Another death had occurred. With no smell of breakfast in the halls, the servants grew worried that another of their members had expired. And, much to their horror, in his very room, lay the cook. Dead as can be. 

Briefly, Basil wondered if the devil had come to town - and then he scoffed and shook his head, rubbing his prayer beads together. The work in this house was nothing supernatural or so wicked as to be the Betrayer - it was just twisted human nature. 

Basil knew human nature in all its twists and turns. 

He had felt like someone had been following him all day; one of the other guests, and he recognized the man with the strange name hanging around the corners of where Basil frequented. He also knew that was Larei’s manservant. So Mr Lamonte did not trust him - it was not surprising. She never had, and he doubted she ever would. He rubbed his prayer beads against, scowling to himself. 

Edmond had told him the woman, Susan, had been pushed; that the pavement had been the thing to kill her. That the rock was an unknown - so probably a coincidence, really. Maybe a plant. He couldn’t be sure. 

And he had no one to look at in particular: too many people out of their rooms, too many people it could have been. He wished things were a little cleaner. 

This entire house was becoming one messy crime scene. 

Not but a day after the murder of the poor butler, but a noise wakes those slumbering - or out and about. 

Glass shatters, footsteps echo. 

And there on the pavement, one Nurse Susan, blood pooling around her.

It was not often (these days) that Father Basil was woken by a scream in the early hours of the morning - mostly because he rarely slept so late, as was an old habit. Indeed, more often than not he was woken by the creaks of his parish back home; the groans of old wood and the sighing of wind through drafty rafters. 

Mr Brookes, the butler, while efficient at his job, had been a tyrannical leader and harsh work master. He had had a hand so firm around those under his supervision that they had grumbled and glared and growled under the restraint. It was terrible that he had died so unexpectedly, of course - but none would mourn him, especially no one who had worked with him. 

Probably not something to say in a eulogy, but the truth was the truth and he wondered at the fact that Mr Brookes had died the day after a dinner party that had had so much build-up, only to flop when the host failed to arrive; found it curious that he had died after forcing a young, new maid to deliver the note to the guests, leaving her panicked and on the brink of tears when she had escaped. 

Almost as though it were someone’s vision of justice. 

Nearing the evening, as dinner approached, Father Basil decided to skip sitting with everyone, but announced to the household as a whole that he would be in the chapel, should anyone wish to hold confession or to merely sit in the quiet of the chapel and ruminate. 

A murder has transpired! Today, you have (3) daily actions and (1) night action. Spend them wisely, and be careful to whom you reveal what you have found - you never know what will happen if you reveal too much.

Speaking of revealing information, if there is information you want other non-murderous members among you to know, you can reveal information! Information that is revealed is information that is given to all members of the house and will be found here.

This can be anything from something you find suspicious, something you discovered, or something that you think could be valuable to others looking for the killer. But be warned, your character’s name will appear next to the information. And if you know too much? Who knows. Remember: anyone can submit false information.

Additionally, when you think you know who the killer is check this post to learn about how to make a formal accusation.

As for investigating, you all seem to have the formatting down which is super! Play to your character’s strengths, investigate, ask questions, go forth! <3

As for creativity today, it is up to you all! If you feel like writing blurbs about how your character is doing, feel free to do so! I’ll reblog anything and everything creative pertaining to the roleplay. <3

Night left the sky, but selfishly clung to the morning to try and keep its place. The sun was slow to shine, and the house was slow to wake from it. The servants had scattered themselves around the house, at first so that they might have order, and then in confusion when they found there was none to be had. 

The butler, Mr. Brookes, was nowhere to be found. On any other day, he would be found awake before anyone else. He would prepare for future events, orchestrate as need be, and correct what he must. The servants found themselves much without him.

And thus, a scream from a terrified maid woke the rest of the house. 

A strange way to go about life, he was sure, especially for a holy man - but everyone had their roots, and even the sturdiest trees thrive off of dark and unknown soils. So Basil walked, introducing himself to the staff, learning the rooms and their occupants; where the terribly familiar doctor Edmond kept himself, and who was in the room next to him (A Ms Susan, as he was told, and and EMT from what he could tell - she wore the pin, she wasn’t subtle). He learned where the kitchen was, and the dining area; the parlour, common areas, and all exits. 

He kept particular note of the exits, of course. 

But it was not the occupants, nor the layout of the manor, that plagued his mind as he went about his day; it was the whispering servants, who seemed ill at ease. One had approached him, confessing in a quiet voice that they felt... discomfited by the guests invited to the manor. Who were these people? Why a doctor? Why two nurses? Those were the ones that stood out the most. 

He also couldn’t help but wonder who the host was - not even the staff appeared to know. Not the one who told him, in quiet confidence, that she hadn’t a clue who her employer even was. 

It was interesting. 

It was peculiar. 

It made his hands itch irritably, as if longing for something to grasp; a vintage to drink, perhaps. Not something he had had for quite some time. 

The stranger made him leery, as well - Andrew? Alfred? Angus? What was his name? He hated not knowing who was sleeping just a floor below him. He made himself stand out, but also made himself slink into shadows, and it was a familiar dance and one he could admire when done well - but not when things felt so wrong. 

Stepping inside the chapel, he went straight to the confessional again; running long, callused fingers over the nick in the wood that he had not noticed until he had cleaned the thing. 

There was a tension among the guests. He quite assumed their invitations had all been of a--invasive sort. Despite the pleasantries, it was clear that none of them were as interested in each other as what the house presented them. It suited him well enough, though the thinning of the crowd had him on edge.

It would be harder to hide among even the flashiest of guests. His stature was always a hindrance, but a good crowd would usually do the trick.  Still, the man showed up at lunch (he had skipped breakfast in favor of sleep), just a jovially as he’d attended dinner.

The good doctor provided well enough conversation. Edmund did not seem the type to ask too many unnecessary questions and his jokes were usually met with a pleasing laugh. Looking at the others, the doctor had to be the safest option. His nerves could be settled on that notion.

The nervous blonde was a talker--a question asker, the studious priest--seemed observant, the dark haired girl who barely had enough in her lungs to get out a syllable--probably scare her off, and then there was the dame all dyed up in red with this....peculiar leer to her features--unsettling. Ms. Larei proved a hard one to read anyway. Then again, it wasn’t too hard to figure out who had raided the bar the evening before catching a glimpse of her. 

After a pleasant enough conversation, the tall shadow stood and with a wave of his hand. A few other’s broke from the group as well, heading up toward their rooms to refresh themselves and the like. He stretched before setting off toward the elevator. 

“Oh excuse me, What did you say your name was, Mister...?” The stranger winced, glancing to his left and down a bit more. Confirmed to be a question asker. Miss Milena had taken the same elevator and unfortunately interest in him as well. 

“Ah, did I say?” Silly him. 

“You could call me Andrew.”