MASTER GAME Chapter 1: A Murder Mystery

Discussion in 'GOLDEN CITY' started by Nemopedia, Jun 2, 2018.

  1. Chapter 1

    A Murder Mystery
    A week had passed since the murder of the popular tavern singer Bird. Though not a criminal she was a thief of many hearts from those bound and not. Her murder had been grizzly. Her beauty was stripped away from head to toe and with horror plastered over what used to be her face. Bird was still making headlines mourning her death while reporters came forth with the craziest speculations of what the reason could be for her cold blooded murder. So much even that when one day the Golden Times --Golden City’s most influential and prominent paper-- strayed away from the usual dose the whole city was in a frenzy to get their hands on a copy. An ominous message was shared and it was the start of it all.


    In big bold letters this terrifying announcement was made. Apparently a note with this exact content had been delivered, with another note urging them to publish it frontpage if they valued their lives and jobs.


    A long line of seemingly gibberish was followed after the title, detailing an explanation from the Golden Times on their decision to publish. The murderer had confessed, but who they were was still a question. The Bird had known more, but whatever it was it died with her and went to the Inquisition who kept their lips pressed.

    It wasn’t Golden Times alone that were honoured with a threat. That day when the Thumb came into office he found a note as well.

    ‘YOU’RE NEXT’ ​

    It was all the note said, but it was enough for Amon to summon the best Inquisition members to guard the Council. Orders were given and the vice-president halted all activities. The members were instructed to stay at home as much as possible with every minute supervised by a cloak. With a murderer running around threatening the Council no chances were taken.

    Meanwhile the papers of Golden City also caught a whiff of the unrest in the Council. Where Golden Times had the honour of releasing the first message the papers had received different notes. One much more cryptic, but it signalled the start of everything.

    " Now, here is a trick.
    The key is split in four.
    And to start your endeavour.
    Here your first word:
    I’m a determiner at work. "​


    The smog is thick today. With little wind but a sweltering heat Golden City is entering the suffocating season of summer. It is advised to not go out unless absolutely needed, which is unfortunately the case for the whole working population if they wish to eat. Barely able to see what is coming five metres ahead the vehicles of the main road are also cautioned not to drive, or to do so slowly. The Nest for once has decided to not use the cables for transport as the smog is too thick. A rare occasion and extra hands are called in to deliver the posts and packages by hand instead.

    Chapter Aim
    The first actual plot has been released! So, what may seem obvious is that you try to solve the mystery I gave you. The most fun will be if you try to work together to solve it, instead of trying to break it through some generator or the likes. More clues will be released as the story proceeds, ideally every two weeks. The mystery at the end can't be solved without the other clues, so be sure to tune in for that!

    Do you have any questions regarding the chapter? Please ask them in the
    Bulletin Board
    belonging to this chapter. If it is about Golden City in general head off to the
    Inquiries thread
    . The DM’s and PM’s are welcomed as well, but try to avoid doing so as much as possible. Don't ask for an explanation to the mystery or for more clues, however! That would take away all the fun, all in due time.
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  2. Marianne Crain, AKA Wings
    It was hard to believe this entire damned mess had only started a week ago. Yet, chaos and fear were like that. They happened quickly, without warning, and their effects were felt long after. At least they still had a chance to do something about it.

    Marianne Crain, known to the public as the Cloak Wings, made her way across the rooftops on her patrol. Despite the thick smog, which forced her to travel much slower than usual, it was still evident that she knew these rooftops well, as she leapt across them with a lightness and ease befitting of her codename. She paused on the most recent one, straightening up and glancing out over what little she could see of the city, before shaking her head slightly and moving on, dark cloak fluttering behind her.

    Think, girl, think.

    The Bird was dead because she had known something and threatened to tell. Her murderer had then threatened the Thumb. Of all the people the murderer could have threatened, they had threatened the Thumb. That spoke of lofty goals, and though she believed firmly in the abilities of her fellow Inquisition members to defend the Council, she wasn't naive enough to believe that that would be the end of the story. If only it was...then we wouldn't have to deal with this whole shitshow.

    Focus. Keep moving and looking.
    She jumped into an alley, landing lightly on the ground, and walked out, tugging the hood of her cloak a bit more securely over her head. A few lingering faces turned to stare, but the streets were mostly empty here. She kept walking, sticking close to the buildings, a watchful eye on the smog as thoughts continued to simmer in her brain.

    The latest note. What could it mean? It seems like a cipher of some sort, but nobody at headquarters has anything yet, not for lack of trying.

    I'm a determiner at work...the hell does that even mean? It's the key, I think, but figuring out what it means in the first place is proving to be the difficult part. If we could just figure that out, maybe...

    She glanced up again, and paused. In front of her was the Golden City Post. She hadn't realized she was moving towards it, but now that she was here, it made perfect sense. Those reporters from the Falcon case, they work here, right? Or they did. They're smart girls. Maybe they have something.

    She walked up and pushed the door open, grabbing the shoulder of the first person she saw. "Find Thomas and Minerva for me, would you? Tell them Peeler's here to see them." She fought to keep a smirk off her face at the mention of the old name. The young man turned, opening his mouth to say something, but his eyes went wide and fixated on her cloak. He nodded slowly, eyes still wide, and she released his shoulder. As he sprinted off, she turned and walked to one of the wooden benches in the entry room, settling herself on it to wait.
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  3. Alfie Langretta - the Jackdaw

    The Jackdaw had once considered murder as mostly trite - unlike, of course, the brilliant and noble art of petty theft. What, after all, could possibly be the beauty in the ultimate end, with no hope for growth, for change? Blood and bones, ash and dust, all ever the same. As he had come to see more and more of what lay beneath the smog, however, he realized where he had been wrong; the murderer changes, the murderer grows. And so Alfie Langretta had made his compromise; murderers were trite, not murder itself.

    Alfie had been in the process of snipping a particularly fine patch of cloth (some new spangled checker pattern, white and blue) when he had overheard the frightened, panicked words of hysteria. ‘I’m coming for you? Coming for who?’ or some such. He had heard of the horrific murder which, to stick a further nail in the coffin of his former ideology, had been transformational, and turned into a game. Riddles, puzzles or some such.

    Which was all well and good, save for the fact that Alfie couldn’t read it!

    And so he had decided to start up something or another at the ‘Coal Shovel Tavern’. The name - which had been read out for him - was rather evocative of some less than generous opinions of its denizens, drunkards like coal shovelled into the incinerator. He had nonetheless taken to gallivanting across the Land and Underground alike to draw inquiring folk to the establishment, confident that none would decipher the poetic name in all its scathing glory.

    It was too early for drinking by far when the Jackdaw had decided enough folk had trickled in, taking to leaping atop the counter and tapping against his mug to gather the assembly’s attentions.

    Maybe now, someone would read him the goddamn papers.
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  4. The Sky, Overton Manor - Lady Almyra Grace Overton

    Seconds dribbled by like molasses taking its sweet time dripping onto the floor. Almyra sat in an overstuffed chair in her study with her arms crossed, one leg crossed over the other with her foot bouncing in impatient annoyance, and her eyes trained unwavering on the object of that annoyance. The Inquisitor held her gaze without flinching. The order handed down from Amos Fleming, that members of the Council were to be guarded at all times by one of the cloaks, was supremely irritating. Normally at this time of day Almyra would be tinkering in her workshop, but she'd never been fond of having an audience to her many mistakes and failures. With the firm suggestion (otherwise known in lofty circles as a polite order) that Council members remain within their homes, that meant she had nothing much to do to pass the time, other than stare at the Inquisitor and see if she could manage to make him uncomfortable. Two hours in, and she was pretty sure he was unbreakable.

    "Fine, you win." Almyra would have sworn she saw a hint of a smirk on the Inquisitor's face, but as she peered closer his face was still as stone. "If I am to be stuck with a cloak until the murderer is caught, then I suppose I shall have to do what I can to catch the murderer, for my own sanity." The stone-faced man simply lifted one eyebrow, just a hint of movement that spoke volumes. Almyra let out an irritated sigh. "Yes, yes, I know, I can't go wandering about the city. I'll just have to set my mind to solving this mystery from the comfort of my own home, won't I?" The Inquisitor gave no verbal response, but he did settle back into his chair without comment, so that seemed answer enough.

    Almyra made her way over to the desk on the opposite side of the large room and settled into the less comfortable chair behind it. A variety of newspapers was stacked atop it, already read earlier in the day before she settled in to stare at her unwanted guardian, and each one had something regarding the death of the Bird and the mysterious murderer who had been making such a nuisance of himself. That simply would not do, not so long is it inconvenienced Lady Almyra Grace Overton. She pulled out a stack of paper, a quill, a bottle of ink, and a pair of scissors. A shifting sound of wood on wood drew her eyes to the Inquisitor, who was now watching her with obvious confusion on his face. Almyra gave him a sharp little smile. "I've always been fond of puzzles. Let's see if this bothersome fool is any match for years of training and the boundless irritation of a bored lady."

    As she set to cutting out the relevant snippets of the newspaper for easy reference, she heard what sounded almost like laughter coming from the stoic cloak. This time she spared the fellow's hints of personality no attention. There was work to do, and when Almyra focused herself on a task there was no distracting her from it. She would solve this damnable mystery no matter how long it took, and that was all there was to it.

    Leaving The Underground, Entering The Land - Lucius "The Maggot" King

    Hacking, phlegm-filled laughter filled the air. It was unclear where exactly the noise came from, which was always the case in the echoing caverns of the Underground, but the smoke was thick enough today to make it an impossible to identify the source. Lucius strode on past the deranged sound with purpose in his step, toward one of the sets of stairs that ascended from the hellish pits of the city up into the merely terrible existence that was the Land. The planned events of the Pioneer's Jubilee had been sadly interrupted by a bumbling fool destroying a vital component of the Maggot's plans, and said fool had quickly been sent on a final trip into the Ovens in the middle of that same night. Lucius had since decided that the keys to a changed destiny should remain in his hands alone, never to be trusted in those of the drooling simpletons who surrounded him.

    Today, however, his machinations were set aside. Word had filtered down from above about a new bloody murder that stained the front pages of the papers red, and of a ballsy move by the murderer to up the stakes. There was some talk of riddles and such slipped to some of the papers, but Lucius had no idea what they were. Even so, he had a feeling he knew the broad strokes of the story better than most. Being a notorious criminal had its perks, the most useful of which was information shared amongst those looking to protect themselves by currying favor with the monsters who haunted the Underground. He ascended the steps with his mask firmly affixed, which helped to hide the rapacious grin Lucius could feel plastered on his face. A certain someone was threatening not just a member of the Council, but one of the most renowned Inquisitors to ever be unmasked. That was a game Lucius definitely wanted to play, and it certainly beat sweating to death in the noxious heat of the Underground.

    Mere minutes after making it up onto the Land, he found his way to the tavern the people had been yammering about. Coal Shovel Tavern. A humble name that seemed as if it would only server to remind its patrons that they were humble laborers and would never rise above it, not even when they weren't down in the mines. Lucius would never have stepped foot in the shithole without purpose, but purpose he had. He pushed his way in as someone started hopped up on the counter and started making noise with their mug, and he took an empty seat near the end of the bar with his mask still in place to hide his disfigured features. Enough of the smog was coming in that it wouldn't look odd, which was a nice silver lining to the shit weather. Lucius looked around expectantly, but most people seemed to be doing the same, only facing the guy on the counter. He shrugged and joined them, watching with open disdain to see if the strangely attired and poncy looking fellow was about to break into song and dance or if there was some other purpose to his attention seeking.
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