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?
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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. ] |
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Gilles de Rais | Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist
[In the center of the room, above the prone figure of the butler, Gilles stands clutching a huge souvenir replica of the Tour Eiffel. He has no idea what it is (it's from after his time), but he's holding it by the top and swinging its legs through the air as he spins across the carpet. The oversized tourist merchandise is covered in blood, as if it has just been used to bludgeon someone to death, and Gilles' gleeful handling of it does little to detract from the impression that he is the bludgeoner.]
I do like this weapon. A little crude maybe, but what's the matter with that? Ah—
[He examines the dead butler with much more curiosity than concern.]
You're not looking well, dear.
[When the door creaks open, Gilles continues to display a complete lack of concern. He raises the Tour Eiffel over his head, with a smile, as if prepared to strike. He's not doing a wonderful job of appearing innocent.]
Phase II.
[Along with the portraits, there happens to be a mirror, and before paying the paintings much mind, Gilles pauses to examine himself. He's rather pleased with what he sees. He still has his Tour Eiffel souvenir in one hand, because he's grown attached to it.]
I know I've said it before, but that was an excellent choice of hat, Gilles!
[When one of the portraits starts to hiss at him to get his attention, he studiously ignores it at first, carefully adjusting his hat, but the foolish thing is persistent and continues to harass him, whispering his name: Gilles, Gilles de Rais.... Gilles narrows his eyes. When he can finally ignore the portrait no longer, he turns toward it with a sigh.]
I don't see why anyone would paint a picture of you, Grandfather. You're absolutely ugly. I could have happily existed for the rest of eternity without seeing your withered face again. Of course I had a motive! I fail to see how that's relevant.
[Everyone's going to consider being a demon a motive for murder. What's the point of arguing about it? Some of the other portraits are starting to chime in, and Gilles peers at them irritatedly, thoroughly distracted from his hat-admiration now.]
Ugh, what are you doing here—Charles?
Phase III.
[He would like something to eat. Perhaps a cream puff. Something light and airy. Not that he doesn't like meat as well—preferably rare. As long as it's well-made. Getting to the kitchen is more difficult than he'd anticipated, however, because what's the matter with these stairs? It seems like he's been walking forever, and when he tries to fly instead—it makes no difference. No matter how fast he goes, there's another door, another twist of stairs, another series of bloody handprints.
It's getting boring. When the portrait suddenly whispers its advice, Gilles raises an eyebrow—he doesn't generally trust unfamiliar portraits—but why not try what it suggests? At least it's not a portrait of his grandfather this time.]
Then they're in luck. I love gossip. You should have said so sooner! What a naughty portrait.
[Gilles wags his finger at it, but he starts to brighten. He does enjoy gossip. And talking about himself. He begins to pleasantly recount a series of unfortunate events, most of them crimes he's committed. This recitation really does seem to be cheering him up.]
Phase III and OMG?
Which is when he comes across a sight he hadn't expected. Gilles de Rais. Talking to a portrait about...
Well, that was a bit uncomfortable, to put it delicately. The first demon from home to appear before him and it was Gilles de Rais on an magic staircase.]
...you really never change.
Hello!
[Gilles breaks off in the middle of his current charming anecdote and turns at the sound of William's voice. He raises his eyebrows.]
Hm? Oh, it's you. Are you meant to be my competition?
[He's been thinking there must be some kind of battle involved here, but so far no opponent has appeared. Gilles studies the shadows behind William, as if looking for someone more interesting there. But he doesn't find anyone. He shakes his head, then holds up an extended pointer finger, wagging it again.]
That isn't true! I once changed quite a lot, you know. The stairs are very interested in my personal life.
[But who can blame them, really?]
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[Are they supposed to compete in vulgarity? Is that it? Because even William can admit he would lose in that situation.]
Is that a fact? I guess being trapped here means they are desperate for any story.
[William's never known how to deal with this man, so after a moment, he just sighs, placing a hand on his hip.]
Are you here alone? No other demons?
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I have excellent stories. You're jealous, I know. And isn't this a game?
[In any case, Gilles isn't taking whatever-this-is very seriously.]
Other demons? Not that I know of. If so, they're keeping out of sight, which is very dull of them. You can can come out now, if you're here!
[He pauses, but no, nothing.]
In a proper game, there should be a fight. But you're not much of a challenge. Unless—
[Gilles, not worried about not knowing how to deal with William, leans forward and taps on his chest, as if knocking on a door. Cupping a hand to his face, he calls out, as if calling down into a well.]
Hello? Are you in there, darling?
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[And he isn't jealous of a guy died in his previous life, though he realizes that hardly bothers said guy.
But it's a bit disappointing to realize that there is no one with Gilles. He would have expected a certain fallen angel to have accompanied him at least. And that also means that William really is alone. With Gilles. Ugh. It's like being stuck with your least favorite great aunt if they were a serial murdering demon.]
What are you doing?
[He takes a step back, leaning away. He does know exactly what Gilles means. Isaac had mostly filled William in about that particular black out and there were impressions here and there that filled in the gaps.]
...and don't bother. He's not going to come out and talk to you. He's not been in the mood lately.
[Though lately, he had felt something stirring, probably due to CERES latest hijinks. But Gilles didn't need to know that.]
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And William needs to improve his taste in great aunts. Gilles adjusts his hat, thoughtfully. He's thinking more about hat positioning than his current predicament. He is irritated at having been pulled into this pointless little show, when he had better things to do, but that doesn't mean his appearance isn't important.]
Then if it's a game, there should be an entertaining battle. So I can exercise my might and blow someone to pieces.
[Gilles is mostly interested in war games, but he's not even going to bother attacking William right now, unless something makes it worth his while. He would kidnap him, but he can't seem to get back to Hell. So there's no point in that, either.]
Ah—that's no fun! Can't you make him come out? He seems so much more interesting than you.
[By which Gilles means, defeating him would be a real coup. He's leaning in toward William again, beckoning by curling his pointer finger repeatedly.]
Come out, come out... Wouldn't you like to meet the famous Gilles de Rais?
[He's (pointlessly) trying to talk to Solomon again, but also intentionally being annoying.]
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...there isn't going to be a lot of blowing people to pieces. Unless one of the npcs catches up to you. Then I suppose there will be some blowing up.
[When he thinks about it, ViViD has the potential to be really good for this guy, assuming he's okay with killing mere simulations instead.]
...he's not that interesting. He's actually rather depressing. What is it they use in this time period, 'a sad sack?'
[William crossed his arms as he looked up at the paintings. He had passed some pictures of his own family a bit of a ways and had just soldiered on, because what was the point?
But that sure was a lot of dead french people up there. Some he probably recognized.]
But, there is a way to talk to him perhaps. If we can get down to the kitchen. There might be something there that could help, but I would not make any promises.
[If they had some herbal tea down there, that could work. Hell, maybe just being near a spice rack would. He's not going to mention that though, but merely hope the promise of such might be enough to motivate Gilles.]
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You're telling me I'm not supposed to blow you to pieces? You would say that. You'll have to tell me when an NPC arrives, so I can blow it up, because I don't know what that is.
[He considers, tapping his finger against the side of his face, as if considering whether he should attack William anyway—but no. It still doesn't interest him. He considers attacking the dead medieval French people gazing down on him in disapproval, but no, there doesn't seem to be much point in attacking them, either.]
It's true I don't like "sad sacks", but I'll decide that for myself! Our tastes aren't similar at all. But if I get bored of him, he can go back in!
[Simple enough. Gilles has it all sorted out. But then he blinks at what William says.]
What? You're proposing we go on an outing together? To summon Solomon?
[Nothing like this has ever happened before. But then, William was always more interested in other demons, and the other demons were more interested in him than Gilles was.]
Oh-ho! I see what you're doing! You need me to get you out of this, because I have more than 400 years of high quality gossip in here!
[Gilles taps his head, smugly.]
And you aren't a gossip.
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I will, if only because I don't trust you to make the distinction.
[Yeah someone's going to have to teach Gilles about gaming. Maybe William can blackmail Hiro into doing it. Troll vs troll.]
Outing is perhaps one word for it. Though I cannot make any guarantees. It's a bit touch and go.
[And William had never actively tried before. Normally the barriers between those two sets of memories just ebbed and flowed as they saw fit. CERES seemed to have done something to him when accessing his code that created a barrier. But, that was all the more reason to pierce it.]
But, yes-[William rubbed his forehead as if it had been touched by something infectious]-you have a gift for all sorts of tales like that. I believe they would find it most entertaining. And I cannot afford to engage in such nonsense anyways.
[Would ruin his future political career. Which had limited viability due to the world having been ended, but one could still dream.]
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If something comes along that looks fun to attack, then I'll attack it.
[So it's hard to tell whether Gilles will actually wait for William to identify a suitable target. It could go either way!]
All right... An outing it is. Let's go!
[It's better than hanging around here all day, and the possibility of drawing out Solomon is novel enough to tempt him. Perhaps they could have a rematch.]
I'm an excellent storyteller. Think of what it would like to be stairs, doing nothing but being walked on. And creaking. I'll make them sit up and take notice, the little darlings.
[He smiles at the stairs. Their presumed good taste seems to have earned them his favor, but he shortly turns back to William.]
Do you have any requests, Willy?
Whether or not you're apping, your Gilles is amazing btw
...I will leave that to you then.
[Much as he hates the contracts, William has to admit that they really would have been convenient in this situation. But well, there's no use but to deal with the situation.]
You are going to be talking like that the whole time, aren't you? How lucky for me.
[But anyways.]
Didn't you once do something involving the theater in your human life? Why not talk about that. And don't call me Willy.
Thank you! And I may, if I finish my app in time. If not, maybe next time!
Please do. You can count on me to do it with pleasure!
[Since there's no Baalberith to tell him what to do, he doesn't even have a contract by association right now.]
I have to talk like that, because the stairs like it.
[Yes. That makes perfect sense. Not that he wouldn't enjoy talking like that regardless. When William asks about the theatre, however, Gilles turns to him in some surprise, his eyes widening.]
Willy!
[He has instantly ignored the request not to call William "Willy", sorry. Now that they're on these more intimate going-on-an-outing terms, surely they're on a nickname basis, too.]
You know about my plays? You do care about me!
[Gilles reaches out to put an arm around William and attempts to draw him in close.]
I knew you did. You were just putting on an act around everyone else, isn't that right? So they wouldn't get jealous.
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Phase II and OMG +1?
I was wondering when you vermin would make an appearance...
[Needless to say, Kevin is not particularly pleased, and is currently pondering whether young master would be upset if he burnt this one to ashes. Certainly Master William wouldn't miss just one little demon, would he?]
Hello hello!
Oh! I thought something smelled. I assumed it was a corpse. Turns out, it's only an angel. Just the kind of manners I expect from Heaven! Interrupting your betters.
[Even though Gilles was only complaining about everyone who was talking to him.
Wrinkling his nose, Gilles hefts his miniature Tour Eiffel—which is large for a miniature, and very heavy. He still doesn't know what it is, assuming it to be a novelty club of some kind. He's sure this is some kind of game, and he doesn't intend to back down from anyone.]
I'm trying to decide... when vermin calls you vermin, is it more or less insulting?
Apologizing for demons and angels alike. :')
[Kevin watches the Tour Eiffel miniature - why is it so phallic? what does it do? - and raises his ow hand, revealing seemly delicate feathers between his fingers. ]
Though, honestly, I'm trying to decide... are you really in such a haste to be relieved from the misery of being Baalberith's pet? Would he even notice? Would anyone?
No need to apologize! Also, sorry, DW switched accounts on me.
[The Tour Eiffel remains a mystery to all concerned. But Gilles hefts it readily enough. It may be a miniature, but it's more than half as tall as he is. Someone must have had a sense of humor about France, if not a very subtle one.]
Blah blah blah...
[Gilles maturely makes a talking motion with his free hand.]
Do you think that's going to upset me? I'm not the pet here. You're just another of Heaven's pawns.
No problem <3
Only a fool would think there is any shame in serving God. Fortunately for her, that child has never shared your foolishness.
[He takes a couple of steps closer, ignoring the chatting portraits. French, honestly. ]
...And I do not merely threat, demon. Touch one single hair on his precious head and you will burn.
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[Gilles shrugs and flips his hair with his free hand.]
I don't know which child you're talking about, don't bore me with your babbling.
[Although a look of anger flickers briefly across his face. This angel had better not goad him.]
There's no fool like a holy fool.
[There's nothing wrong with being French; it's something to be proud of! Not that these particular French people are high on Gilles' list of favorite people. They're still far superior to some Englishmen he could name.]
Touch a hair...? Whose head? Oh, him? You can stop your groaning and griping, I'm not the least interested!
[Not that Gilles' word is good for much, but Baalberith isn't here to give him orders, so there's that.]
I'd much rather harm you.
[He gives a bright smile and winks.]
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For the time being, he files away Gilles' reaction over that very particular saint. An instinctive reaction from a creature so very used to torturing. Seek the soft spots, then press them when it hurts the most.]
Oh please. [He lets out a tiny little breath -not the least interested- his holier than thou look very much angelic and an awkward match to Gilles' sassy winking. Did the room just got warm?] I would like to see you try.
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Would you? Maybe I'll be generous enough to show you. I've never met an angel I wouldn't fight.
[Although he hasn't launched himself at Kevin in an attack just yet. Partly because of his familiarity with this particular angel, and partly because of the unfamiliarity of this place.]
I wouldn't worry about me, when you're the one more likely to harm a hair on his head. Or his whole head.
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[Not that he would ever hesitate to invade Dantalion's territory again. Why, he is practically a local at this point.
Besides, Kevin may share Gilles' familiarity problems. Though he would never say that aloud, there is something definitively awkward about attacking straight away someone you saw wearing a maid dress...for your boss, no less. Speaking of which...]
That will not be necessary. I will never allow you ruffians to have him again.
[Not that he would allow heaven to touch young master either, he has come to realize. Kevin fully intends to keep the young man under his overzealous wing no matter what.]
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[Typical! So what if he's manipulative and deceitful? Since when are those negative traits for a demon? And Heaven isn't any different, just more hypocritical.]
What do you know about my orders? Not a thing. Don't go inserting your pretty nose where it doesn't belong.
[He waves his free hand at Kevin dismissively. Really, he should attack the angel, but he is used to encountering Kevin in the calmer atmosphere at the school. And he doesn't see how he'll further his plans by fighting him now. He wants to, but... maybe he'll wait and see what's going on. A better opportunity may arise.]
What I mean is, he's in more danger from you than me! I know what you types are like. You can't be trusted.
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[No similarities to heaven at all!
But wait, Kevin is suddenly on Gilles' personal space.]
My type is the the type that will scorch you to the ground if you ever use him again. Delegating, manipulating, following orders, pastime...I do not care how you call it, demon. I do not care about your games.
[That cold, obsessive and most likely insane rage? Gilles may or may not recognize it for what it is.
Love.
He pulls away and finally turns his back to the demon. He could threaten Gilles all day, but he can't deny the fact that they have reached some sort of truce.
It's kind of mortifying, really.]
Follow me. It is better for him to know you are here than being surprised by your shameless face.
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[This isn't the most accurate description of what happened... Gilles is, of course, untrustworthy, but if he is going to backstab, he (usually) needs a suitable reason to make the effort.
When Kevin gets in his personal space, Gilles gets right back in Kevin's, leaning in toward him. Love? He doesn't care about an angel's love. It's worthless.]
I have no idea what you're going on about. Don't you people know how to do anything but threaten and lie? Oh wait, you can also destroy, that's right. And make everyone miserable. That's what you do best.
[In a fit of angel-inspired irritation, Gilles (hugging his heavy model Eiffel Tower) floats up into the air and crosses his legs in haughty irritation.]
I don't take orders from angels, in case you forgot! I don't know what gives you the idea that you can speak to me in that manner!
[He's very stubborn. He would quite possibly follow Kevin if Kevin went somewhere, but he's not going to do what an angel tells him to, just like that. It's a matter of principle. Still, some kind of truce must be in effect, as he's still not attacking.]
I'm honestly LOLing here. :')
I'M GLAD, me too!
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