slaughtered the day before, and as customary in winter their blood had been put into a big jar and left outside overnight, to start the making of blood puddings. Now, as the monks rush out of the church, they can see that something sticks out of the bloody jar.



"The sky was now light, and sthe snow on the ground made the compound even more luminous. Behind the choir, in front of the pens, where the day before thad stood the great jar with the pigs blood, a strange object, almost cruicform, protureded above the edge of the vessel, as if two stakes had been driven into the ground, to be covered with rags for scaring off birds.


But they were human legs, the legs of a man thrust head down into the vessel of blood." (The Name of the Rose, U. Eco)



Frances, pale as death, brings a bucket of water and some rags, and so the face of the unfortunate monk is cleaned: Brother Venancius of Salvemec, a greek scholar and translator, and known to be a friend of Adelmo's.



By the end of breakfast, the rumors had started once more: the brother herbalist was overheard talking to the Abbot, and two words were overheard: 'maybe poison'.



And at the church, a light draft makes the open pages of a forgotten Bible flutter...


"The second angel sounded his trumpet, and something like a huge mountain, all ablaze, was thrown into the sea. A third of the sea turned into blood, a third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed." (Revelation 8:8-9)




OOC: There was no player kill this night, just poor Brother Venancio, NPC (and second death in Eco's book). It's Day Phase and you have 48 hours from this time-stamp to place your accusations. Although abstentions are a valid choice, I'll just ask to be careful not to have someone lynched because there were more abstentions than valid votes ;).


Check the scorecard at the OOC thread.


Good hunting!



(late edit for font after board change)

Edited by Tanuchan

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Brother Gulzar returned to the breakfast table, and sat down next to Brother Mathieu.


"They are talking about Brother Venancio being murdered by poison." He whispered.


"Yes, I know, but who would do such a thing?"


"I wouldn't know, but if it is poison, maybe we should think about who has the necessairy knowledge to find these poisonous plants, next to us I mean. Well, maybe next they go accusing us."


"Don't be riddiculous!" Brother Mathieu's said loudly, the murmur around them silenced.


"Almost all the Brother's know how to recognize poisonous plants, and besides didn't you yourself say the other day that Brother Rhys had helped you with the garden...and that you were surprised by his knowledge..." Brother Mathieu had brouht his voice back to a whisper, but had a defiant look in his eyes.


"...Maybe you're right," Brother Gulzar felt a sudden relief coming over him.


"But then we can rule out Good Benneth, he doesn't know how to recognize a flower from weed." Brother Gulzar smiled, "The other day he came up to me holding a piece of weed, you know what he asks me....Fadda Flowuh? I tell you I had a hard time trying to keep a straight face while explaining that it wasn't a flower."


"Yes, and you know Brother Thomas? I asked him the other day if he could bring some more White Bryony roots for Brother Thiabualt's poultice, guess what he comes back with? ...blessed thistle."




"Yeah, he told me later, well wrote more, that he probably wouldn't recognize a rose from a tulip, said that he had never got the hang of that gardening stuff."


They laughed quietly about their little gardner's joke, feeling slightly guilty laughing about someone else's weakness.


"At least we know for sure that our dear Brother Thomas didn't do it," Brother Gulzar said hiccuping.


"...and did I tell you about Felipe? well he...."


It was a good thing that they had the second canonical hour of Prime after breakfast, and that they could ask for forigiveness for their sins. For they were now not only laughing about somebody else's weakness, they were just plain gossiping....

Edited by Sweetcherrie

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Felipe, serving at the breakfast table instead of having breakfast himself, could overhear many of the monks talking to each other. Some of them hushed their conversation when he came near, but most of them didn't notice him and kept on talking.


He could hear several of them speculating about who the murderer could be, and by the time he'd made two rounds he'd heard every monk and servant's name at least twice with three different reasons of why he'd be the murderer. One thought stuck in his mind though ...


"Yeah, he told me later, well wrote more, that he probably wouldn't recognize a rose from a tulip, said that he had never got the hang of that gardening stuff."


He'd once read a story about a murderer using a trained dog to kill people but who pretended to be afraid of dogs. They only found him because someone happened to notice dog hairs on his clothes.


As he was serving Brother Thomas, apparently lost in thought, he murmured to himself, "This smells so good a dumb man would learn how to speak to get some." As soon as he realized what he said, he flushed a deep red and started to stammer apologies. Brother Thomas' look told him he'd better save his breath, and the monk sitting next to him said sternly, "As you know, Brother Thomas has taken a vow of silence. While he thinks about your punishment, you shall go to his cell and scrub it clean from floor to ceiling."


Still red, Felipe continued his duty, thinking to himself that this would be a good opportunity to search Brother Thomas' room...

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Brother Gulzar hurried along the corridors, he had been praying for Brother Venancio's soul (and his own), and was now in a hurry to get back to the gardens.


Sliding around the corner he bumped into Felipe, "Where are you going?"


"I am going to scrub Brother Thomas's room, and -"


"I don't think so, you have been enough of a burden lately, Brother Thomas has gone up to his cell to work for a bit, and you are not going to disturb him. You can come with me, young man!"




"No buts, you are coming with me to help in the gardens....and that's the last I want to hear about it," He added when he saw the novice opening his mouth in protest again.


He shooed the, still protesting boy, out of the corridor into the garden, "Scrubbing private cells, who's heard of that..." shaking his head in disbelieve, following the novice towards the gardens.

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Felipe, muttering to himself, "No buts? There'll be two butts working in the garden and it'll be mine that's going to get in trouble for this", kept walking ahead of Brother Gulzar, immediately wishing that he hadn't said that so loud.


The rest of the afternoon he spent crouched over herbs and weeds, his fingers freezing in the cold air as he tried to tend to the winter plants. But even the cold could not banish the thoughts about Brother Thomas from his mind, and the longer he thought about it the more he started thinking that Brother Gulzar was also involved.


Why did he stop me anyway? Maybe he knows I suspect something and absolutely wanted to stop me from entering Brother Thomas' cell because he knows what I'd find there! This is horrible, what if they come for me next because I know too much?? I don't want to go to the Lord yet, may He forgive me for this thought! I have to get into Brother Thomas' cell for proof! Who's going to believe a novice, especially me with all the penance I've been doing here?


OOC : I accuse Brother Thomas - still waters run deep!

Edited by Venefyxatu

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Adrian stayed in the Hive room, not because there was anything to do at the moment, but because here he could be truly alone.

If he was in his cell, or in the chapel, someone could come up to him, he could hear people walking by, even as he prayed.

Here, there was only the constant buzzing, a sound that would make it so his own conversation would not carry even to the door.

"No, I listened once and an innocent man left."

"Misinterpreted? How could I-

"No! I will not listen to you again. I cannot have an innocent's b-"

And here he stops and sobs.

It takes him serveral minutes to stop sobbing, listening to the drone of the bees calms him, finally.

He sounds tired.

"Yes, another must not die.

"Yes, if I do nothing, I am guilty as the killers.

"Yes, I will bear witness against...who?"

"Brother Gulzer?

"No, not he. He is a pious man. He is an innocent man. If there is one who could be a friend to me here it is he.


"Yes, he is strong, strong enough to beat a man and throw him from a cliff.

"Yes, as a gardener, he would know much about poisons.

"But he can't...

"No, he wouldn't...

Finally, resigned, he sighed and agreed.

"I will ponder your counsel.

"All right, I'll act upon your advice.

And I pray that you are right. I don't think I could survive if I was wrong again.



OOC: I accuse Sweetcherrie => Brother Gulzar of Babylon, chief Gardener[/color=blue]

Edited by Vahktang

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Alcott emerges from the chapel calmer and with a sense of purpose. The abbey seems to settle its usual peaceful business again, and his day passes relatively uneventually. Word of Brother Benedicte's departure reaches him, and he frowns. Sending a quick prayer of blessing upon his brother, the monk concludes it must have been the unfounded suspicion of his fellows which caused Brother Benedicte to leave. I can only pray our numbers will not be further depleted before this is over... Hearing his own thoughts, Brother Alcott wonders what 'this' is and when it became something with a beginning and end. He finishes his day with a devout prayer that this will indeed be the end.


By the time breakfest has been served the next morning, news of the second death has spread like wildfire. Brother Alcott hears of it, and is deeply saddened. Brother Venancio...I did not even know him. Who among us is a killer? I hesitate to think it, but...surely Brother Venancio did not meet his end in such a manner without assistance. Slowly Alcott eats his breakfest, and thinks back on his reflections the previous day. But of course...it began with Brother Adelmo's death, and it could've ended with Brother Benedicte's leaving, though it saddens me to say it. Yes, that might've been the end, if it were not for this second death... If there had been any doubt in Brother Alcott's mind before, it is now clear that the Devil is at work within the abbey. Alcott trembles in his soul to think what the consequences will be, and reminds himself that a godly man has nothing to fear.


Immediatly after the meal, Alcott heads for the scriptorium, intending to lose himself in work. Despite his intentions and his desire not to cast suspicions on his brothers, however, thoughts steal into his mind. Perhaps...the servants, they are not devoted. And Brother Adrian is always involved with his bees...there has always been something strange about him...


OOC: Vote for Vahktang/Brother Adrian

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Brother Thibault never talked much during breakfast, carefully cutting his portions of bread and vegetable stew into tiny pieces that would not hurt his teeth. Brother Mathieu had wisely decided to make today a day without meat, after the horrors of the early morning. Still, Brother Thibault thought darkly, we are no holier-than-thou White Monks and someday we will have to eat meat again--otherwise there will be no slaughtered animals and no fresh skins! Those scribes would choose letters over life, without a doubt!--


He finished his meal as hastily as he was able and beckoned to Brother Phillips. "Would you assist me, brother, to the vellum workshops?" he said in a voice which carried across the room. Brother Phillips offered his arm for support, and the pair strolled carefully across the paths; the blacksmith monk had turned to the most direct route across the lawns, but Brother Thibault explained, "No, no, the stones are better footing for me. . .and you are going to your workshop, not mine." Their laughter was muted, but broke the strained mood, and the old monk began to wonder if he was foolish for refusing to be alone. He announced himself at the door of the vellum workshop and waited for Brother Jehan to realize that all those pigskins required the help of another, older craftsman.

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Time passes swiftly in an Abbey when there is much to do. Brother Caire buries himself in his appointed work, copying information from the Abbey archives.


Word of a second death shakes him to the core and after praying for the departed Brother Caire returns to his work alongside Brother Alcott.


It is not until that evening that the stories and rumours of who the killer must be reach him, and each one is felt like a blow to the soul that fellow monks should learn distrust so rapidly.


As Brother Caire prays and considers the sad events that have been occuring at the Abbey he wonders what these deaths have in common... precious little other than perhaps both needing significant strength of arms to accomplish, and so Brother Caire waits and watches to see who might have done these evil acts.


As he muses on this Brother Caire idley watches Brother Thibault walk off towards the vellum workshops with Brother Phillips the burley blacksmith... and he wonders.


OOC: Accuse Brother Phillips Hue / MTUFoolish because his character is big enough and strong enough to do it... and with lack of other evidence. :)

Edited by Gryphon

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Brother Rhys came from breakfast, his head bowed in grief.


He had been mistaken, he had been wrong. The one murder had not been a lone event. Another had occurred, and he feared that this may turn into a cycle, if the murderer was not found.


Sighing heavily, he thought of what he knew of the other monks and servants. It had to be one of them. The abbey was the only populated place for a great distance.


Brother Thibault immediately appeared in his mind, but he dismissed that thought, at least for the moment. He knew that much of the reason Thibault came first was because of his accusation. He also knew that personal feelings had no place in this, and that he ought to be ashamed of even thinking it. Certainly, they were monks of different orders, yet they both served for the Glory of God. Surely Thibault would understand this in time, rather than holding onto prejudice.


Brother Phillips Hue, the swordsmith . . . well, he seemed far too ready to make weapons (and for all Rhys knew, use them). Perhaps him? Sword smithying would certainly give one access to many devices of death. But it had been said that poison may have caused the death of Brother Venancius. Poison brewing swordsmiths? It didn't seem to fit.


Brother Adrian . . . yes, this was certainly a monk Rhys did not know what to think of. First he accused an innocent man, and caused many of the other Brothers to do the same. Rhys was certainly glad he did not follow this ill-guided man on that errant venture. And he never did say just how he "knew" that Brother Benedicte was the murderer, and had yet to confess to this question of reason even after Benedicte had been found blameless. Rhys knew that once again he was following his feelings, his desires to avenge the blameless man's departure from the abbey, but such desires led only to Satan and the Abyss. They were not proper for a monk, and were baseless.


Filipe? No, though he often seemed to be under punishment of one type or another, Brother Rhys felt that this was more likely of an unknowing nature, not entirely baseless, but due largely to misunderstanding. He just didn't seem the type.


Rhys paused on his way.


"Of course," he said to himself, "should any Brother in Christ be a murderer? I cannot trust my instinct in this, for obviously not all of these monks are as they choose to appear."


Ah, well. This Abbey appears to have many secrets among it's residents.


Brother Alcott was a mystery. He had heard from various monks that he had always been a copyist, much like Rhys. Indeed, he had even damaged his eyes through his fervant studying. Rhys would have to investigate his enigma of a Brother so that he might discover a true profile of his character.


Brothers Thomas and Joseph were also enigmas of their own kind. He had never met monks who had taken vows of silence before, and they disturbed him silightly because of this difference. Certainly they seemed devout enough, but, after all, they were monks! It was expected of them.


Good Bennet . . .


Rhys could hardly even bring himself to suppose guile of any sort on the part of that young man, but he had heard of people more mentally slow killing others for strange reasons which apparently made sense to them. He would have to watch out for Good Bennet then, even if he was a lesser intellect than the Abbey's other residents. Yet it still felt so wrong, so . . . evil to even consider such an innocent soul committing such heinious crimes.


Brother Caire. . . of all the monks at the Abbey, he seemed most similar to Rhys. More of a rational man, not blowing so easily in the winds of thought that seemed to gust through the Abbey in fits and bursts. Of all the other monks, only he and Rhys had considered Brother Benedicte innocent of any apparent crime. Perhaps he was correct in his thinking that Brother Phillips Hue was the perpetrator of these crime.


Rhys went on to the chapel, to pray to the Lord and ask for guidence in this matter, and especially in his choice.


(OOC: I also accuse Brother Phillips Hue, due to suspicions regarding him and another)


(EDIT: added then fixed text coloring :P)

Edited by Akallabeth

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"Felipe seems to be suspicious of someone, but won't say who."


"Brother Adrian is dropping the name of Brother Gulzar."


"There are rumours everywhere of Brother Phillips."


Francis shook his head sadly. "Adrian started rumours once, and is on his way to doing so again. I wondered the first time what benefit he would have to sowing suspicion, and I must wonder again."


"You think it might be he?"


"I do. He has no solid reasoning, does he?"


"Not about Gulzar, no.."


"He didn't about Benedicte either. I heard people questioning, and there were reasons given, but Adrian himself never explained the choice. And Gulzar? How much more innocent could you get? Are you going to tell me he snapped after too many people walked on his grass? No. He's capable of yelling, and not much more, to my estimation."


"Well, maybe. But it could be Brother Phillips, too."


"It could be nearly anyone. Think what you want - I think it's the Adrian fellow, if it's anyone here at all."



OOC: Vote for Vahktang - Brother Adrian

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Brother Igottafiln has been scribing in his personal ledger his impressions about the abby. His report should enlighten his superiors about the day to day way non pampered and padded children of God live. Although the recent string of incidents might prove the undoing of the abby. The swordsmith Brother Hue is being turned upon by his brothers. I do not believe the his heart has been swayed from the lord. His work is true and the fire keeps his faith strong. Brother Farhaven has been acting strangely, In my humble opinion he should be watched or banished from the temptation that must surely be present here. His soul may be in a struggle and we must do everything we can do to help him save his soul.




OOC. I accuse Brother Farhaven [Damon Inferel]

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Reasons, people needed reasons.

Therefore he would give them reasons.

A quiet word here, an observation there.

"He is strong and healthy, even in this winter. Strong enough to just about anything."

"He is knowlegable about plants. The healing herbs and what is safe to eat."

"Yes he is a pious and innocent man. But is he as the rest of us."


He would not bear false witness against another.

Nor say anything against them.

Just, ask questions.

And make observations.

The listeners own mind would draw the right conclusions.


And all this violence was affecting the calm and the peace of the monastery.

Even the bees were feeling it.

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The novice from the vellum workshops placed a few sheets into Brother Thibault's arms, then gently closed the door in his face. Instead of the daily rage, he slumped his shoulders (Wounded pride. He would need to pray) and looked out over the frightening, empty lawns. Not until Brother Gulzar came out to the lawns with a rake did he dare walk across the paths and enter the other building. Brother Adrian hurried past him with a bucket of beeswax for the chapel's use; two days of vigils had depleted the wax tapers badly, and the tallow candles were still cooling outside. Brother Thibault stopped to shake his head at the nets and veils, then peeked around the door of the scriptorium--two people, safe to enter.


Brother Caire was back at his desk with his simple pages, as was Brother Alcott with the pages for later illumination; Brother Rhys and the head copyist were not there. Brother Thibault stood in front of Brother Alcott's desk and again waited for him to sharpen his quill before coughing. "Brother. . .the head copyist is not here to record receipt of this vellum. Am I to stand here and hold these pages until he returns?"


Brother Alcott started from his chair, muttering, "Oh no, of course not, brother! Please, let me take those!" He stacked the vellum neatly on the corner of his desk, then sat down again and reached for a flat stone with a strange, solid quill attached by a string.


"Why are you using those?" asked Brother Thibault peevishly. He hated the slates. They were fine for monks who had taken vows of silence, who knew better than anyone that speech was unworthy of permanence, but the copyists should not dirty their fingers with it!


The slate squeaked as Brother Alcott wrote a few words in common print, but Brother Caire set his shoulders and continued to scribe, reciting the words a bit louder than was necessary. "It's a temporary record, brother," he soothed the old monk. "You can leave before the head copyist and Brother Rhys return," and looked Brother Thibault in the eyes.


"You're not frightened of him?"


"The Lord will protect me. . .but I do not need to be protected from him," Brother Alcott said simply, and dipped his pen into the inkpot. Brother Caire recited his parchment's "Amen" to carry throughout the room.


Brother Thibault shuffled along the corridor to his cell, greatly disturbed, and lowered himself to the floor to pray. The copyists had not whispered, like everyone had since the killings began. They were sure and in the grace of the Lord--Brother Thibault added his blessing, however weak, to that. He could not bless Brother Rhys, not yet, but he could think upon his face while praying, and his mind roved through the abbey, alighting upon the faces as he knew them before all this began. Good Bennet he remembered as an infant, some of the monks almost as old as he showed their faces as teenaged novices, and the strangers gave raw impressions. Brother Thibault prayed for protection for every face he could remember.


OOC: accusing Brother Adrian.

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Brother Gulzar had thoroughly enjoyed himself in the garden today, he had even managed to make his beloved lawn just that little bit nicer.

Felipe had been a good help, and although he had been grumbling below his breath all day, he too had a healthy blush around his cheeks.


Together they walked back to the toolshed to put away the rake and wheelbarrow they had been working with.

They were passing Brother Adrian's beehives, when suddenly Felipe stopped.


"Brother Gulzar," he whispered, "do you hear that sound?"


Brother Gulzar stood still to listen what sound Felipe might have meant.


"I don't hear anything but the buzzing of the bees, my son."


"No it's different..."


Felipe walked silently towards the hive room, bees flying all around his head. As Felipe approached the buzzing grew louder.


"It almosts sounds as if there is someone talking in there..."


Brother Gulzar walked over to where Felipe was standing and noticed that the novice was right, a quiet whisper was coming from the hive room.


".....Yes, he is strong, .....gardener....poisons...but he can't..."


The whispers from the hive room were hardly audible.


"I think they are talking about you-"


Felipe had been whispering, but Brother Gulzar had put a finger to his lips, if they were talking about him he wanted to hear the rest, even if it was a sin.


"All right, I'll act upon your advice."


After these last words Brother Gulzar knew enough, He nodded Felipe to follow him.


They walked away from the hive room, and it wasn't untill they were inside the toolshed that Felipe spoke, "I don't believe it was you Brother Gulzar...I..."


It wasn't necesairy for him to finish his sentence, they both knew what he was talking about.


Brother Gulzar smiled, "Thank you Felipe....I also know that it wasn't me, but unfortunately somebody thinks differently..."


"Thank you for your efforts today, Felipe, you may go and get yourself cleaned up before vespers."


Happy to be relieved from his duties, and from not having to continue this conversation, Felipe ran away towards the abbey.


Brother Gulzar stayed in the toolshed, mindlessly moving the tools, the words he had heard sang through his brain.


"Last time it was also Brother Adrian who had started the rumours, he is so fast with accusing others.....I wonder if he has something to hide..."


OOC: I accuse Vahktang - Brother Adrian


edit: typo

Edited by Sweetcherrie

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Francis rushed along the corridors. He had a message to deliver to Brother Joseph. Emanating from nearly every occupied room were whispers, speculations, accusations. Most were quite audible for the moment he passed. It was almost getting tiresome, all this gossip.


"...knowlegable about plants..." came a snippet of Brother Adrian's words. Francis slowed, turning around again and standing quietly by the open door, just beyond sight. "...herbs and what is safe to eat." Adrian, still spreading suspicion of Gulzar. But voicing a tangible explanation.


"We don't know that it was poison."


"No, we don't know anything. The monk paused, as if thinking. Then added, "I heard the herbalist saying it was, though. And it's obvious the murderer must be strong."


"There are many who are strong."


"Like I said, I don't know any more than you. He is pious and, we have all believed, innocent. But someone has committed these murders. I simply observe that he had the knowledge, the means, maybe even the will. But come, let us get back to lighter matters."


"You may be right. But yes, the wax. Why don't you show me what you mean?" There was the sound of someone standing up, and Francis immediately started walking again. His heart beat quickly. The other servant had told him Adrian had no reasons this time, either. Perhaps he hadn't. Perhaps he picked up other's explanations. Or perhaps he knew something this time. Francis shook himself. "It doesn't stop the fact that he was one of the first to accuse Benedicte, and then he had no reason!" he muttered.


"What was that, young man?"


Francis turned slowly, his heart jumping nearly out of his chest. What he saw, though, was simply one of his peers, grinning and shaking with mirth.


"Yegods, James, you nearly killed me with fright!" Francis playfully punched his friend on the shoulder. "Come on, help me take this message. I've got some more information..." They walked along the corridor, taking the opportunity to chat. Speculation is much more fun when one is directly involved, after all.

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To the High Inquisitor;

It is my opinion that Brother Adrain is both pious and devout. He has somehow managed to gain the unflattering attention of his fellow brothers. I hope Vices do not grip the entire abby. May your travels be smooth.

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Brother Thomas, shocked not only by the fact that Adrian had made such a rude statement to him prior, but even more so by his quickness to accuse him of such unspeakable acts, was deep in prayer for poor Adrian's soul. It was obvious that the young man had been led astray, and had fallen from grace. Though it would not do to make accusations, nor was it his place- it was in God's hands now. Perhaps it would be best to prove the young man's innocence by sending him away.. Perhaps he should suggest that to the Abbot..


Perhaps. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Always perhaps. Another brother having been poisoned, now was not the time for indecision.


Yes, he would suggest that to the Abbot. May the almighty father have mercy on my soul, he mused... Yet, was he reacting in haste and anger? Certainly young Adrian had wronged against him. And certainly, he had been quick to accuse.


No, there must have been a reason for his quick accusation, and his careless barb. And so, he must report his suspicions to the Abbot.


((OOC: Accusation is for Vahktang/Adrian)

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By Vesper, the buzz amid the servants, and the suspicions among the monks, has grown to intolerable levels for an Abbey. The Sermon that night is given by the Abbot, reminding all of them that Judgement is reserved to God, and that the Devil himself is tempting those who spread words of accusation, thinking that it's done for the ultimate good of the Abbey.


"I won't point at any of you, nor call you in private. But those of you who have sinned know it deep in your heart, and will appoint penances for themselves."


After a few more minutes the sermon is over, and the chorus once more lifts all their souls towards Heaven.



It's soon after Compline that, once more, a monk looks for the Abbot looking for Absolution. A look at the deathly pale face and sunken eyes reveals a deep despair, but strangely enough there is an almost eerie calm in his eyes. A minute later, the Abbot pales himself as he hears what has brough this Brother to him.


"I know one of those who killed. And why."


He doesn't allow the Abbot to say a word, telling what he knows in an ordely, serene way, but underlined with deep sorrow and anguish.


"They believe our Library keeps dangerous secrets - heretic, dark books devised under knowledge revealed by the Devil. They think it is wrong to let this knowledge spread, and so the Library must be closed to all. They say our Lord has laid upon them to keep the Secret, and so they are sending to His judgement those who have sinned by defying the edict that only the Librarian and his assistant are to enter the Labyrinth."


"Brother, you are saying that..."


"Father... I understand we shouldn't speak of that, but both of us know that there are several Brothers that dared entering the Labyrinth. Even one or other novice has at least harbored the intention to. And the Brothers who have sworn themselves as Protectors of the Library have taken a vow to silence those who did what was forbidden."


None of them notice that, whispered as this Confession is, there's a shadow hidden by a secret door that listens intently to all that's said.


"I don't know their numbers, but Brother Adrian is one of them. Father, please take whatever measure is necessary... I have sealed your lips in Confession, but I know there's an Inquisitor coming. I trust he may help you. Or maybe Brother William of Baskerville, to whom our Lord has given an intellect able to discover things that are hidden to all others."


"Brother... but how do you know all this... you put a heavy burden on my shoulders, if I have to ask an Inquisitor to question an innocent..."


The monk draws a deep sigh, and sinks lower on his knees.



When they part, almost an hour after they've met, it's the Abbot who bears a deathly pale face. The words still ring in his mind, dreadful, sinful.


I have also sinned, and maybe beyond Absolution, Father. What I have told you, I learned from Brother Adrian's own lips, under the Seal of Confession.


"We are doomed... have mercy on us, Lord... " he whispers in prayer before the altar.




Not much later, three of the strongest servants accompany the Abbot as he goes to Brother Adrian and invites him to move to one of the cells in the basement of the smithy, where he will be confined to until the arrival of the Inquisitor.


And, as those servants even under a vow of secrecy found a way to whisper their news, and as news of that kind have a life and speed of their own, soon most of the Abbey knows of Brother Adrian's imprisonment - although no one knows of the means that led to it.



OOC: Congratulations, Brother Adrian/Vahktang was one of the fanatics (=wolves). As explained in the first post, we are working with the possibility of turning and I won't reveal the number of wolves. So, don't take the plural as meaning anything ;)


Thus, Wolves/Seer/Baner you have 24 hours from this time-stamp to send me your targets. It's Night Phase. You are free to RP all the whispers and reactions, but no accusations/speculation please.


Please, there are some important RP instructions at the OOC thread. Please read that! :)

Edited by Tanuchan

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(OOC: Sorry all, RL tooked me away from RP).


Brother Mathieu is shocked when he heard upon the late news. He couldn't believe of what he heard. The Library... what's in there about it? What the Inquisition will make of these bizarre events? Brother Gulzar pasts by Mathieu, disrupting his thoughts.


- Oh, Brother Gulzar. I was so lost in my thoughts.


- You're not the only one, Brother Mathieu. It seems that there's more behind these events than whoever is responsible of them wants us to see.


- I have a hard time to make do with this. I'm worried that these events and the Inquisition might disrupt the peace in the Abbey for good.


Both monks sighs and returns to their respective quarters after sharing their usual wishes.


- May God guides us all through this...

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It started with some whispers, voices carrying down dark corridors, overheard conversations that should never have passed the lips.


No-one knew quite why, when or how it had unfolded, but all seemed to know that Brother Adrian was being held for questioning by the inquisitor on his arrival...


Some Brothers walked around looking ill, almost like corpses themselves, some servants only interrupted their almost gleeful whispers when someone walked by who might overhear them.


Brother Caire looked sick, his mind playing again and again the words that he'd overheard. "Brother Adrian... imprisoned... heretic... strange, talks to bees...", Brother Caire takes refuge in that which is familiar, shortly thereafter Brother Caire joined several of his fellow, like minded Monks in the chapel in prayer for Poor Brother Adrian's soul, and in hope, that this should bring the end to the devil's interferance in the life of the Abbey.

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Brother Gulzar was praying for the souls of beloved Brother Adelmo and Brother Venancio, that their spirits would be lifted to heaven, carried by angels. He had once before met an angel. He let his mind drift back to that evening.


Brother Gulzar peeped around the corner, he was on his way to the library, and didn't want to be discovered, so close to his target.


He knew that it was prohibited to enter the library, and he also knew that he would probably not be able to find his way around, but the rumours had lured him from safety, they said there would be heretic books in that library.


Brother Gulzar was hoping to find information on his favourite subject, grass.

When he worked in the hanging gardens in Babylon he had met this Arab from the Gulf, who had told him of his meeting with King James IV of Schotland.

Apparently this King James had invented a different way of using grass, he used it to play a game with something the Arabian man had called 'golves'.

Brother Gulzar remembered every word the man had said, and was now hoping to find information on this heretic game in one of these satanic books.

He tried to forget that it was a sin to play games in the time that was supposed to be devoted to God, but he couldn´t withstand the hypnotical attraction of forbidden knowledge.


He carefully edged around the corner, and saw the entrance in front of him.


"This doesn´t look so difficult and dangerous," he thought while he passed the threshold, "Now where would they have put those books?"


He glanced down the rows of books, and saw the light of his candle reflected against the walls. The shadowgames that were formed on the walls and ceiling, gave him an eerie feeling. He shuffled slowly forward, careful not to make any noise.


A weird scent hung in the air, and when he stepped around a corner he startled, it was only his presence of mind that stopped him from screaming.


There was a woman standing in front of him, she was beautiful, had long golden hair, and Brother Gulzar decided that God had never created a more perfect body. Silvery light was surounding the woman, and she was holding her arms out to him.


"This must be an angel," he thought and, as sinful thoughts filled his head, he stepped forward and let her arms embrace him.


He had stood there for half an hour in her warm embrace, thinking all diabolic things, when he suddenly noticed that it was growing colder.

He opened his eyes and glanced around, the woman had dissapeared, and he was standing alone in the middle of the bookfilled cabinets.


He felt his blood rising to his head, and turned around, filled with shame.

When he finally found back his room, he lied down on his bed, but instead of sleepin he dreamed all sorts of hellish dreams.


Brother Gulzar shook his head to release the memory, and focused on his prayers, trying hard to forget his sinfull deed.



OOC: changed the post to fit with description in OOC thread.

Edited by Sweetcherrie

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Good Bennet tried to concentrate on what he was doing, but he kept finding himself pulling out the sheet of vellum Father Thibault had helped him make. He knew that he shouldn't handle it too much, he might wreck it and it would be wrong to ruin a part of God's Plan. Vellum was apparently an important part of God's Plan. Father Thibault had told him so. Bennet wondered what else was part of God's Plan. He should ask Father Thibault next time he saw him.


Flowers, maybe? Flowers were pretty like vellum and Father Gulzar knew all about flowers. Weeds, too, but Good Bennet was pretty sure that weeds weren't a part of God's Plan. Father Gulzar had said so, Bennet thought. Maybe he should ask again. Or he could ask Father Mathieu. He knew about flowers too.


As he pondered this, he overheard one of the other monks talking about Father Adrian and something about his bees. Good Bennet looked up from his vellum. Did the bees get out again? He remembered that last time that'd happened. One of them had stung him and OH! did that ever hurt. Bees probably weren't a part of God's Plan either. Maybe. Bennet could ask Father Adrian about that, but he was a little afraid of Father Adrian. One of the servants (Francis, was it?) had told him that Father Adrian kept bees inside his bee-suit. Good Bennet tried to listen for buzzing the next time he'd seen Father Adrian, but maybe they were just being quiet.


Maybe Father Alcott knew more about God's Plan. He could read, so he must know lots of stuff. And books were made of vellum, so they must be part of God's Plan. There were lots of books in the library and they were pretty to look at, but Good Bennet wasn't allowed in there. The one time he'd gone, he'd gotten horribly lost and he thought he'd never find his way out of there until the Librarian found him.


Good Bennet shivered at that thought. Quickly, he put his vellum away and got back to work. Of course, it wasn't long, though, before he stopped and snuck another quick look at his vellum.

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Adrian went without a fight, meek and compliant, almost relieved.

He thought he could convince the Abbot of the design, and the Library would be sealed without any more problems.

Then he was surprised when the Abbot said he was to turn him over to the inquisition.

How would care for his bees?

When none would come forward, he began to scream to the world hoping some would hear, some would care.

"Don't Be Fooled By the First Brush of Spring. Often a Cold Snap Can Occur and almost Wreck a Hive."

And the instructions continued.

He knew from his interaction with the Abbot that his justification would have to wait for higher powers.

Surely they would listen, they would cause the closing of the Library.

He continued his instructions, so that all could hear.

"The stones on the winter storage are tight but not sealed. You can loose them for air on the warmer winter days, allowing egress. But away from the high winds."

And on and on through the night.

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