The Wordsmith (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wordsmithery) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trusthell2017-03-04 12:06 pm
wordsmithery) wrote in trusthell2017-03-04 12:06 pm
Take Responsibility.
| Once again, the time allotted for investigating seems to run slightly long this week - understandably so, most likely, given the state of the bodies and the fact that there were a pair of them this time. But eventually that time does draw to a close, leaving nothing but the elevator waiting for you at your floor of choice and perhaps a sense of irony in the notion that there's quite literally nowhere to go but up from here. Once again, the deceased have had three more join their numbers since you were here last - greyed-out portraits of Killia, Vanille, and Phi have been set up on their places in the podium circle, watching the proceedings with unseeing eyes from atop the black fabric that's been draped over their spots. The lectern above remains unoccupied; the Wordsmith's voice can be heard either way, however, echoing throughout the room once everyone has found their place in the circle. "Two more Apprentices' lives have been lost, and this time the guilty seeks to terminate their course of study with company in tow. Whatever their reasoning, should they wish to circumvent death or perhaps simply have the living accompany them, will you truly allow Encouraging and Rational to have died for that purpose? If your answer should be 'no', then have the guilty held accountable for their actions." Thirteen Apprentices remain. It's your job to decide how many are still standing by the end of the day. |
no subject
I examined Vanille. [...] She...it appears was poisoned. I tried to examine, aah...closely, but I'm unsure what kind of poison it was. She had...blood on her mouth, and she was likely coughing or spitting it up at one point. It smelled like garlic and... [...] If any more details are needed to determine the kind, I can provide a few.
What's...strange is, there was no blood on the table. Additionally, her positioning, which would've been uncomfortable for her, for long periods of time, suggests she was moved and died elsewhere.
Oh and, she had no other marks, and nothing in her pockets - they were turned out, so it looks like someone emptied them.
[She breathes out slowly. Is that all? That...it seems like that's all. She nods, her hands curled into fists on her podium.]
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
Did anyone find what the poison might have been?
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Um, I found this in the dining room. There was a bowl of curry that was eaten as well as one that was still full. I... preserved it since I got a really bad feeling about it, but here it is.
I also found this underneath the table. It looks like it belongs to Vanille... At least I think it does.
[She'll place the necklace on her podium as well.]
no subject
It was her best friend Fang's. I... I was with her, when she received it from the gatcha this week. [...she still calls the vending machine a gatcha exclusively, we need to find joy where we can get it-]
Does... Estellise, does the curry smell like garlic?
MODS
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
However, the most important thing we believe she found was a bottle labeled arsenic. Quite honestly, I haven’t a clue what it is, but I do not doubt it is dangerous.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
no subject
Wait... okay. What all is in the curry? Is there, like, meat?
MODS
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Vanille had a notebook next to her in the par. It's all in her writing, [ At a glance, at least ] but there is an oddity here. There's several pages ripped out of it, and there's also a few notes stuck back in. Those, however, were written on a different notepad.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
no subject
Well, Silver and I found Phi in the chapel. I managed to notice that she had a head wound that implies she was hit with something rather hard. Whatever it was also had an edge to it, but this probably served to disorient her more than it being the blow that killed her.
no subject
[God, this is uncomfortable. He puts his hand in front of his neck to gesture to something like decapitation rather than... Whatever the hell was going to stumble out of his mouth.]
It looked like her head was severed in one clean hit.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
[Lusamine raises up the bloody longsword as best as she can--it's one of the ones from the machine that can actually cut things, and Lusamine and her twig limbs had a hard enough time trying to carry it to the trial but here it is.]
I found this while you two were investigating the body. Rather curious thing...
But another curious thing is that some of the pews in the chapel were knocked over--but only the ones in the front row. They were simply tipped over, not knocked around at all...whatever happened, it's highly unlikely that there was a fight.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
BREATHILIZER, ELDA EDITION
Alright everyone, line up! I'm going to smell if there's garlic stink on your breath or your hands!
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Clothing check
Estelle is wearing her blue royal dress today. Then again, she has 4 outfits including the school uniform so... that might be difficult... but she's still looking to see what outfits are being worn.]
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
pocket check
Can everyone please empty their pockets? Just in case the culprit may still have the pen on them and forgot to put it away.
[ ... and if someone wants to like pat someone else in here, they probably can but he's not doing that.
Also he has nothing in his pockets for the record. ]
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
[The outburst is sudden, angry, but over with quickly. Gangrel's nails are digging tightly into the podium and after a moment he pulls himself up to his full height and laughs. It's angry and just as crazy as it should be. It's exactly what he should have done when he heard about the poison or the decapitation. This is the mad laughter you're all used to hearing and when he stops, it's abrupt.]
Your fight is with me, Mad King Gangrel! If you're going to accuse me of murder, then do it properly! If you're ready to be wrong again - like last week! - then let's begin! Go ahead - prove I killed anyone!
no subject
[she mad
she so mad, bro]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
...
...
...
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
SELECTION.
If you believe a conclusion has been reached as to the identity of the guilty party among you, then select their title so that we may cease this cyclical arguing one way or the other. The majority, as always, is what will make the decision.
no subject
>RUTHLESS
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
ACCOUNTABILITY.
But then the pit illuminates itself, dispelling some of the darkness in favor of bright, blinding brilliance, and as soon as everyone's eyes have adjusted it becomes immediately obvious that Gangrel is no longer among you in the podium circle; eventually, however, the door beneath Podium Six opens up, and Gangrel makes his way into the arena at the center.
He seems to have composed himself, at least slightly, between the vote and now; his hands are still tight at his sides, long nails biting sharply into the palms of his hands, leaving dark crescents in his skin when he forces his fists to loosen up a little. He doesn't spare a glance upwards, gives no eye contact to anyone in the circle above, though that may very well be because he's trying not to divert his focus from the doors to his left – from Four, from Twenty-Seven, from the pooling black mass swirling into being above them and dripping down to combine heavily on the floor, a large collection of thick black silt that spreads and undulates slightly as it shifts forward, finding purchase on the bright floor of the arena and approaching Gangrel swiftly.
Perhaps the past few times have taught it to attack quickly; perhaps it was right to do so. One of those tendrils shoots out as it approaches, aiming for one of his wrists; Gangrel is quick, however, one of his hands darting out to sweep that long cape of his aside, revealing at least two sets of throwing knives clipped to the sides and back of his belt.
He draws one and throws it hard, the sudden impact with the entity causing it to draw back – this is clearly different from the usual blunt attacks it's been met with, and while it doesn't seem to injure it, it does give it pause for a moment.
And then the inky darkness shifts a little around the blade, consuming it as it would any of its victims. However, there's something in the reaction, in the hesitation, that seems to give Gangrel a brief surge of adrenaline through his system; he steps back a bit as he draws two more of those knives, one in each hand, an undeniable energy surging through him and a look of determination in his eyes as he throws again. He's in no way an expert at it – it's not his class, not his specialty, and really, it's not even a weapon that he would have access to back home; just the same, throwing knives aren't exactly rocket science, and these are well-weighted besides. It's a matter of getting enough force behind them to ensure that the business end will sink into its target, and even after everything today has been, Gangrel has always been one with force to spare.
So he throws them – one, and then the other, rapidly but taking a moment to switch to his dominant side as opposed to trying to accomplish anything with his off hand; again, it gets a bit of recoil where the blades meet the entity in the pit, not enough to seem truly promising but enough to give it the briefest of pauses in between.
However, Gangrel can only split his focus so far – it's either trying to stop the tendrils lashing out toward him or keeping his gaze low, not both, and when he moves to find a couple more of those blades that's when it catches him; the darkness spreads thinly along the ground, only to catch the fluttering edges of that long cape of his, twisting the fabric around itself and using the leverage to pull him back. Gangrel staggers but he doesn't go down, not right away; just the same, his hands abandon the blades at his belt to find the collar of his outfit, the clasps holding the cape in place, only for the dark mass to wind its way up his legs, up over his waist and chest, before pulling him down fully onto his back.
He hits the floor of the arena hard.]
Goodnight, Ruthless.
[The Wordsmith's voice can be heard well over Gangrel's struggle against the creature in the pit; he isn't going down easily, but eventually the creature manages to overpower him, pinning his arms down to the ground and consuming him whole.
And then it flattens down against the floor of the pit, where it remains a swirling mass on the ground, seemingly waiting for something.
After a moment, the Wordsmith speaks again.]
That's all for today; you're free to go.
no subject
...Just as she would have wanted, and expected. Even if it's ultimately futile, he did something.
...Lusamine picks up the sword again, and leaves with it. It's not a good memory, but...she's not leaving it here.]
(no subject)
(no subject)