The clock strikes twelve. The gong of the grandfather clock in the foyer tolls out the time in slightly unnecessarily obnoxious loud noises. The ambiance of this old mansion demands respect, care, awe --
Okay, no, wait, why are you even in this stupid dusty house?
No reasons are forthcoming, because everyone knows that people just end up in places like this sometimes. That's just how the narrative device works. The hows and the whys don't matter -- all that matters is that you're all here, so you'd better get cracking and start exploring, because it's not like you can leave yet.
Or ever, maybe.
 Good day, sirs and madams. Might I interest you in a nice glass of blood...y mary?
|
PHASE I [ 02 15 ] All you see is white. The crash of thunder hits your ears next, punctuated by the piercing pitch of white noise in the background. After a few blinks, your vision comes back to you. Oh good, glad that you’ve joined us in the land of the living. Unlike the nondescript corpse at your feet – it looks like… a butler? Oh dear. You’ve already killed Murder Suspect Number One in most situations. How terribly ironic.
After all, who could’ve killed him but you? You might not remember, but there is definitely a murder weapon in your hand. It’s probably a knife or a poisoned glass of wine or-
Wait, is that a toaster? A full on toaster? Or maybe it’s a taser. Maybe you bludgeoned this poor guy with an entire encyclopedia. Either way, it looks like your murder weapon is a little unconventional, whether it’s a stranger’s pair of underwear or a hair curler. Are you really supposed to believe you committed a murder with these? (Yes.)
That said in the next second the double doors will be opening up. It’s pretty clear you’re not alone. Think quick!
PHASE II [ 0600 ] Exploring more around the compound, you’ll find plenty of those tall, oil portraits of people hung around the walls. When you start walking, they’re all strangers. However by the time that you feel like you’re wandering around for an hour, two hours, they might start looking a little bit more… familiar? Mom? Is that you?
You don’t have time to think about that, though. You were clearly framed! You don't’ have a motive for killing some random NPC –
“Or do you?” a portrait will ask.
Oh. Holy shit. Well it’d just be rude to leave, right? Whether you stick around for conversation or not, you’ll find that was just the beginning. The portraits are going to start grilling you. Welcome to CERES Central’s Roast of You. What was your motive? Don’t you know you should respect the servants? How would you feel if you were caught like that? Careful turning your back on them though, because if you ignore them for too long, the subjects in the portraits may just reach out and snatch you to join them in their portrait world.
At that point, the only way to get out is to swap places with some other poor, unsuspecting soul wandering around.
PHASE III [ 1045 ] You know what makes me hungry? Murder.
What’s the point of making a mansion this big anyway? Who’s even here? Either way, whether you’re looking for the kitchen to make a fine post-homicide sandwich or just trying to escape, you’ll eventually make it to a stairwell. The most finicky stairwell ever. Is that a trail of bloody footprints leading up the steps? What? No. Stop it, just climb.
Or well – don’t climb too quickly now. The staircases apparently have a mind of their own, swapping from one doorway to another. You definitely haven’t seen this before. It would seem that these stairs might even be interested in keeping you in a circle forever, no concern for whether or not you’re hungry or, god forbid, need to use the restroom.
However the portraits in the stairwell will provide a little tip: “The stairs are gossips, you know. Why don’t you tell us a little something about yourself? Make it good!”
Weirdly enough, sound advice – that is, if you’re interested in shouting out your most embarrassing secrets into the void so a mansion can keep talking shit about you. Oh well. Your alternative is just being a stair golem. There are worse fates.
PHASE IV [ 1430 ] This hall is oddly quiet.
Well, until you hear it – the soft sniffles coming from down the hall, the broken sobs. It sounds like someone’s crying. For one reason or another, your footsteps take you forward – there’s really no point in going back now after all, right? Yet as you continue to walk… walk… walk… the crying becomes louder and louder. More desperate, more despaired. In time, it’s clear that this person is wailing, screaming, “How could this happen?!”
Within the span of a breath, all the lights in the hallway go out, leaving you in pitch black.
It occurs to you then that you hear a second set of steps. When did you stop walking? A cold chill runs down your spine and you find yourself running then, despite the fact that it feels like this pitch black hallway goes on forever. The other footsteps pick up, remind you that you’re not alone. No, certainly not.
Best hope that you find some assistance soon – otherwise it looks like the Butler Association is going to ignite some righteous vigilante justice on your ass.
BONUS [ why o'clock ] You’re in the grand ballroom now, ready to present your case. Armed with a cob pipe (don’t smoke inside, it’s rude), a detective hat, and a single spotlight aimed right at you, you now have to explain how you came to the conclusion about the True Killer that is Obviously Not You. Rather, it’ll just be the character of whoever tags into this prompt – yes, you are suddenly so very sure that they’re the ones who are the ultimate mastermind of this entire game and… you’re just going to have to bullshit the reason why even if you know virtually nothing about them. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, you know?
Sorry about that.
Should you actually provide enough of a compelling case or they take pity on you, having a villainous breakdown for the sake of the plot, you’ll be awarded with a coupon that’ll give you three free scoops at your local ice cream parlor! (Note: you must buy the first two scoops in order to qualify.) Of course, if you’re not able to nail them down as the killer, you are obviously the killer yourself (citation needed).
From there, you’ll be dragged off to face your punishment: for six grueling hours you will be tickled mercilessly.
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
dwyer | fire emblem fates
[ Dwyer can be competitive, but 1. only when his father is involved and 2. he would never take it this far. Besides, what reason would he have to kill a supposed fellow servant? That would mean more work for him, ugh. He turns toward the open door, and holds up a baguette as he shrugs. ]
Don't look at me like that. It's stale, but not that stale.
[ Stale bread only has Mt 3, for gods' sakes. ]
phase ii; daaaaaad whyyyyy
[ Fatherly scolding and arguing is something he deals with all the time since joining Corrin's army, so this is easy enough for him to shrug off. The painting thing? Not so much. This portrait can't possibly be his father because Jakob is truly too damn stubborn to simply let anyone turn him into a talking painting.
(A part of him, the more sentimental part of him he doesn't like to admit, believes, no, knows that Jakob has more faith in him than accuse him of cold-blooded murder right off the bat, even if they're both terrible at showing that faith.) ]
Give me a break...I can't muster the motivation to argue with you when you're the way you are right now. You don't even have a third dimension.
"Of all the—!"
[ Cutting painting-Jakob off, Dwyer sighs, and turns to the nearest actual, three-dimensional person. ]
Do you happen to have a curtain or something I can smother him with?
phase iv; is it time for guard stance???
[ Fortunately, his vision in the dark isn't all too bad; chalk it up to his own living space in the Deeprealms, and how he might have even preferred it that way. He finds the darkness and gloom a bit soporific, which isn't really doing him any favors when the crying is getting louder the farther he walks, and then hears another set of footsteps.
That almost never bodes well. ]
Who's there? You've got a lot of nerve, trying to sneak up on me in the dark like that.
[ (Even if they weren't actually "sneaking"...) He's hoping they're a friend and not foe. If they happen to be the latter...well, he's got some steel daggers under his cloak and in his thigh holster and knows how to use them. ]
Phase II
No curtain unfortunately. I would say I could just burn the portrait down for you, but I suspect you don't want to watch an effigy of your father burning.
[Hopefully not. It seemed like a morbid idea at the very least.]
no subject
[ Gods...and ghosts can't even be shut up unless they're like, exorcised. ]
Maybe the paint can be washed away...
[ ...But then that might be even creepier. Imagine a painting of your father, animated as you pour water on it and watch him "melt"... ]
no subject
[He taps his chin for a moment.]
Maybe if we just flip him around. That way he could take a nice nap.
[The gentleman's attitude bespoke of someone who needed it anyways.]
no subject
[ He shrugs, and then moves to take a corner of the portrait. It's a bit heavier than he'd expected, so he glances back at William.
All the while, painting-Jakob is scolding the two of them intensely. "Such cheek! Is this how you treat your own father?" "You lazy layabout! Was killing that butler your way of eliminating the competition?" ]
...Even if it's probably not him, it sure does a good job at mimicking his attitude. Would you mind giving me a hand? It's a little heavy.
[ By now, he's confident that it's not his father, due to the murder accusations. Jakob has more faith in him than that, and they both know it (but will never verbally admit it). ]
no subject
[William took the other corner as they proceeded to try and pivot it.]
Is your father really like that? If so my condolences.
[Must be difficult. The most William has to deal with is an Uncle who likes to gallivant around the world and occasionally get amnesia.]
I think if this doesn't work the only other choice would be to paint a muzzle on him.
no subject
[ What he does have: tea leaves, coffee beans, maybe even a cup or two (somehow), and some hidden daggers. What he does not have: paintbrushes, paint, his dignity. ]
Tell me about it. Of course, I don't hate him, but he can certainly be aggravating.
[ Like now. The occupant of the painting is of course, making a ruckus (this is quite rude, Dwyer must admit, but he's willing to do this for some peace of mind). William is also completely free to notice that Jakob looks quite young (around mid-twenties) to father a son of ~17 years.
Deeprealms are weird shit.]no subject
Family is complicated, I think that is the best that can be said on the subject.
[William had noticed that, though it's not unusual back home to see people like that. So he does have to ask...]
Is he a demon by chance? I am asking seriously and not as an insult.
no subject
[ He manages to maintain his composure for all of 5 seconds before he has to turn his face away to giggle. Too bad it was a genuine question, but it was also unintentionally hilarious to Dwyer. Just...give him another few seconds to recollect himself. ]
Forgive me. I understand that you wanted a serious answer. My father is perfectly human, although his countenance and general attitude can lead people to believe he's a demon. Why?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1
[Felicia pointed at the body, fingers already reaching for her staff so she could try to heal any wounds and save the stranger.
If Dwyer hadn't tried already. He was more dour than his father, but just as efficient.]
no subject
[ He catches Felicia reaching for her staff, and slowly shakes his head. He's a healer first and a fighter second, so it was practically reflex to check if the person (now body) in front of him was still alive. ]
...There's no pulse. I checked.
no subject
[She had read enough murder mysteries and seen enough soap operas to know a few of the tropes-- the first of which is that the service staff is always blamed, whether they did it or not. Grabbing Dwyer's hand, she stared at him with firm, serious eyes.]
They're going to thik it's one of us. We've gotta get out of here!
[Oh~ What is Jakob going to think if she let anything happen to his son???]
no subject
[ Well, if Felicia's in a rush and actually initiating physical contact by grabbing his hand, he's not going to say no. She's serious. This whole situation must be kind of serious. He'll...carry his stale baguette while she drags him along, then, although he'll pull his own weight and run at whatever speed she chooses if she starts to run. Does she even know where to go??? ]
I understand why they'd suspect me, but why you too?
[ Though he's read his share of mystery novels back in his home in the Deeprealms when he didn't have much else better to do, he apparently hasn't read enough to be familiar with the typical "butler/maid did it" trope. ]
no subject
[There were too many complicated, new words that she had to learn. Fortunately, As the Cereal Pours was a nighly drama, and she loved tuning in.]
...Maybe we should get rid of the baguette. I know it's bad to waste food, but right now it's 'evidence.'
Where's the nearest oven we can burn it in?
no subject
I believe it would be in the kitchen. The problem is that I have no idea where that is. Or where we are in the first place.
[ Even Windmire wasn't as creepy as this mansion. Then again, his tune would definitely change if a certain scary king popped up. ]
no subject
[Felicia trailed, slowing to a stop and looking at the ceiling, as if they would provide the answer for her.]
I think this is what Mister Raven called ViViD. It's a strange magic that makes imaginary scenarios seem real. Apparently the people in charge here like to pull us in for no reason sometimes.
Maybe, if we just keep walking, we'll find the kitchen?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Phase I - Butlerception
...Now, sir. I am afraid I must call the police. Please, hold still while I tie you up.
[And suddenly his kid gloved hands are holding a long rope. Where said rope comes from is a mystery never to be solved.]
no subject
He takes a step or two back. There's a little bit of blood on the bread, and the butler's head wound is a clear sign of a bludgeoning. The only blunt thing in this room is...the bread. And maybe the healing staff on his back in his other hand, but that has no blood on it. ]
I'm telling you, I didn't do it. How can anyone kill someone with this anyway?
[
IT ONLY HAS MT 3!!!Dwyer does not give fucks about many things. Indeed, not giving fucks is usually what he's known for, along with sleeping ungodly amounts of hours. But one of the things he truly does give fucks about is butlery, and any implication that he's not doing his job properly or is incompetent at it just grinds his gears like nothing else. ]Besides, I'd sooner be him [ he points to the dead butler ] than serve stale bread. It's an affront to baking and butlery!
no subject
He tucks the rope away...somewhere.]
Well then, I will allow that to slide if you assist me with disposing of the body and the bread.
[At least this way he will be able to confirm if the suspect is a real butler, right?]
no subject
But this isn't the time to reminisce. He has to prove his innocence, or at least wriggle his way into Kevin's good graces. ]
I'll gladly help with the bread, but shouldn't we leave the body with the authorities?
[ ...Maybe he's putting too much stock into the competence of Cerealia's authorities. At least with the bread, he can chop off the bit with blood that the police would need, and keep the rest to make soft again later. ]
no subject
I daresay I am not particularly impressed by the local authorities. Chances are they will blame us both. Besides, I would not be surprised if they had a specific grudge against butlers. You are new, I presume? Please, do follow me.
And bring the bread.
no subject
[ Frankly, he's lost, and Kevin is the only sort of guidance he has right now. He seems to know this place and the local authorities, and didn't tie him up.
...But what if Kevin is the killer? He did come in at quite the "opportune" time to "catch him in the act", and now is taking all of this in stride like nothing's happened, plus calmly disposing of the body without alerting the authorities??? ]
I have to say sir, you're acting kind of suspicious yourself.
[ ...Can Dwyer even fight him off if he really was the culprit? Probably not. He's not as good in combat as Jakob is...but what choice would he have? ]
no subject
And yet, you are the one carrying the bloody baguette. I have heard modern folks invented a method to identify perpetrators by their fingerprints. Quite accurately, it seems.
[But then he shakes his head and lets out a small, defeated sigh.]
...Not that any rational approach is likely to help us at this point. For all I know, this is another CERES welcome party.
[So here is the "garden". Kevin opens the glass door, allowing wind and a couple of dead leaves to come in before he steps outside with Mr. Death By Stale Bread.]
Honestly, this is disgraceful. They could at least have watered the flowers.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
iv
( It takes her a moment to register that kind-of-tired and kind-of-exasperated voice. )
Dwyer! Is that you?
( She came here to find the source of the crying, but now she has other goals. Soleil flails her arms in the dark in an attempt to locate Dwer. )
no subject
[ As soon as he also recognizes her voice in the dark behind him, he immediately rushes over to the source, which means he rushes straight into her flailing and gets a smack on his head for his troubles. Hopefully, Soleil doesn't mind feeling a handful of his ratty hair. ]
Gah! Well...that answers that.