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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

WW XXXIV - Artistic Rivalries


Ayshela

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Cornelia looked at Ebenizer with an exasperated sigh.

 

"A manuscript? People are dying and you worry about manuscripts?"

 

Ebenizer gave her a hurt look - the one she had always associated with a puppy caught breaking his house-training. And as always, she ended up patting him and shaking her head.

 

"Never mind... I know, your inspiration comes from the strangest things sometimes... tell me, do those Care Bears™ Pajamas give you something else besides nightmares?" She looked at the pajamas, this time catching Grumpy Bear looking at her. Gods, those cheery bears got in her nerves... but Ebby had ignored the polka-dotted new ones she'd left on his bed. Or maybe he had never noticed them, who knows what he had in his mind sometimes...

 

 

Cornelia brushed away Ebby's answer, shifting her attention to Tremere, Parlare, her last work that used crumpled plastic sheets on top of plastic tubing. It actually trembled with the slightest draft, which had given her the name. It didn't talk, of course, though the soft sound of crumpling plastic had some ring to it. Ebenizer had complained about the name, to which she had just answered something about Art not caring for grammar or language rules.

 

The shape of the clouds she could see through the window gave her a sudden inspiratioin, and she reached out for the cotton swabs she had picked earlier during the week. While working with them and paint, she also let her mind consider the deaths related to the contest.

 

No one would really do it.... or...? And... where was that insufferable conceited artist during all this? Though at least he didn't try to destroy any other of my sculptures, and LilySpider is safely away from passer-byes... Mmm... now, I need something else to put here... let me see... I think I saw some interesting patchwork left-overs lying around...

 

 

~~~~

OOC: Vote again for Verileah/Milo. Sorry, busy weekend for me too :P

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Milo looked over his shoulder for the fourth time in the past two minutes, then spun fully around, pretending a piece had caught his attention. He didn’t miss the look two of his helpers exchanged, though – it looked as though his cool façade was beginning to crack and show its paranoid, insecure undertones.

 

Deciding it didn’t matter what they, or anyone else, thought, he walked back to the photograph that had caught his eye, finding that it actually was sort of interesting, in that ‘so bad it was good’ sort of way. He tilted his head to one side, then looked at the placard next to the image.

 

Interesting.

 

Not knowing what to make of this fellow or his work, he elected to have a smoke break and mull over matters outside. Security was being touchier than ever and arrogant as Milo was, he still didn’t think he could pull off any flagrant displays without getting thrown out on his ear. It was while he was pacing back and forth, cigarette in hand, that he noticed the spray painted tags that dominated the outer wall. Hadn’t this latest murder happened outside the gallery?

 

/ooc voting for Mith/DC

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No one was especially surprised that not all the artists were in their places when the Gallery opened again. After all, they'd been seen wandering about, coming in late, or leaving early the whole time. It wasn't until mid-afternoon that someone noticed Milo's protracted absence. Several curious and/or concerned questions to Officer Craig sent him off to find Milo - or to try to. There was no answer at his home. A search of his home (warrant in hand, of course) produced no Milo, and no clue where he might have gone. His car was parked in its usual place. No one remembered seeing him after Gallery closing, and no one remembered anything more than his usual near-paranoia.

 

Milo had completely disappeared.

 

OOC: randomness determines that the lynching victim is Verileah/Milo, innocent villager.

 

It is now Night Phase. Specials, please PM your targets. Scorecard in the OOC thread.

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The evening wore on, distracted people rushing about or wandering aimlessly, whispered conferences sharing ideas of where Milo might have gone or complete confusion as to what might have happened to him. No one paid attention to Giles sitting back quietly reading his book. The few who stopped to chat on their way out for the day were simply told he hadn't finished the chapter, and then ignored.

 

Officer Craig forced his temper back down and kept from slamming the gallery door behind him. Yet another crashing sound outside, and yet again no one there and nothing to see. Yet again a crashing sound from INside while he was OUTside, and yet again... no, this time there was someone there and something to see - someone who needed an ambulance.

 

The ambulance left with the sheet-covered body of Giles, found head and shoulders underneath one of his sculptures with a rainbow torn from a magazine advertisement clutched in his hand. Officer Craig did not believe the falling sculpture explained all the bruises, or the blow to the side of Giles' head.

 

OOC: Giles Jordan, innocent villager, was killed by the wolf. It is now DAY PHASE. Lock in your votes before 6pm Thursday please.

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Ebenizer was writing and as such didn't notice he was one of the last ones still in the gallery. Just as he was refilling his pen with ink, he was interrupted by crashing noises from the other end of the gallery. A large ink blob all over the table and, worse, his new manuscript, made him swear so loudly and viciously that it even shocked himself - he'd never known he knew those words!

 

Still something had happened, and Ebenizer ran after officer Craig to see what it was. When he saw, though, he ran even faster ... this time towards the restrooms.

 

When he came back, slightly pale, officer Craig took him aside for some questions. With the combined shock of losing his manuscript and seeing a dead Giles, it didn't take long for Ebenizer to lose his temper.

 

"I don't know what's worse - that we're being killed one by one, that I just lost a whole day of work, or that we're being treated as suspects here!"

 

With that, he stormed off, not stopping to pick up his tools and slamming the gallery door behind him.

 

OOC : Waitwaitwait, there's only one wolf? Holding vote until that very important matter is cleared up ... (not that it'll change much ... :P )

*slow*

 

Thank you :flower:

In that case : vote for Tanuchan / Cornelia

Polka-dotted pajamas, huh?? :P

Edited by Venefyxatu
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Cornelia kept her hands busy with a family of battered rubber ducks that she had been trying to coerce into a small rubber... something... for some hours already.

 

Mmmm... Giovanni's Bathtub isn't coming out as it should... maybe if I change the point of view... Why did I have to get inspiration from that movie?

 

She discarded the rubber recipient and reached out for some scissors. After a couple seconds staring at them, she shrugged and put them back into the drawer. No, the ducks must be whole...

 

Sudden inspiration hit her, and she checked whether Ebenizer was around. Seeing he was not, she stealed into his bedroom and got the pants of his Care Bears™ Pajamas. Ever so carefully she cut the legs of the pajamas pants, put the cut out pieces back into the drawer, and went back to her table carrying the upper part. With a smile, she restarted working on Giovanni's Bathtub.

 

 

Mmm... funny thing... one of the last things Giles mumbled yesterday when I last saw him was something about disgusting pics... and he criticized rather strongly Ed's pictures. And those pictures are disgusting, no doubt... even that attempt to steal my LilySpider as a work of art!

 

Well, maybe not steal, but use it without giving me credit...

 

Disgusting pictures... that last one of a rotten tooth... a rotten mind?

 

She blinked, scolding herself for letting her mind wander so far. Artists wouldn't have rotten minds!

 

~~~~~~~~

OOC: Vote for Finnius/Ed the Fish

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The whole killing of artists was getting to DC's nerves, somehow he was puzzled he was still alive, reason telling him to leave the damn contest while he was still alive, no point in leaving in a big black plastic bag....

 

Anyway DC was not to leave, at least not for now, when he was so close to winning, but that arouse another question.... if he was not the one responsible for the killings then, he would be become a target before winning....unless, yes, unless... unless they were able to catch the killer....

 

ooc: vote for Venefyxatu - Ebinezer Marlend

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OOC: dang. You all really LIKE the tied votes, don't you? =)

 

Since none of the votes came in until this morning, I'll leave this until evening for further votes before resorting to dice again.

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Ed once again roamed the earth - or at least that small part of it inhabitted by an art gallery where, apparently, artists were showing up dead on a disturbingly frequent basis. Really, Ed didn't much care about the art world - he'd been told often enough that he was no artist, and the tiny part of his soul that didn't believe that was generally off running errands when Ed came calling - but the fact that people were being killed and he was now being looked at as a suspect was rather vexing, to say the least.

 

Oh well, the show must go on.

 

Ed passed another of that Chesterfield woman's pieces, noting the rubber ducks, and shrugged his way past. Something was nagging at him, and it wasn't just his sore tooth, or the vaguely condescending snickers that followed him. It had to be one of the artists - either that or a psychopath with a taste for oil paints. But who could be doing this? Who had the... the... nefarious... ness...

 

And then Ed realized who the only person with a name for pure, unadulterated evil was. It was as good a guess as any.

 

OOC - A vote for Venefyxatu - Ebinezer Marlend

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After storming out of the art gallery, Ebenizer walked a few blocks at a brisk pace to calm down again. He was just about to start heading back, figuring he'd be completely calm again by the time he got to the gallery, when it started raining. Muttering a few choice words like "shucks" and "golly", Ebenizer started running. The rain looked like it'd continue falling for the rest of the day, and in spite of the risk of getting killed, he didn't want to leave his work alone for too long. After all, if someone didn't mind killing the other artists, they'd have no problem with destroying the art, either ...

 

Just as he got back to the door, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. With another muttered "flehh", he entered the gallery and stayed near the heating in an attempt to dry himself up a little ...

 

OOC : Changing vote to Finnius / Ed the Fish.

Edited by Venefyxatu
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Visitors to the Gallery were almost a rare occurence now. Thus far, whatever was killing people had settled for artists and a city worker, but no one wanted to risk being caught in a case of mistaken identity. The artists kept a wary eye on each other, not wanting to look paranoid but not wanting to be the next casualty either.

 

Lunch time came with little fanfare. There was no change in the number of visitors, since the one person in the gallery neither seemed hungry nor in a hurry to get back to work, and the lunch hour brought no one in. There was no one to join her in frightened screaming as Ebenizer dropped his mug of soup, then joined it on the floor.

 

Officer Craig rushed in, calling for an ambulance as he came over to Ebenizer. He was still breathing, though barely. Officer Craig grabbed a bag and latex gloves so he could gather the pieces of Ebenizer's shattered mug and as much of the remaining soup as possible before the paramedics arrived. "Poisoning a man's soup - that's just wrong," he muttered as he sealed the bag.

 

The paramedics took Ebenizer and the gallery visitor to the hospital - he for suspected poisoning, she for shock.

 

OOC: One of these days the tied votes are going to end up in the death of one of the specials. I'm amazed it hasn't happened already!

 

Ebenizer was hospitalized by poisoned chicken soup. He was an innocent villager.

 

It is now Night Phase - specials, PM me your targets. You have until 6pm Monday. =)

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In a brief, fleeting moment of consciousness Ebenizer tried to open his eyes, then quickly gave up as it not only felt impossible, but the mere thought made him nauseous again. Before he passed out again he thought, "Poisoned soup? That is so un-cool it's not even funny ..."

 

OOC : Sorry, couldn't help it :P

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Everyone was late coming in the next day, as if they saw their dwindling numbers and hesitated long enough to decide whether they wanted to risk even being there. Officer Craig was alone in the building, taking the opportunity to thoroughly search for any signs of further danger - or any clues to what was behind the "accidents" so many of the artists had suffered. Having found nothing conclusive in the main part of the gallery, he made his way back toward the staff room to call in his report.

 

Well, he started back. There was some sort of whimper and a faint thumping noise coming from the closet nearest the staff room. Even with daylight streaming in the doorway he didn't immediately see anyone. He almost mistook the crumpled figure on the floor for someone's carelessly discarded coat. He bent over and touched her arm. Her swift ascent into screaming, flailing hysterics took him by surprise and he fell back, blocking the doorway. He caught her as she rose and tried to bolt through the door - through him - and recognized her as the Mayor's secretary. What she was doing there was unclear, as was how she had gotten locked into the closet. She'd never have walked into it. It was well known that she was claustrophobic, and some had suspected she was still afraid of the dark. (Not that many people weren't, lately.)

 

However long she'd been trapped there, it had been long enough to push her right over the edge. Officer Craig called for an ambulance and did his best to keep her safely restrained without hurting her.

 

As they wheeled her away, sedated but still mumbling, he sighed heavily. One more already, and the gallery was barely open for the day. He braced himself against the creeping dread of it being a very long and anxious day.

 

 

OOC: No PC kill this night phase. You've one lynching left to find the wolf. I'll close this one out Saturday night. Happy hunting! =)

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Strolling down the street after having breakfast at noon, DC was quite thoughtful, aparently his last work would not work as he had expected.

 

The dozens of white silloutes he had painted in the ground and buildings nearby the museum, all were empty, as this morning there had been no kill.

 

Felling disapointed and somehow happy, as he might as well been the victim, he wandered back to the museum.

 

Most of the Galleries where closed, his had always been from the start, the only two remaining where... well, can that be called art? DC made a short disaproval smile.

 

And there is was, the most ugly ashtray one can think of, Cornellia's works.... and that last one, what was that exactly? And Cornelia itself? where was she? well, better of away from me DC thought, she is so, so, annoying in her little and simple way to think...hmmm sometimes, simple ideas are dangerous...

 

ooc: vote for Tanuchan - Cornelia Chesterfield

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Cornelia looked around the exhibit precinct with a disgusted face. Most of the art was of dubious quality, though she had to admit there had been good ones, and at least one new artist that had been promising.

 

She looked across the corridor, to where Ebenizer had been exposing. She kept her anger under strict control - Ebby had been such a tender creature! Unexpectedly, the image of the Care Bears™ Pajamas crossed her mind, along with a thought - finally I can get rid of it - and she had to stifle an almost hysterical giggling.

 

Turning to her sculptures, she saw DC staring at her. She held his gaze, her face suddenly stony.

 

So quiet... never a work in here. Those white sillouettes... must have been him. Expecting a kill, then?

 

 

She turned her back to him. Ed the Fish still troubled her, and now she didn't know what to think of DC either. Pursing her lips, she just shrugged and caressed her latest work with a distant look in her eyes.

 

 

~~~~~~

 

OOC: vote for Mithrandin/DC

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As Cornelia stared at DC, Ed stared at Cornelia - it wasn't really a planned staring, more one of those times where you're wandering around looking at pictures and happen to turn a corner, and oh look, there's some daggers being stared in the general direction of... someone.

 

Ed paused, scratched the back of his head, then sighed as Cornelia turned to caress her latest work. One of them, he was sure, was behind all this trouble, but the question was, which one? Cornelia was a little bit off her rocker to be sure, what with the making art out of ashtrays and perfectly good sleeping trousers and such, but then... what artist wasn't a little bit crazy?

 

On the other hand, DC seemed almost too sane, and wasn't it always the quiet ones who snapped? But then, meaningful looks full of daggers could be a sign that they were both in on it! Ha! Of course... if they both were, Ed didn't stand a chance. So better to assume only one. Either way, too big a question for poor Ed.

 

And so, he rummaged around in his pocket for a moment, pulled out a shiny quarter, and asked George Washington.

 

OOC - The coin has spoken! (Really, I flipped.) DC - Mith! (Though it was actually Queen Elizabeth, not George Washington, since alls I got is Canadian money. God save the Queen!)

Edited by Finnius
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