PlaneShift
Gameplay => In-Game Roleplay Events => Topic started by: Cairn on July 21, 2012, 06:48:59 am
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[Enjoy your hunt for Hydlaa's serial killer. As a rule, I don't post logs from my RPs, ever, but you are always willing to post the ones you've had, or any thoughts or interest you might have in the Red Fenki]
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A klyros, pant leg soaked in blood but still walking with a proud dignity, stalks towards the Hydlaa board. She plants her hand upon it, pasting something to it, and then steps back with a self-assured smirk.
(http://i1127.photobucket.com/albums/l630/TheAllegorist476/Evireasletter.png)
[This is a public book, it's on the board, and it can be edited.]
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How can I know if the things I found (the rotten Trepor and Enki bodies and the bloody writing) belong to this? If you confirm, I may report what happened to one of my fellows...
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I took part of the story yesterday but unfortunately I had to leave before I could investigate more. I wish I could play when the server population is at its highest. Anyway, interesting beginning and I've added my name to the list ;)
And thank you to .... (hmmm I forgot his name ) the Dwarf who can't speak a word. First I can't imagine the difficulty to play such character and second, to have been so patient with me despite my very poor RP. Kudos !!
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/me salutes and smiles.
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Coming from the herbal fields around the road to Ojaveda, Esanor returned to the plaza and decided to take a little rest at the fountain to refresh and recreate.
But what a shock: A rotting body of a beheaded Trepor being scoured by the fountain stream! That will certainly cause sickness in the town. And is there a notice nearby, written on leather, inviting people to drink?
Esanor raised immediately and started looking around the plaza for help. The town was rather empty during this time, but he found a young Warrior, Akei, who he could convince with gestures to visit the crime scene. It took some efforts to explain without words, but finally Akei understood to retrieve more people to remove the corpse. So Akei suggested to visit the tavern to seek for friends. In the meantime, Esanor also spotted Kelan who joined them after realizing the issue.
Arriving there, the next shock had to be faced: Bloody writings on the wall, and on top, the corpse of a Clamod Enki on a table. Could it get worse? Kelan's wife Celizan, who arrived in the meantime, could hardly stand the sight. A strange tattoo on the Enki corpse did not stay unnoticed, but unrecognized. Then the party decided to try to get the Octarchy told of the recent issues, the office was not far away from the tavern.
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[I can confirm that anything marked with the Red Fenki tattoo is involved in this RP, as well as other various poems/writings that you may find. Ask or /tell if you're not sure, although for continuity's sake - find out on your own :D]
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[Also - if there are people willing to RP the sickness that may/may not be caused by the body in the fountain, feel free to do so.]
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[I am so down for RPing an illness, just pm me the symptoms and Evirea'll be coughing up a lung in no time. ;D]
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[Just google symptoms of any water poisoning via dead body: To those in close contact with the dead, such as rescue workers, there is a health risk from chronic infectious diseases which those killed may have been suffering from and which spread by direct contact, including hepatitis B and hepatitis C, HIV, enteric intestinal pathogens, tuberculosis, cholera]
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[The Killer's Reply: An IC Book Posted on the Bulletin Board]
[It appears that this was written in blood, fresh, even. Like one were to dip a quill in and scratch out the dainty scrawl as if simply writing with any sort of ink.]
Ire provoked is less than frightening.
Rise up and more will die,
the harder you search the more you ask
for larger tears to cry
your old ones first, the ones you love
your children next would fall.
friends and family, sent to the wells
by your own actions, palls
in azure sun I walk, still free
even, in front of your own
go hide in your houses, and quiver, thee
lock the doors and the windows down.
but look around you first, be sure
that I am not inside
it's hard to run through locked doors,
and in small houses you can't hide.
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A dead Nolthrir girl was found in front of the Red Crystal Den. How much more could one provoke the security of Hydlaa? Many people took part in taking care of her corpse.
And today, another bloody writing appeared on the walls of the Laanx fountain, together with a heap of ... not to be mentioned. This time, one of the Hydlaa Guards (Rokko Simbor) took notice and started investigations, realizing the lack of trust in the guards. Even though it was a quite disgusting experience for him.
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Just a few remarks:
a) This kind of plots was the reason why Illysia left once. Too blatant. Too violent. Too forceful to be ignored by people who don't like it too much...
b) This kind of plot even enforces GMs to get involved as guards, although GMs are meant to stay out of roleplays as much as possible, to avoid preference among players.
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[Not that this hasn't been a lovely debate, but rather than argue about what's good RP and what's bad RP, I'm just going to take whatever I get, because it's all fun for me!]
Evirea Pomolle wanders up to her notice with a smirk. Swiftly she reads the bottom, containing an interesting rebuttal to her statement, thanking her for giving the killer a good list of potential victims. She only smirks and smudges it out with a finger after licking it, before whipping out a pen and writing in perfectly ledgible text:
"I, Evirea Pomolle, of no particular order or affiliation, hereby challenge the killer to make the ultimate chase:
Come for me."
Stepping back, she admires her work, before glancing towards the blood-written note. Giving a guffaw of amusement and another cheeky grin, she plucks it easily from the billboard, and walks off, noting the dainty, distinctive writing and humming joyously, "Oh wonderful! Just as I wanted. An abundant handwriting sample."
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[Just a quick written version of an RP that happened recently.]
They'd killed a child.
Evirea had seen many things in her lifetime. Many more yet to come, if she had anything to say about it. Only at the zenith of her cycles, she wasn't seeing retirement on the horizon anytime soon. And she'd seen bodies just like the one lying before her now, on numerous occasions. Yet somehow this one struck her harder than the rest. Perhaps it was the presence of the brand, a perversion left on the young girl that she so dearly wished she could wipe away. As though even in death she belonged to the killer, her body and her soul both corrupted.
People were asking her questions. Gathering around her, staring with equal parts fear and anger at the small nolthrir's small, stiff frame. Their words grated on her nerves, though she knew they meant no harm. That they were perhaps new to such atrocities, and didn't realize that silence is sometimes the most reverent way of being. Still, they chattered all around her, making the inside of her skull ring.
“What was used to kill her?”
“Who did this?”
“Where is the guard when you need him?”
And the tangible undercurrent, the question everyone was thinking but nobody dared utter, ringing unvoiced in the air over and over and over again:
Why?
She answered what she could, but she felt herself floating above it all, drifting. She was just starting down at that tiny face, her long dark lashes, her pale green skin, her mussed, tangled hair. Her fingers traced the hideous marking, the mocking fenki. Her wings hovered over her body and she crouched, looking defeated. But she only allowed this posture for a short time, and then she was rising, on her feet like a soldier, the girl still clutched in her arms. The note left by her murderer still clinging to her clothing, she read it aloud, her voice like the tolling bell:
“Bring me your young, the fruit of your labour, bring me the sweat from your brows. Bring me the precious, your long held favours. All will be righted somehow.”
A silence fell over the clamor, or at least it did for her. Now, every sense, every attention, was fixated on the cold body flung across her arms. And she thought to herself, she doesn't deserve to rot in a pile in the Well, surrounded by the corpses of the old and decrepit. She deserves to be preserved, remembered as something meant to be cherished. Not as a tragedy.
Suddenly, she realized what her rebuttal to the killer would be.
“Teshia!” The woman shouted, her voice parting the silence like a knife. She knew the woman was nearby, and was soon rewarded by the sight of her coming down the stairs towards her, nearing the Den and stopping with a scowl. It quickly molded into an expression of rage when she saw what Evirea was holding, and a slew of wicked curses flew past her lips, her maimed and blinded eye giving a telling flash.
“How deeply can you freeze something?” The klyros asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.
Minutes later a group of mournful onlookers watched as the fierce ylian stood in the city's courtyard, the telling waves of chilling blue way magic wafting over the sparse audience. The air was robbed of all heat around her, and slowly she began to lock the child in place, hands clutching her thin fingers so that she was stuck in a dancing position. On her toes, her arms flung out, her hair dancing all around her head and her shoulders to obscure the viscous mark. Instead of being a symbol of death, Teshia molded her into a memory of life, a mere girl out for a day of play. Noble dwarves and elves who had followed in the solemn procession gathered around and offered flowers, until all the area around the lifelike statue's feet was aglow with the color of spring. Forever locked until someone shattered it away, this would be a momento to what the killer had hoped to, but could never truly destroy.
Evirea sat amidst the flowers long after the others had left, with the fiercesome shadow of Teshia standing over her, arms crossed, poised in the posture of vigilence like a vindictive warrior. Yet the woman, she knew, was completely in control of how she felt, cold like the magic she'd used to create the memorial. And this was one of the aspects she felt was admirable about her. The ability to push emotion to the back of the mind, and walk onwards, until it was safe enough to finally collapse and grieve in one's own time.
She sang a song for the girl, the high, smooth klyran words reverberating around in air that was still chilled enough to make even her breath fog it. When she was finished, she wrote yet another oath upon a scrap of paper, not only as a promise to the girl for whom her heart was breaking, but as a foreboding coming of judgement for the one responsible for her death.
"She mocks you even now in death. Bring me your head, oh demoted one. I shall mount it on a spike and set it high upon the plaza, so that all may rejoice in your demise. She will be remembered with love. You, only with disgrace."
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/me nudges Akei.
That helpful dwarf Esanor showed us another disgusting corpse, didn't he, Akei?
Cairn, other than to draw your killer out, you won't mind, will you, how else your true-death poison samples might be creatively used? ;)
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Esanor sure helped us a lot :thumbup:
I didn't have time to write something about our last RP (it's not that easy for me also) but I noticed that the corpse we placed in front of the Temple disappeared. Any fresh news to what happened since?
TY all for the nice ingame RP and also to Cairn, I'm enjoying it (don't you dare to stop it as some have suggested !!!)
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[for continuity's sake, i hope the poor old lemur was not lost. Akei, here goes, please follow up if i missed anything, thanks.]
The body slumped against the tree in the plaza was that of a withered old lemur, some time dead, judging from the stiffness of the corpse. If tempers had been flaring and accusations flying just moments earlier, a shared dread now united the group. They struggled to make sense of the image of the voluptuous fenki brutally carved into the skull. A crime of passion? But then this had not been the first skull so marked. A religious ritual slaughter? Perhaps. It had been pointed out that the tone and language of certain messages left with the bodies was self-righteous, perhaps even religiously fanatical. From chafe marks around his wrists, it looked like the victim had been bound, and perhaps that strangulation had been the killer's first resort. His or her last, it seemed, gaped in the neck of the poor lemur, a knife wound, strangely bloodless but oozing a green viscous liquid. Some of the crowd was disbanding in the midst of nervous muttering about leaving the business to the guards. Holding their own opinions about the competence of the guards, the others collected some globs of the green fluid using a kitchen knife. Finally, only two people remained by the corpse. Both had seen several bodies too many. Neither desired to take this one to the burial well. They parted ways to investigate their green samples. But before that, at the end of a trail of blood leading back to the tree, on the threshold of the Iron Temple they laid the poor old lemur, a note of warning against further violence addressed to the Laanxists and tied to the corpse with that symbol of anarchy/freedom/hope* [you choose], a bright yellow neckerchief.
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/me finds the table in the corner of Kada-El's with a strange etching: "LAANX COME HOME" - but the word LAANX crossed out and replaced by "Pentrian". He tries to find someone he remembers investigating...
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Evirea drug a hand down her face, wiping away traces of moisture. Raising her face from the fountain, her fingers began to trace the impression of a small vial in her pocket, twitching occasionally at the sounds that kept ringing out from the city. Even the most minute thing was cacophonous to her. The clomp of Rivnak hooves against the cobbles, the ring of a hammer pounding away at a scrap of unformed metal. Bright things, too, swimming in her vision. Even in this back alleyway the ripples that reflected the crystal light on the surface of the water made her twitch. Hands gripping the cool rock of the smoothed edge, leaning over the structure, the klyros closed her eyes tightly and again forged onwards with her thoughts, desperately seeking the answer, the reason she'd denied herself the necessity of her medication. Details went flying past almost too quickly to be distinguishable, a never-ending tied of unfiltered information that made her nauseous. The bodies that were left kept coming up in her mind, their faces in stark contrast, their fingers curled in rigor mortis seeming to beckon to her, begging her to realize the detail that she'd missed. The thing that had been nagging so incessantly in the back of her mind, the thing that she was unable to decipher when she was in her right mind.
The anger at the child's death had been clouding her ability to properly think it through. She'd stewed over it for a few days, but her doubt began to get stronger, and as it did she realized that something about the entire equation didn't add up. No matter how many sleepless nights she spent, she just couldn't piece together precisely what that thing was. It all came down to this insane attempt, so she'd cloistered herself away in this dark back passageway to carefully garner what the missing part of the equation was. But plucking it out of the tidal wave of jumbled thoughts was proving to be harder than she would have thought.
Dead. All dead. Matter of days, really. Same True Death poison in each one. Suggests murder. Yet none of the bodies were known by any in the city. So many bodies, none of them known. Why? If fear was the goal, why not kill someone well known? Why these individuals that were practically nameless? Why leave them lying there, pointless, wordless, bloodless...
Bloodless.
Evirea's eyes snapped wide. “Bloodless,” she hissed out, and then let out a crow of laughter. “BLOODLESS! No blood! No blood means to transference, no carrying the poison to the vital organs! No circulation means no poisoning! No circulation means the True Death would be null and void. Blood was previously coagulated! Corpse was already dead at the time of stabbing!”
The grin that spread across the woman's face nearly seemed to split it. She stumbled away from the fountain, totally forgetting about everything else as she began to dart through the city streets, momentarily granted reprieve from her scattered mind as it honed in upon spreading word of this new discovery. Waving her hands above her head, she began babbling like someone depraved, exclaiming the same revelation over and over in a list of mostly nonsensical medical terminology that made quite a few people turn their heads and stare as though she'd completely lost her marbles. But the basic message was fairly understandable:
“No murders have been committed! A setup, all a setup! No one has been murdered!”
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[Someone paid attention in school! Fancy that :whistling: ]
*To be edited with current news in a few moments...*
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A shadowy figure of a menki sips some mead at one of Kada El's tables.All those murders,by whom and why?Who cares.Perhaps I could join their little celebration.Some creativity might help spicing thing up hm?(he whispers to himself).He slowly take a quill and small piece of paper and places it into the table.Ηe starts writing while repeating pieces of what he already written.
Hail brother... our efforts have been quite succesful...we will soon be able to impose complete anarchy into the city... It shall live again.
The menki takes the note and leaves the tavern hastily after placing a few octas by the bartender.Quickly he mixes with the crowd and places the note as well as a recently stolen ring into a young Lemur's sack.Someone in the crowd shrieks "Thief!He went there!"The guards quickly surround the place arresting a dwarf,a Kran and the "lucky" Lemur.A cloacked figure grins as it watches the guards escorting the Lemur into the interogation chambers.
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[Someone paid attention in school! Fancy that :whistling: ]
*To be edited with current news in a few moments...*
/me claps. "Nice work, Cairn, and Vire!"