Plot Challenge: Two in the Grave


Original poster
Invitation Status
  1. Not accepting invites at this time
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
10AM - 10PM Daily
Writing Levels
  1. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Female
Romance, Supernatural, Fantasy, Thriller, Space Exploration, Slice of Life

Plot challenges are designed to help you think quick and be inspired. We often play this game in the cbox, shouting out random words or phrases and see what ideas first pop in to people's heads.

To Participate: THINK FAST. Don't waste any time. The first idea(s) that comes to mind, write it down and post it!

NOTE: If you decide to borrow someone's concept for a roleplay, make sure you give credit.

Challenge Phrase
Two in the Grave
The country of Velsaria was founded by a triumvirate of heroes - Velasi the sorceress, Sir Terag the Invincible, and Maeraat Unseen. It was ruled by the three until Velasi and Sir Terag were murdered...and now Maeraat must find out who killed them and bring them to justice...lest she find herself the next target.
A group of historians and truth seekers set out on what they believe is a treasure hunt, guided by a long lost journal from the 1800s. The journal states several clues (one of which is "two in the grave") painting a trail for the adventurers to follow and it becomes evident that the journal is linked to a local legend about an upper class Spanish woman who was said to have been rather wealthy. It claims that she suddenly disappeared one day and was never found. It also speaks of her most treasured possession. Thinking that this possession would be something worth the trouble, the group follows the tricky clues in the journal until they're led to a hidden tomb. There are two stone graves inside the tomb, one much smaller than the other.

It's only then that the group realizes that the wealthy Spanish woman's most treasured possession...was her child.
It was the find of the century, a neanderthal and a homo sapien in the same grave site, the kind of find to make careers, the kind of find to kill for. For some reason someone doesn't want it made public and the team is mostly disappeared or bloodily murdered and symbols of the occult are appearing with startling frequency. These bodies are worth more than first meets the eye.
They were the best of friends, they were the best of lovers, they were the world to him. One day, when Lucy finds her two best friends in the grave, she goes out of her way to find out who killed them. Was it a simple suicide or was something more wicked afoot and can she figure it out before she is killed herself?
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Marcella stood over the man as he begged for his life, her eyes cold as ice fixed on him as she slowly pressed the barrel of the rifle into his mouth and then pulled the trigger. It was a quicker death than he deserved after what he'd done to her, but she climbed out of the hole and covered him with dirt.

Right next to it was another fresh grave. "Two in the grave...three to go."

She was finally strong enough to take her revenge, and she planned to see every one of them dead.
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Instead of "one foot in the grave", a canine type of alien uses the term "Two in the grave" when referring to being close to death. The rule of halves apply to them too, it seems.
"Is this what you wanted?" she warbled angrily, her body shaking as she stood over the open grave, looking down at the casket inside. "Is... is this what you wanted so badly? Are you happy you got what you wanted?"

She slid down onto the ground, the elaborate headstone towering over her with the Vatican's angels peering down, the white marbled caked in grave dirt and vines and neglect. The name barely stood out, engraved into the placard on the front: Monsieur Pierre Roquefort.1878-1899. A Son of God. It didn't even have the decency to rain down on her in the graveyard, here near the moment of dawn, no fanfare or pomp to make this moment congruous with the despair that clawed at the middle of her chest.

"No, you can't be happy. You're dead," she sobbed with gritted teeth, chucking a clod of dirt back into the opened grave. Her black dress was a mess of dirt, her fingernails bleeding and cracked where she had dug so hard. Her skin was a worrying pallor, her lips a stark red against the pearl of her teeth.

"I had thought when you passed on that I would finally feel freedom. My kind... we do not need you pitiful men. You live such short lives, like may flies in the summer. But here I am. And I pine so hard. None other has come close to the chase you gave me," she spat at the coffin. "And now, I know what it is like to want to die. To need to die of a broken heart, but unable to pass on. I don't have the guts to do what Delphine did in Louisiana. I can't set my house ablaze and die inside with all my sins surrounding me, screaming. But I have no absolution, either."

She felt a tingling on her skin, a faint sensation of burning on the back of her neck, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You granted me mercy. You told me that I had it in me to neglect the nature of my kind, as man neglects his own evil nature and turns towards God. But would God accept me?" she asked, shaking as the sensation increased in intensity.

"I don't think it would matter. If you are more merciful than the God you serve, than I would sooner flee from his judgment. He is no worthy deity to bend the knee to," she continued, her eyes set firmly on the casket as they brimmed with tears, both from sorrow as well as pain.

With a sudden realization, she wondered if this were the right course of action, of what might actually await her on the other side, and she managed to croak out, "Pierre, I'm sc-"

She exploded into black ash, the sun peeking fully over the horizon and beaming down onto the open grave, now covered in what seemed to be black soot, a mess for the grave tender to wonder at as he made his morning rounds.
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