You're Invited [CLOSED]

[Jerelin]

You're Invited!
OOC Link :)
ONLY POST HERE IF YOUR CHARACTER HAS BEEN ACCEPTED

​

Garrison Carter walked through the foyer, his eyes studying the invitation in his left hand. They would all be here soon, he suspected. Yes, it was early but the early worm gets the bird! Or something like that. He had no doubt that the thought of a million dollars had caused them all a sleepless night and a hectic last-minute pack of their things. A smile spread his thin lips and his cold eyes glanced up to the ceiling. Too bad most of them wouldn't need the extra socks they packed, or the secretive item they hid well within a suitcase pocket.

A small meow caught his attention and the ice from Garrison's eyes melted. "Captain Picard!" He tucked the invitation into a random pocket and leaned down to scoop the orange Maine Coon into his arms. "Are you excited to see our guests? Hmm?" The cat purred in response and suddenly turned to face the front door, its ears perked at the new sound.

Outside, limousines were beginning to line the drive, and one by one car doors and trunks slammed as his guests were gathering themselves and meeting each other for the first time. Splendid. Garrison situated the cat and his clothing before nodding to the gentlemen at the large oak doors. At once they were opened, allowing the sunlight to stream into the mansion. Although some were still struggling with their luggage, he stepped out to greet them.

"Greeting, Friends! Welcome to my home. I hope the ride, and for some of you the flight, went smoothly. I trust that all of you are hungry, so I will keep this very short and sweet. You will find your bedrooms in the basement or on the second floor. The Master Suite is off limits, but there are five spacious bedrooms for you all. Yes, five. You will each be sharing a room."

"Inside will be some butlers waiting to attend you. Do not get use to them. They are to assist you in find your rooms and then the dining room, nothing more. They each will be holding an image of you and your roommate. You will go to the butler with your image and they will escort you to your rooms. Once you are settled, I invite you to the dining room for supper. I will not be attending, but feel free to eat and drink as much or as little as you wish. Although this is a competition, by all means, please get to know your fellow competitors."

Garrison Carter gave Captain Picard a scratch behind the ears before he continued. "Now, you all may be wondering what this little game is. You can think of this as a large scale Mafia game. Have any of you ever played it before? No? Before you arrived here, your limousine driver gave you a small envelope with a role inside. You were instructed not to open it until after dinner. I hope you followed the directions. Keep that role close to your heart and do not allow anyone to see it. Every role is different, but one is very important. Every night, one of you will be killed."

The gasps of shock and sudden looks of terror did not surprise him, but thrilled him. He smiled and laughed, shaking his head. "No, no! You will not be killed; it is a game, afterall. You will not be harmed, I promise. One of you has been assigned the role of Murderer. You will come to me in the middle of the night with the name of someone who you wish to remove from the game. That person will then be told of the circumstances and they will have to leave the premises by morning."

"To ensure that the person with the Murderer role is not the clear winner, each of you must decide who the Murderer may be. Every day will end with a majority vote on who has been the most suspicious. The person who wins the vote will have to leave the premises before nightfall. Everyone who is not the Murderer also got a role that will help them throughout the game play. Remember, don't tell anyone anything, or you will lose your chance at the money. The last person standing will win the money."

Garrison finally stopped talking and gave them all a warm smile. He turned his back on them to let Captain Picard down and back into the house before turning back and stepping aside. "Welcome to my home!"

[[ GM NOTES: My Introduction Post ends here. You will see me post again once I feel everyone has had enough time to get acquainted with each other. Feel free to have your characters explore or eat in the dining room. I heavily encourage character interaction.

No one will be dying in this round, so don't worry about that. As of right now, your characters only know the game plan, they do not know how real the game is. Your characters also don't know each other. Don't hesitate to ask any questions! Either PM them to me or post them here. ]]

 

[Wryneck]

A lone 37-year-old laid stretched out on a couch that looked like it came straight from a dump. Static-y infomercials buzzed on the cheap television set that was against the wall opposite the lazing figure. It was a Saturday afternoon, and this man didn't have any work to speak of. Not that he didn't have a job. Rather, today was his break, and boy, was it sure a break. The room the man resided in looked like it'd been hit by a mini hurricane and "left for dead". This wasn't any of his concern though, He wouldn't be having anyone over anytime soon, and the next inspection wasn't until next month.

A bottle of cheap liquor was held out in his hand, half of it already downed within the five minutes that it'd been open. He wasn't afraid to drink, regardless of the consequences. "Either I'll die first, or something awe inspiring will happen before I do that'll make living that long worth it. Either way, I'll be outta this shit hole," is what he always told everyone. He was an honest, untrustworthy man. The ironic bum. This is how his life would've continued, and how he would've liked for it to continue, had a knock not found its way to his door on that Saturday afternoon.

Plenty of time was taken to respond – plenty of time to get out of there after knocking – but what was meant for him from that knock wasn't something that would be running away. Not literally anyway. Had he not looked both ways outside of his apartment door, he might've not even noticed the envelope taped to his door . He snatched it off the door and took it inside, where he plopped his ass back on the couch and turned it over. Nothing was written on it but his own address, but he opened it without hesitation nonetheless.

Inside, there was a small sheet of paper and another envelope, this one smaller. He looked over the smaller envelope first, noticing that the words "DO NOT OPEN" were written atop the flap. A shrug and a toss was the response as the junior envelope found its new home on the man's table. He opened the sheet of paper that wasn't given any instructions and began reading. Most of it was a bunch of fancy words that he couldn't care to know the meaning for at this time, but the basic premise was understood. Of course, all this man really needed to read from the paper was the term "$1,000,000" and he was scrambling for a dictionary.

After making careful attention to understand everything he read, he let out a heavy sigh and tossed the paper over with its envelope companion. "Always a catch," he mumbled. Nevertheless, a sole suitcase was leaning up against his door about a week later. The male tried to bring his best fedora with him, figuring that's what he saw all the mafia folks on television wearing. He knew the "mafia" was usually bad business, but it was his chance to possibly win $1,000,000, see something awe inspiring, and maybe die. It was a win-win-win for him no matter what. Without caring to double check his belongings, he made his way off to where he was supposed to be picked up in a limousine.

---

The ride was pleasant for a bum like this one, as it was rare that he saw sights as beautiful as the ones he did on this ride. Rare in person anyway. It may have been beautiful, but he wasn't all for how long the ride took. Hours and hours of sitting upright in a stuffy car with a low roof; that definitely wasn't his cup of tea. He was glad when it was finally over as the limousine pulled up to a rather large mansion – one of the largest he'd ever seen. There were several other limousines already parked ahead of his, and he assumed these were the others that would be playing this "fancy rich man's" little game. He made sure to get out of the stuffy car as soon as the door was opened for him, and he was more than glad to wait for the driver to get his luggage out of the trunk for him. If they were going to keep him in a car like that for that long, they'd better know they're getting the luggage.

Once he looked up towards the mansion, luggage in hand, it seemed the proposer of the game had already come out to greet them. As expected, his clothes were only of the highest quality, and he spoke with the elegance and finesse of…well, a rich person. The lazy man just shook his head at all of this high-up antics and made his way towards the stairs. He knew in the back of his mind that'd probably be polite to introduce himself to the others who'd arrived. That was for later though. Now was the time to feel what a member of the upper-class society slept on for the first time.

Though the other who'd arrived were ignored, he was at least decent enough to offer himself up to his host. He waved at him as he approached, but kept his hand reserved after meeting him. "Gabe Hixel, 37-year old self-employed bum. I'd shake your hand, but God only knows where it's been since I got in that mobile death trap over five hours ago." He got a chuckle out of this himself, but the forced laughter he seemed to receive from his host showed it wasn't found as amusing by much anyone else.[/hr]

 

[Drifter]

His leather briefcase dropped atop the polished wood surface with a satisfying smacking noise as Salvatore looked over to Jerome with a weary smile. His business partner didn't look up, the computer casting a blue glow over the top of his dark, balding head and reflecting the document in his thick glasses. Salvatore chuckled and sat in his place at the desk across from Jerome's, "Milana kept me later than I would have liked. She's lucky I wrote up that contract for her employees to be ironclad, or else this little mess would cost her an arm and a leg down the line. I swear, the moment people start reading the terms and conditions, internet lawyers won't have a leg to stand on." It was then that he looked under his bag and noticed the corner of an envelope sticking out, addressed to him in neat scrawl, but it was handwriting he didn't recognize, nevertheless. The days of hand-written requests from potential clients were long considered to be extinct, so this mysterious leaf of paper seized his interest.

Almost as if sensing that, Jerome stopped typing and commented, "It came after the bills this morning. Must've been a special delivery." He tried his best to sound disinterested, but the older man could never hide when something had caught his fancy. Salvatore took note and chuckled to himself, tearing the envelope open with a swift, grand gesture, and unfolding the three sections until a note lay in front of him, lightly creased and printed on expensive paper. He pored over it twice, first believing it to be some sort of joke, but finally entertaining the thought that it could actually be a legitimate offer. People were unpredictable creatures, always doing stupid things... if there was any single thing his occupation had taught him, it was that. Yet, that didn't dissuade him from this scheme that this man seemed to have in mind. If this Garrison Carter really wanted to part with a million dollars, then, why shouldn't he put himself in the running for it?

As he detailed his thought process for why he believed it was a genuine article, Jerome sagely reminded him that he had accrued just over a week of vacation days and that they didn't have any important cases penciled in at the moment. "It's hard to be skeptical of an offer like this in the face of how good that money sounds," he justified to the man who was actively encouraging him to take the chance. Salvatore, for a litigator, was really not a cynical man. It was easy for him to see the worst in those who deserved it, but even in times of questionable morality, he was willing to give the benefit of the doubt. In this case, no laws were being broken, no lives were on the line, and he simply didn't want to be proven to be a sucker. After a few hours of sucking on the expensive fountain pen he still pompously signed his documents with, a bit of pacing, and a glass of scotch, he had decided that there was too much to be gained in the event that this wasn't a wild goose chase. He packed a meager suitcase and left Luccello & Meyers in his partner's capable hands for a few days as he boarded a plane from California to the east coast, where he hadn't set foot in years.
________________________________________________________________________________________________

He still tasted the coffee on his breath as the limousine pulled up to the mansion, and for some reason, that was all he could think about. It was definitely jetlag clouding his brain, making it impossible for him to focus on the greater task at hand. True, most people wouldn't get severely derailed from a three-hour flight, but Salvatore hadn't flown in over twenty years, much preferring trains and cars. In his mind, if God had intended for men to fly, he'd have stuck wings on their backs.

Smoothing out the collar of his suit jacket, the black-haired man stepped out of the low, long vehicle and grasped the handle of his ancient suitcase. He really only had the one, and even though it was mostly empty, the sheer size gave the impression of over-preparedness, an image he really preferred not to be broadcasting to this group of strangers, but he realized the futility of whinging. Casually refusing the assistance of the butler who stood at the ready in front of the door, Salvatore made his way into the spacious parlor and dropped both himself and his bag in chairs that sat next to a table prominently featuring glassware and champagne. It appeared he was among the last to arrive, as only a few bodies trickled in after him. He decided to turn his attention to the bubbly, rather than getting to know the faces of his fellow competitors. If this was truly to be a competition, then there was no point in getting too chummy right off the bat. In terms of physical challenges, he knew he was to be outmatched, but he had a sneaking suspicion that this was to be something more akin to a test of wits. Where wits and wills were involved, it was an unspoken rule of some great precedent that it was always best to play one's talents close to one's vest.

As he downed the glass of sparkling wine, his ears perked up to the sound of their host's voice. He listened intently to the rules of the game, noting with some horror, that it sounded like that dreadful party game that he had been forced into at so many of those conferences he had attended over the years. Swirling the frothy remnants of the drink in the expensive stemware, Salvatore pressed his lips into a thin line. He decided to keep an eye open and on their host at all times; despite his promise that no actual deaths would occur over the course of this game, he still immediately judged the host to be a man of suspect intentions, a rich madman of sorts, perhaps with a complex, who while appearing innocent at the moment, might have any number of delusions kept up in that brain of his. After all, the man had a cat.

He watched with interest as the tall man who called himself Gabe went up to shake their host's hand. The crass joke fell flat, casting an almost visible shadow over Garrison Carter's polite visage, and Salvatore decided to insert himself into the situation, another glass of champagne resting between his fingers. The thought had crossed his mind to simply leave, but in the span of "meeting" the bumbling and apparently classless Gabe Hixel, he had decided that he would win this competition, no matter what. If it was simply his job to discern the roles of those around him, it should not be difficult. Everything had suddenly been set in front of him like a case file, and he began taking note, slowly, of the couple of faces he passed as he crossed the room.

Extending his free hand to Garrison and shaking firmly, but keeping an eye on Gabe, he started off, "Interesting game you have set up here. I'm Salvatore Luccello, though you clearly already knew that to have sent me this." He withdrew the addressed envelope from inside of his jacket and flashed it alongside a broad smile, shifting to now offer Gabe a handshake, as it seemed only polite, "I'll admit, I'm not looking forward to having to share a room. I thought that part of my life was over after law school." He cautiously laid that piece of information on the table, both for a joke and also, importantly, to reveal his credentials. Taking a small sip of his drink, he took in a breath and then ventured, turning more towards Gabe as Garrison had already started off to mingle with the others, "What do you do, Gabe? Do you know Mr. Carter from somewhere?"

 

[Wryneck]

Gabe turned to the man that had most recently entered the building and gotten himself a glass of bubbly. It was something that he'd wished he thought to do himself. Though, this man wasn't near the bum that he was. Gabe had come only in a Hawaiian button shirt and gym shorts. He couldn't have known that everyone else would be dressing so formally. Not that he cared, but he knew that standing out was something that made more attention be drawn towards you.

Gabe offered the most genuine smile he could as the man introduced himself to their host as Salvatore Luccello. He was the next to be faced with an outstretched hand. Salvatore's words were met with a chuckle of agreement. "Does any grown man want to share a room in this day and age? It's just not something that's done. Unless…" he said, pausing a moment and exchanging a glance with Mr. Carter. "…you have the money to make people do what you want them to."

A hidden frown set itself across the male's face as he heard Salvatore mention his education history. 'One of them lawyer folk, huh? Seems natural at least one of 'em would show up where free money is being tossed in the air.' His thoughts were left behind as the male continued speaking, asking him how he came to know Mr. Carter. This was met with another chuckle, which was something that Gabe had developed as a bit of a habit.

"As a man of many different jobs, I've met a lot of people. He might've been a boss I never directly spoke to, and maybe he needed a bum to make his games more interesting." It was noticeable how hard Mr. Carter was trying to display amusement in all this, but his regret for his decision to include such a person was slowly beginning to grow. "I was probably just on a list or something and picked as a good candidate, I don't know. What I do know is that I could really go for some of that bubbly right about now…" With these words, his way was made towards the glasses, where he poured himself a nice tall one.

 

[Tempest]

Early morning light filtered through the wall of windows into the high-end pad that is the home of Ms. Bradford-Day. An alarm looses its shrill wails in the bedroom, the California king utterly bereft of its inhabitant and pristine, as if untouched. The alarm's furious cries echo out, down the hall and into the den, where Heather sits, staring idly out the windows, watching the sun rise with a grim expression. Her hands lightly clutch the bulb of her wine glass, idly rocking it back and forth to swirl the claret within. She inhales deeply and runs a hand over her eyes, resting back as she wonders just how far she had fallen; just what had happened to result in her, just starting to crest that hill that was forty, alone and drawing upon the charity of her parents. She raises to her feet, going out to the balcony and leaving the glass door ajar as she drains the goblet of its blood-coloured wine.

She fumbles with the pack of cigarettes she left out there, hidden behind the topiary, and tries to flick the lighter into life, a roll pressed between her lips. Sparks erupt from the Zippo, flashing before her face and dying, never living to be a flame. She wrinkles her nose and shakes the lighter to try again, looking out at the crimson-cast city so early... And all she could feel was a sense a bitterness. How many of those, who tried to much less than her and hardly even had the pedigree she possessed, were happy and content with their significant others. Her attention, so settled upon the city, she hardly notices as her cascading locks brush near the flickering flame with the gentle breeze and begin to release an acrid scent.

She curses and releases the lighter and it clacks to the ground before sliding beneath the rail and down to the streets before. Heather pinches the bridge of her nose, lips pursed about the cigarette as smoke trails from its end. Of course she would lose her favorite Zippo, gold plated and etched with a scene of lady luck herself. She sighs and takes a long drag of the cancerous stick before leaning over the edge of the balcony and flicking away the ashes, watching the flutter down and away. She was slowly begin to catch sight of her dismal position. Just shy of forty. Forty. Yet, she was nowhere near what she wanted her life to be. She may as well be back to square one, just with so many prospects tore away from her salon manicured clutches.

Wallowing, she almost misses the trill of the bell, hard as it was to hear over the demanding alarm. She stumbles, tossing the smoke out to the abyssal city below as she quickly grabs a breath spray and spritzes it within her mouth to mask the foulness left behind. She trips over herself, in her near transparent gown and nearly answers the door as the embodiment of what all women fear the morning to bring: A baggy-eyed, frizzy haired wreck. She looks at the mirror hung to the side and double-takes at the crypt keeper that gazed back, quickly smoothing her hair as the door rings out again. She draws her robe about herself and ties it and prays for the best as she opens the door.

There was no one there. She looses a choked sob, wondering if some calling suitor had grown impatient and left once more. She calls out, wondering if they were out there, yet, just within earshot. There was nothing, of course. She sighs, dejected, and closes the door once more, sinking back against it and to the plush carpet. She closes her eyes and lets her hands fall to the ground... Only to brush against an envelope.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The seventh day of the second month had seemed like a far distance away, but how could she resist. Anyone willing to throw around so much money and representing such a company was bound to be the top of high society, if a bit eccentric. She relaxes in the limousine, large bug-like sunglasses shading her eyes as she draws upon a glass of chardonnay. It was a rather bad year... And cheap too. Yet, it was better than nothing, she had resigned quickly.

Heather cranes her long neck, trying to peep out the window at the estate without actually straightening up. She was probably wrinkling her flowing red cocktail dress... And perhaps even mussing her elegantly arranged hair, but she had begun to lose hope that she would draw in good company at such an event. It was beginning to look like a sad joke of an arrangement instead of the works of some bored businessman. After all, from what she could see, the hedges were in a depressing way and, heavens, the lawn was just all wrong.

She was more than content to stay waiting within the transport, wondering if it was too late to back out. All too likely. She would have wasted the money on the first class ticket out here, as well. She looses a sad sigh and takes another drink from her glass before settling it upon the bar and slipping her feet back into her stilettos. She grabs her clutch and waits patiently as her escort comes back and opens the door wide for her. She leaves him waiting though, as she flips out her mirror, removing her shades for a moment to touch up her make-up. No point in not looking pristine, as hopeless as this may be, she had decided.

Still, as she uses the proffered arm of the driver to draw herself up and out, the picture of lady-like graces with her most charming smile fixed upon her face, she realizes she must have been the first to arrive, she looks about at those around. Heather quickly finds her spirits crushed and that the event would be far more abysmal than she could have hoped. There was a woman in a school uniform and some slob in a vibrant, multi-coloured shirt that had to be the most garish thing she had ever seen. She finds her smile beginning to fall, though she diligently kept it at least slightly present, forced as it may appear.

She draws herself away from the driver and pushes her sunglasses back up, waltzing into the mansion and finds herself studying the interior. Her disapproval could hardly sink further. That was, at least, until she spied him. She draws back and hides around the corner, watching him pass with utter horror. If she had known Salvatore was going to be here... Well, mentally, she had it set that she would rather die than be forced in the company of the cheating bastard.

Still, she finds herself curiously following after him, studying him in his going, only to finally see their host and hear his appalling announcement. Heather finds herself unable to remain quiet or pacified any longer as she clacks forward upon those sharp heels and pokes a jabbing finger at Salvatore's chest, "Alright, just what game are you playing, Salvatore? Did you get my address from my parents?" Her face is a mask of fury as she recalls just how they push her to contact the lawyer and try to patch things up, "I simply cannot believe you got so many people to play along in this clever ruse of yours! Well, let me tell you, we are beyond over and regardless of what you had planned this week, nothing could could change that!"

She looks with disgust around the gathering, "Ugh, and sharing a room!" She crosses her arms and sneers, "Simply disgusting, I can see right through this act. Where did you hire this schmuck, hmm?" she says, jerking a thumb at the host, "Making it all look like it was a merry little accident. And let me guess, it's going to just so happen, that you and I would share a room. I cannot even believe you would go so low!"

Heather huffs, taking a moment to reign herself back in before smirking, "But, I suppose that tells one thing, you and that office slut must have fallen through."

 

[Rainjay]

Katya was sitting with two neatly packed suitcases in one of the fanciest limousines she had ever seen. The arrival of the invitation some time before had greatly excited her, and now, she sat anxiously awaiting her arrival at the mansion. She sat with one leg crossed over the other and small glass of champagne perched in her hand, which she had sipped at during the ride to soothe her nerves, with her suitcases sitting to the right of where she sat. The glass also served a second purpose; if she had nothing to wrap her fingers around, she would surely turn to her made up face, worrying at the carefully applied foundation and powders until it was smudged and marred with fingerprints. She had spent quite some time applying her face before the limo arrived, and felt she'd be rather torn if she messed it up in her ride to the mansion. She'd have no time to correct her appearance while in the moving vehicle, no matter how smooth the limo drove.

She was dressed in an elegant, yet simple ensemble of carefully chosen clothing; a floor length black skirt made of a loose, flowing material, paired with an equally lose deep blue blouse. Both items did her figure justice, and although were not completely formal, maintained an air of power that Katya reflected off to those around her. It was this visage that provided her grace and supported her confidence. She wore it well, with her hair in cascading curls and eyes bright and wide.

The two suitcases beside her were packed with all she could ever need on this trip; most of it clothing and cosmetics, although she had supplied herself with emergency items and a small sum of cash as well, just in case. Her parents had always taught her to be well prepared for any scenario, although she wasn't quite so hyper-prepared as she knew her parents to constantly be. As it was, she had stowed away some pepper spray deep within one of her cases, hoping to never need to use it.

She had finished the champagne as the limo arrived, and set aside the glass before allowing the driver to help her out of the car. The two suitcases were lifted and set at her feet. She scanned around the crowd, taking in the faces of those around her; a mixed bunch, although she refused to make judgement at such an early point in this little game. Instead, she waited for Mr. Carter's greeting patiently, although his words came as a shock.

She had not expected any of this to be easy, but the game he proposed was almost too much. She thought to herself, for a moment, of how she could leave. If she would leave. But, the prospect of the prize held too large an allure in her eyes. She needed that money- she would be nothing without it, and doubted she could achieve her dreams otherwise. Why else would she have come? It seemed highly impractical and crazy, but she steeled herself and made up her mind- she would stay, she would fight, and she would win that money.

 

[Sircumstance]

Nathan was gasping for air as he shot up from the bed, fists tightened and eyes widened. The lines between reality and dreams were blurred for a moment before his logical mind took over, informing him that he'd recovered from a nightmare.

He sighed, pinching his nose and shook his head. It had been years since the tragedy and yet the memories of it were crystal clear to him. Since that fateful discovery, revenge had taken the front seat in his life. Blood was thicker than water after all, the bloodied scene of dismantled bodies would forever haunt him.

Turning on the night lights, Nathan reached over to the letter sitting quietly on the bedside table. A letter that could change his fate forever. He reopened the envelope and took out the letter. It read:

Dear Nathan,

It is with great pleasure that I write to invite you to my home on Saturday, 07 February 2015 for an opportunity to win $1 million. The evening will consist of a welcoming dinner, meet-and-greet with your fellow contenders, and a night of terrifying thrills. These thrills will be marked by some of your wildest fears, and in order to come out on the winning side, you must 'survive' the week. Only the survivors will win the $1 million.

The night will be sponsored by my company Anxter Industries. Additional information about the event, along with details about how to get to my home at the Riverbend Farms, are enclosed. I would be extremely grateful if you could R.S.V.P by no later than Saturday 31 January to [email protected] or 202-555-0105. Please advise us of any special mobility or dietary requirements you may have.

I hope you are able to accept this invitation and I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours Sincerely ,
Garrison Carter
​

The million dollars was secondary to him since Nathan had heard rumors of a certain somebody attending the event. While unaware of the identity of him or her, he'd heard that the mystery person held clues that could shed light upon the mastermind of the scheme. He heaved a sigh once more, he'd answered almost immediately to the invitation.

His dear friend Bill, an ally of his had warned him against his attendance. He cautioned him that this might be an trap to manipulate him. Nathan had shook it off, deciding that it was a risk worth taking.

As Nathan sank deep in thought, a sleek white cat hopped onto his bed and settled down on his lap. A rare smile spreads on his face and he stroked the graceful cat on her head. 'Gwen, oh Gwen. Why haven't you slept yet?' he asked, and Gwen merely purred before leaping off to return to her corner. He shook his head and a weak smile appeared. Gwen's the only family member he's left with and the sole survivor of the tragedy. Bill had agreed to take care of her in his absence. Nathan'd originally intended to bring her along but he didn't know if pets were allowed and so decided to opt for a safer route.

Deciding that rest is important, Nathan took a sleeping pill and washed it down with water. Returning to his bed, he took one final look at the full moon before closing his eyes. Excitement filled his mind before the medication took its effects on him and took him to a dreamless sleep.
​

~~~ll~~~
​

Waking up hours later, Nathan took his time to be ready. His suitcase had long being prepared for the journey and stood lonely near the hallway. A simple breakfast was prepared: two slices of toast, coffee and two soft-boiled eggs were all he'd ate. Wet meal was offered to Gwen, the cat. Bill is expected to arrive in fifteen minutes time to pick up the cat from him.

Nathan ate his breakfast in silence with the company of his beloved Gwen. The only sounds that echoed in the apartment was the flipping of the newspaper. It is important for someone like him to be updated with the world news. Soon, the bell rang and he sprung out of his seat to answer the door.

'Hey buddy,' Bill greeted and pulled Nathan into an embrace, 'What's sup?' A huge goofy smile was plastered on his face as he made his presence known.

'I'm fine and thanks for taking care of Gwen on such a short notice.' Nathan thanked his best friend, Gwen strolled right towards Bill and rubbed her head against his leg. Both men chuckled and Bill picked her up.

'Hello sweetie. Please take care of me alright?' Bill laughed and she mewed in response. Nathan gave his friend a packed bag of her supplies and gave a slip of instructions on how to take care of her. Bill nodded his understanding and within moments left the apartment.

Nathan himself wrapped up the breakfast and took a shower. His shoulder-length hair was pulled into a low ponytail and a tailor-made suit was donned upon. He glanced upon the mirror and ensured that everything appeared fine for him.

Taking the suitcase, Nathan shuts the door behind him and took the stairs where the limousine was waiting for him. The journey to the mansion was quiet, his mind occupied with private matters. Hours latter, he reached the doorstep and was greeted with a huge crowd of people. It appeared that competition is going to be fierce and he smiled, all the better for him.

'Interesting.' Nathan muses after the owner's introduction. A murder game? He haven't had such fun in ages and this might be amusing for him. Now all he'd need is to seek out his targets.​

 

[Skyswimsky]

"Bills, bills, ads, some more bills...eh? That's the third time that happened! And the recipient's name is always the same, someone is clearly messing with me! Hmpf. Oh, that one is from my sister, geez, can't she just use the internet like every other person nowadays? And what do we have here...? Anxter Industries? More ads?" All alone in her tiny flat the young woman was talking to no one in particular. Maybe it was a declaration of war against the natural gloominess in the small room. Even her best efforts in decoration could not, for example, the grey concrete wall that was right in front of the window. Or maybe Nina was just smart! As a wise man once said, talking to yourself is proof of a high intelligence. Whatever the reason may be, it wasn't of an importance, as the curious sister had already opened up the letter of new origin.


"$1 million? That's a lot of money...and even more in euro! But...this sounds really shady, or like a bad reality TV show." Not to mention she swore to herself to never earn so much money, since it makes people evil. But...if it is the real thing..." A small sigh, the european was thinking way too many things right now, the most tempting one being that, once she acquired some money, she would simply burn it. In front of everyone else. "Aaarrrgh whatever!" Throwing her arms up in exasperation Nina searched through a stack of magazines until she found one of the more occult ones, completely with a horoscope! "'A grave mistake will be made.'...So I should definitely not go? But what if the grave mistake is staying? FINE!" Now going through her wallet she took out a very old-looking coin. "Tails, I go!" Being a self-proclaimed professional coin-flipper, the coin wasn't long in the air until it landed in the palm of her hand, just to be placed on the back of the other. And well, with fate being rigged, the result was obvious. "Wee! America!.... ... or Canada? Or is it Texas? Or was it Mexico?!" Regardless, with her mind set onto a new goal, Nina had to get things into motion, including quitting her job and telling her sister and even mother about it, just to be sure. But that all had to wait for tomorrow, as it was already late now.

...

---

...

It was a true luxury, her first time in an airplane, completely paid by an unknown company, not to mention the luxurious ride followed by it. At first, the young woman looked for some sort of cameras, before giving up and simply enjoyed the beautiful scenery. In the end however, it was one of the butlers that woke her up, announcing her arrival with a yawn and a stretch. "Good Morning~" Needing a few seconds, Nina actually realized where she was. Finally here! Getting out of the car the young woman gave a gasp of awe from herself...so that's how it is to be rich! Well, if the owner of the mansion wasn't busy doing such events like right now, he could at least pay a lot of people to clean up all the dust, no?

Though before the younger sister had any way to advance her agenda, the presumably owner of the mansion spoke up, explaining the game rules and all. Well, that really sounded like some sort of reality show thing! And while one side of Nina thought that joking about killing was horrible, it also sounded very fun! "Urgh...I am not very good at deception...I think?" Well, there was still Plan D! Just getting like 10.000 Dollar would be huge for her! Surely the winner would be willing to give her a bit of it, just for sake of it...and...she would make sure to not be a complete stranger to everyone before going down!

Anyways, first things first! It took her not even a minute to shot her sister a message that she arrived successfully and would give her more details later. Yeah, reception was actually a thing for now. With that out of the way, Nina could now concentrate on the people in front of her! She didn't mind sharing a room at all, unless of course...it was a male, but obviously THAT would not happen, right? Moving towards the small crowed that has already gathered just inside the young cook made sure to introduce herself, or at least she planned to, until one of the womans made a fuss. Stepping in with a bright smile Nina spoke up."Nownow, there is no reason to lash out like that, right? Sure we might be competitors but that doesn't mean we can't get along, no?!"[/hr]

 

[Mapelle]

Mahiru was very late from what her invitation said, an overcoat over her dress as she hugged herself for warmth, her invitation tucked in one of the coats' many pockets. "Dammit..." She sputtered, the cold air surrounding her in the most chilling of ways as she looked out of what seemed to be a taxi's window. Towards her destination of course, which she took her precious time thinking about if she should actually attend or not. Well, she somewhat of a feminist to begin with, and being invited over to what was made out to be a man's home by the name 'Garrison' urked her. In her eyes, all men want sex and sex only, or that they are indecent perverts or stuff like that...She doesn't express her hatred too much, just small jabs and pointing out how insensitive they are towards things every once and a while. Well, her dad wasn't the best to her so she had reason to treat men as if they were stupid dogs.

The only reason she came is so she could meet Garrison, the lettered seemed to be as if others besides her were going to stay, as it did not directly refer to her other than after the 'dear' in the letter. Mahiru always had terrible luck, she knew from when she got in the taxi, planes, and etc. to get to Garrison's abode that she wasn't going to get a million dollars out of this. She was keen on surviving, but a million dollars is a word to her that entrepreneurs like Garrison would throw around to assume they had. Which in her cynical thoughts made her even more annoyed. The strange thing is, earlier she did try researching Anxter Industries and nothing at all came up. Curiosity struck her to find out the mystery behind this 'company' and now here she was, possibly risking her life and constantly wondering over what 'survivors' was supposed to mean. Surely if he was a big part of some kind of company he wouldn't just invite people over to kill each other, Mahiru even made a journal so if this really was the case, there would be evidence that it was.

The Taxi stopped and the taxi driver turned his eye to the destination, turning towards Mahiru and holding out a hand "That'll be 8 dollars 50." Mahiru then questioned why such a long distance from the airport would only cost that much, but she wasn't going to question a discount. She proceeded to hand him the money and walk out the taxi car's door, subsequently closing it. Mahiru checked her purse for anything she might've forgotten in the cab, then realizing she forgot her notebook she was going to record everything in. The girl turned around to the taxi cab- but....There wasn't anything there, which sent a chill down her back. It was raining heavily, now she forgot her notebook which if there really were murders, would be a big part of evidence against this crazy twisted game. She didn't even hear the taxi drive off....

She gulped and turned towards the house, an open gate in front of her to a long drive way with a courtyard stretching on either sides of it. She gulped as she took her steps towards the door, making sure her invitation was in her pocket so she wouldn't get kicked out or something. An overwhelming sense of dread surrounded her as she got closer, her footsteps could be heard over the rain and lightning striking every few seconds to add to the mood. When she finally got to the door, she looked down at the ground for a few seconds to think before looking up and knocking a few times, her fist shaking at the things that could occur within the house...

((that'smyintroductionpost and also she didn't get a limo because she was late xP))

 

[dalecOoOoOoOoOper]

Danny, oh Danny.

It was 11:06 PM, Chicago, CST. Danny was on duty at the moment, always working swifting through papers this time as he caught his desk duty. Unbeknowst to him did he receive a letter, as Daniel looked through entire papers worth of case files, domestic violences, gang murders, he got them. But he knew the signs from the gangs that paid him to keep him hushed hushed. He knew safely that whatever he did, he'd get his money to keep quiet, or so help him that he'd begun investigations. Danny looked around the papers, shifting through them hurringly to make sure he hadn't missed one case. He found instead an envelope, looking at it strangely as he opened it slowly, maybe full of cyanide but he took the risk. Upon finishing his read on it, he closed the envelope, speaking silently "Don't get yourself into this... But a million dollars... Fuck it, I'll go." And with that, in less than a week he had a suitcase with his items, his SIG Sauer in its holster and badge on belt.

--

"Garrison! I can't believe i'm here playing your game... Maybe I was smart, to not arrest you the first time I should have?" He smiled mischeviously and nodded, "All of it's safe with me." He looked around, walking inside his home and nodded to himself. "Nice place... Now where do we start?" He looked at the man, before walking to his room to rest.

 

[Pastor ćhoi]

The LA branch of the Choi church of choiness was not as big as the korean home office, but even in its relative infancy it had already drawn in a sizable crowd. They were mostly Asian Americans, with a smattering of white curiosity and a dash of other ethnicities. It was a sunday, and Pastor, both head pastor and director of the choi church, held court on his high podium. His flock attended diligently to their king, to their earthbound metatron who spoke of the Lord's will and want.

"My children," Pastor said, his voice rich and powerful. He was korean-born, but he had adopted the local accent reasonably well. "My beloved children, I am leaving you for god's work."

There was a collective gasp. A rising murmur of inquiry passed through the crowd, but wise and noble Pastor raised his hand for silence, and as quickly as it came, the crowd was soothed. One little girl even pointed at Pastor's open palm, shouting out that she saw the shadow of jesus briefly materialized around his fingers, teasing around them before disappearing. Her parents nodded in approval, and others around started seeing it too. How could anyone deny god when these small signs were around for all to see? How could the atheists and lesbians be so blind and arrogant that they could not see the light trying to guide them back into the fold? Pastor's heart was heavy with grief, for he could not save them all from going to hell to be violated forever and ever and ever.

"God," he continued, admiring the way some of the people in the front row sat up a little straighter when he talked. "has instructed me to participate in a game of death!" Another gasp, but he let this one play out. "Do not fret, children! It is a daunting task ahead, but I refer you to words of Timothy! 'For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind!' You are sheep without a shepherd in my absence, but I do this for a good cause! Though money of this world is crude and vulgar, we require it to pass through the world of flesh into the gates of the Almighty! I will win this game, and the currency will go to any charity of god that you deem fit, my children! Today, with the leave of the Father, you will make your own choice!"

Of course they clapped. It was what they did and it was what they were; seals at a circus. Devoted seals, but seals nonetheless. Pastor loved his flock, with their dull eyes and their rapt adulation, but he couldn't help wondering whether he agreed to this game because of the money or because he just wanted to get the fuck away from these seal people for a brief period of time...

"My children! It would be my honor to conduct one last cleansing with you before embarking on my grandest of missions! Last night, we found a fox out in the herb garden. It is a carnivore most foul, a crude thing that Satan has claimed ownership over! We must purify it through death! Bring the beast out! The altar boys will be handing out your batons, please-"

In life and in the light of christ, he was here to win. What was a game next to all he had accomplished by jesus' grace.

...

Pastor had forgotten what it was like to carry his own luggage, and he was never getting used to it again. The ride in the limousine had started well enough, until the driver had, perhaps a little tersely, interrupted Pastor's speech about hell to tell him that he was both a practicing Buddhist and a feminist. It got awkward then. It got very, very awkward. Pastor did try to, gently, inform him of the wrongness of his ways, but to no avail. Some people just lived for the promise of hell, sadly. Pastor left the limousine with both physical and spiritual baggage, a single, heart-shaped tear streaming down his old, wrinkled face. The driver didn't offer to help; clearly satan's callousness had already dug into this one's soul.

He felt dirty. A prayer was in order, one that would reinforce God's chosen and strike fear into the hearts of the non-believers.

"MAY THE GRACE OF GOD GUIDE US TO A WORTHY VICTOR. MAY THE PAGAN DEITY ATHENA WITHER AND DIE, SO THAT THE TRUE DEITY MAY OFFER TRIUMPH TO THE DESERVING. AMEN."

There was a vast silence that followed. Pastor took it as a sign that he was surrounded by atheists and their kinfolk. He sighed, averting the eyes of what he knew to be the unloved. He could try to change them through this game, a secondary goal next to charity of course, but he never had the best track record in the non-believer. They were too set in their ways, focused on the retardations of science and logic, and too immersed in their intellectual masturbation to see that every thing in the universe was guided by one single, guiding hand.

But he would still try. That was the difference between them and him, for he would try even as they resisted his love.

Luggage to room. Room to washroom. He needed to wash some of the filth off.

 

[Jerelin]

Garrison looked around at his guests; they truly were a mixed group. This was expected, though. Surely none of them believed that it was mere chance that they had been invited to his little game. Quite the contrary. They may not have known him, but he had been watching them for quite some time and new every little detail. His eyes scanned the room and he shook hands with those who were brave enough to make his acquaintance. A lewd joke here and an expression of dominance there, it was beautiful to Garrison although untasteful.

He turned and made his way to the dining room entrance and nodded to the butlers in the parlor. At once they lined up in single-file and walked briskly passed Garrison into the room. As the last butler entered, the door closed softly, successfully leaving Garrison alone with his guests. The gentleman was about to speak with a harsh female voice dominated the room. A dark glint filled his eyes and he allowed his lips to twitch slightly. Wonderful, the exes had met each other. He allowed the woman in red to say her fill and then clapped his hands to hush the crowd.

"Now, now. Don't be getting too feisty! The game hasn't even started yet," he said with a chuckle. "I would like to direct your attention to the doors behind me. In just a few moments, you will be walking through them to enjoy a nice dinner. Please feel free to eat and converse as much or as little as you desire. You will also notice that a single map is placed in your chair. This is the layout of my home and will assist you in finding your rooms. I want you to explore the house and make yourselves comfortable, so instead of straight-out telling you who your roommate is and where you will be sleeping, you will find your picture on the appropriate door. After dinner, you are also allowed to open the tiny envelope which holds your role and role information. Open this envelope when you are alone and remember to not share it with anyone. You chance at the million depends on it."

Garrison backed away from the door to allow his victims guests to pass into the Dining Room. "Curfew is 11PM. Everyone should be in their rooms at this time. Don't worry if you don't have a phone or watch to tell you the time. You will hear a loud bell at 10:50 and another precisely at 11.. If you are not in your rooms by 11PM, you will be eliminated from the game. Have fun!"

[GM Notes: Alright my lovely players. You have until 2/26 at 11:00PM CST to post at least once in this thread. I will not be posting constant reminders for posts. If something comes up, it is your responsibility to let me know. Your first post of this "phase" should consist of at least 3 paragraphs. Any following posts must be at least 1 paragraph. You may post as many times as you want before I submit my next GM post which will be on 2/27.

If you interact with anyone, please tag that user at the beginning or end of your post. No one will be dying this round so enjoy yourself and get to know your character. Remember, this is the time when your character will learn their role. Do not explain what your role is in the IC, but you are allowed to post their reactions. You will not be doing anything with your role during this round. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me.]

First Floor Blueprints

Second Floor Blueprints + Bedrooms

Roommate Assignments

Rooms were assigned at Random.
Room 1 - Heather and Salvatore (Tempest and Foxxie)
Room 2 - Gabe (Senpie)
Room 3 - Nina (SkySwimSky)
Room 4 - Daniel and Choi (ResistingtheEnlightened and Pastor Choi)
Room 5 - Katya, Mahiru, and Nathan (Rainjay, Ouchies, and Sircumstance)

@Tempest, @Foxxie, @Ouchies, @Senpie, @Pastor ćhoi, @ResistingTheEnlightened, @Sircumstance, @Skyswimsky, @Rainjay

 

[Wryneck]

Gabe had just finished downing the quality brew he'd poured for himself when some rambunctious, young woman came into the room. She started going off on the lawyer he'd talked to only moments ago, making it seem like the two really knew each other. A sigh escaped his mouth upon watching all of this. 'Just like it for some woman to come in and make things all personal...' the male thought to himself. Anytime he'd engaged in socializing with a woman, it only resulted in trouble. Hence why he tended to avoid them.

Another young woman would show up shortly after this one, but she would keep more to herself. This was good in Gabe's eyes, as he didn't want to have come all the way here just to find out a bunch of woman were going to turn it into a bitch fest. He was satisfied to see that the next arrival wasn't another female, but a male. His overflowing confidence didn't merit him any good will though. It seemed most everyone that was showing up was all "fancy" and whatnot. The more people that arrived, the more and more out of place Gabe felt.

Then another female came into the room, who examined her surroundings before confronting the two that had started arguing. She seemed to be trying to calm them, but this only generated a slight chuckle from Gabe. Getting mixed into such things was only a guarantee for more trouble. It seemed that poor woman was dooming herself to the clutches of the horrible wretch that came in throwing a fit.

The next one to arrive seemed to be a police officer. 'Great, just what we need... Even law enforcement is getting their hands all over such things nowadays, aren't they?' Luckily, this one only spoke to their host for a few moments before retreating elsewhere in the household, a man that had just recently arrived replacing his presence.

This one seemed no better, coming in yelling something withering pagans and the like, nothing of which Gabe could make any sense of. "Quiet down, will ya? No need to come in here making a bunch of noise." It was too late before Gabe realized that he'd just gotten himself involved in someone else's sphere of interaction. He let out a groan before he turned towards the bar, hoping the man wouldn't notice.

Gabe was just about to make his way to go about exploring the house when their host called all of them to attention. He mentioned about where they'd be eating dinner, as well as how to find the rooms where they'd be sleeping. He also brought their attention to the envelope they'd previously been told not to open yet, and were informed that they could open it by their lonesome after dinner. Gabe pulled it out of his pocket, scrunched up as it was, and looked it over. 'It's all decided by this, huh? After hearing the mention of a bell and the curfew, Gabe looked at his watch. Seemed they had some time to go about exploring their temporary home, and Gabe was all for getting the hell away from this crowd. It was all too lively for him.

Upon being dismissed, Gabe decided to go to the washroom to clean up. It wouldn't do him any good to have everyone yelling at him for being "improper". When he saw that the male that had yelled something about withering pagans was also there, he was quick to change his mind and look for his room instead. Washing up wouldn't be important. No one else was going to be touching his food anyway. Envelope and luggage in hand, the male went about looking for his room, in hopes that he'd be able to find out which crazy loony he'd be sharing a room with before they got to it. To his surprise, only his picture was present on the door. Without giving it a second thought, he entered the room and went about setting his belongings away.

 

[Sircumstance]

Nathan observed Garrison discreetly from the corner he'd chose earlier on. He didn't wish to be engaged in interaction with the other guests and is glad to be left alone... at least for now. Lurking from the shadows had always been his thing, using the darkness as cover while he gathered information to deal a critical hit is his MO.

As he continued his observation, Nathan's attention was temporary interrupted by the sudden appearance of a woman's voice. The harshness of it made his body tensed, clearly that stranger doesn't fit into his definition of what a woman should be. Call him old-fashion but it's his preference to have a lady who's strong-willed yet gentle and caring at the same time, something the stranger wasn't.

Thankfully the commotion ended sooner with the interception of the host. He was beginning to feel sick from the noise. Leaning against one the pillars away from Garrison, a knowing smile spreads on his face as he shook his head. He haven't anticipated the fact that he'll be sharing his living space with another or that there is a curfew. Either one of them will made his job a lot tougher than it already is and he bit his lips in annoyance.

Nobody seemed to pay any attention to him, something that Nathan's planning to use to his advantage. As he planned his next move, he was in the dinning room and managed to secure his seat.

The layout plan was laid on his seat and Nathan reached over to pick it up. He nodded at the person sitting to his right though his attention was more focused on the map instead. It wouldn't take long for him to commit it to heart. Since his clan dealt with the dealing and trading of information, every member has extremely strong memory. After all, the safest place to store knowledge is in one's mind.

'Hmmm... Interesting...' He muses out loud, a smirk appeared. It seems that things might be a lot more amusing than he'd originally anticipated.

 

[Tempest]

She had been about to wheel on the woman who spoke up to her before the host stepped in. With his words, she could feel the tips of her ears beginning to heat up with embarrassment. Of course, despite her ruffled state, she composes herself much as a cat who had just been caught stumbling would. She keeps her head high as she cocks her hip, crosses her arms and purses her lips into a thin line. Her gaze fixes on their host as he demands all their attention with his words... and she herself keeps a idly bored expression in her eyes with perhaps a hint of irritation.

Still, there she had it. More games to go with the games. He really could not make things simple. As sour as she was over this situation, she still tries to enjoy herself at dinner. She samples bits and pieces from the table, enthusiastic to try so much, but never so ready to take too much, regardless of how exquisitely it tasted lest she ruin her figure. Her eyes were steadily fixed between Salvatore and the new figure that was the holy man as she sucks a frozen treat lazily from a spoon. She still did not trust the former. The latter, though, was an intrigue. She was not sure, but she thought that perhaps she had seen him in the past on the news. He was the figurehead of some cultist sect or some such and was making waves in the water the conservative sorts were getting their pants up in a bunch over.

Still, after her previous blow-up, she was still nursing her wounds far too tenderly to engage anyone so actively in conversation. She had been made a fool of far too much. Then again, not like it greatly mattered. So many were beginning to look like the brooding sorts, if they were even up to her standards to bother with in the first place. So many disgustingly common-folk invited to such an event, it was almost insulting. It still left that niggling doubt in her mind that this was some grand joke to be played upon her, but she dare not speak out about such again.

So, with the conclusion of dinner, she gathered her papers, going to her appointed quarters. It was getting on in the evening, yet, and she would rather sleep off this unsavory event and greet it with a fresh mind. As her heels came to a clacking halt before the door, though, her stoic expression falters and she looks with utter disgust at the picture set alongside hers. Her first instinct was to tear the picture to shreds, go through the door and lock him out from within. That would serve him for this cruel joke, locking him out when he had obviously gone through so much to set up this lark. Still, she was just exhausted after this evening. She recalled the state of her life none too long ago, before this intriguing game had enticed her in.

Her rancor slowly slips away, leaving her clutching her envelope and map limply. If he really had set up so grand a show all for her, it was certainly endearing. He must be doing quite well for himself. Perhaps she might grant him a chance, yet. A trial night or two. So, that in her mind, she slips through and settles into one of the beds, her things already dropped off at the foot of it. She sighs and lays back, luxuriating in the heavenly embrace of the bed. She almost forgot about the envelope altogether as she began to drift. Still, she slices it over with a run of a nail along its fold. The contents spill out. She raises it to eye level, and her eyes sparkle, "Oh, this sounds like all sorts of fun."

 

[Pastor ćhoi]

He was a man of passions, he grew red with emotion after even a baseball game if he found it exciting enough, but he had to bite his tongue and force himself into a diplomatic mindset if he was going to survive this first night of many in this house and strange game. Stuffing his free hand into the pocket of his suit jacket, he coolly looked away from Heather's seething gaze, "First things first, I know nothing about this game. I wish I could take credit for it, because believe me, it should be an endless amount of fun." He swished the alcohol in his glass to punctuate the dry statement. Keeping his banter both distant and disinterested should make it easier on them both, hell, it might even calm Heather down enough for her to step down from the hellfire pulpit.

As he looked around, their host got up to finalize details of the game and he once again flipped through his envelope, trying not to appear too interested. Truth be told, he always loved a good murder mystery… any time it wasn't part of his job to defend one, of course. Unable to resist throwing in the last word before the whole assembly would fall hushed, Salvatore tilted his head to whisper closer to Heather's ear, "And my dalliance with her, as I told you at the time, was never meant to be anything serious, so 'fell through' is really quite inappropriate nomenclature. I ended it when I said I would, which coincided with you ending it with me. Case closed." He had timed it perfectly, as the host's beginning remarks cut through the leftover silence with surgical precision. Salvatore took a deep gulp of the liquor in his hand, not sure if he came off as bitter at all, but much too taken in by his surroundings to care.

The crowd finally dispersed to dinner, and then to find their rooms and Salvatore could almost feel the still-sealed envelope burning in his breast pocket. He loitered for a little while to finish his meal, evidently not in the hurry that some of the others had been. He also noticed, with some disappointment, how quiet Heather had been. A part of him wondered if she had heard his side comment, but the majority of his mind couldn't be bothered. He looked at the map in the empty dining room and figured that everyone, including his ex-wife, had gone back to their rooms to avoid accidentally staying past the curfew. Besides, there was a certain air of exhaustion in this house, and he couldn't blame some for retiring early. Salvatore stood from his chair, tidied off his place setting, and sauntered directly back to the entrance hall to take a seat for a few moments and read exactly what he was meant to do in this game.

Seated in one of the formal chairs, he slipped his index finger below the flap and slid the contents of the envelope into his outstretched palm, reading over the details of his role with a quirked brow, intrigued by the information he was seeing. Just then, he thought he heard footsteps behind him, so he shoved the paper back into his pocket and looked nonchalantly around.

"Do I know you, infidiel?" For such a heavy man, Pastor walked with a certain, smooth lightness to his steps. One of the many blessings from Jesus, no doubt. "You have Satan's air around you; a lawyer or a telemarketer?" Or worse, an english major. But even Pastor was not THAT rude. Non-believers -or believed non-believers who were believed to be non-belieiving- deserved no respect, but there were lines not to be crossed. He stopped right before Salvatore and squinted, his tiny eyes disappearing completely into his face.

Salvatore scrunched his face at the odd man before him, not entirely sure what he had done to deserve the moniker of "infidel", but he couldn't shake a certain sense that he remembered him from somewhere. "The air of Satan around me, eh?" he quickly makes two signs of the cross, one over his forehead and one over his heart, "God forbid, buddy. I'm pretty devout, myself. 'Make me a channel of your peace' and such." He scrutinized the man's face for a minute more and then chuckles, "But you are spot on, I am indeed a lawyer." Snapping his fingers, he decided, "Is that where I know you from? Did you ever stop by our offices for a case? Something to do with infringement of religious rights... not really our department."

Pastor's wrists and forehead seared with pain. As a man with a deep connection to the holy spirit, he burned where Jesus burned in his last hours. The agony inflicted by the Crown of Thorns and Helena's nail still hounded those who were true believers of christ, and it did so in the face of this non-believer's insincerity. Pastor bit back a scream; this devil's child would get no such pleasure for the venom he spewed.

Pastor forced a lot then: he forced a smile, and her forced himself to look at the man's face, at the christ killer's visage. He looked italian, but flesh was misleading. His true lineage was most likely to come from Caine, from Enoch, from Grendel and his Mother, from...

From that child molestation case.

"Yes." Pastor said, his eyes unsquinting into asian exsistence. "Yes. I know you now. We approached you, but..." Even Pastor felt this was a low blow, but as God as his witness, it was the truth. "But you and yours are the kind of lawyers guilty people hire. We could not afford that kind of image. Because I -we- didn't do it. Of course."

Truth be told, this weird, rotund man was starting to give him the creeps, and he quickly thought back to the role he'd just been assigned and offered a thankful prayer for it. Perhaps he didn't quite understand it, but he felt it afforded some sort of safeguard against whatever lot this odd figure had managed to draw. Honestly, he suspected the man to be trouble... or maybe he was just always this bizarre? He took a moment to muster a laugh at what he sincerely hoped was a joke.

"Guilty people pay well," Salavatore said with a gleaming smile, the one that truly won attorneys the name 'sharks', one that every lawyer could fling at a mirror practically since the onset of their career, "I kid, of course. I know the public gives lawyers a pretty bad reputation, but our firm has been defending the wrongly accused in high profile cases for years now." He extended a hand, but he doubted this pastor would touch it even with rosary beads wrapped around his fingers, "It's truly a shame that you weren't being framed for murder... that's our forte." With another quick laugh, he added, "Although, after tonight, who knows, right?" If he could get anything from this belligerently off-kilter stranger, any hint of the other rules and roles in play, then maybe he'd feel a little more at ease with this game.

The pain intensified. A vision struck Pastor then, of the so-called wrongly accused infidels who had escaped justice thanks to this horrible man and his horrifying profession. Pastor did not even notice the hand, so great was his pain and his grief. And now, the lawyer had insinuated that he was to be a client, to catergorize him with the rest of the non-believer scum. O, what veiled insults this serpent could toss! What shade his tree could cover! His laughter was like a dentist's drill on the chalkboard of Mammoth, a great demon and commander of Lucifer's legions.

"I..." The serpent had gotten him. He was beaten this round, but the war was not yet lost. "Indeed," Pastor said, gritting his teeth. "Who knows what could happen? God has given me a role in this game of infidels, a role most suited for me. I shall not need a lawyer, I think."

But was it because he wasn't the murderer, or because Pastor was just that good?

"BASEBALL!" Pastor yelled, suddenly and inexplicably. "BASEBALL!" Pastor's eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head, the whites showing. "BASEBALL!" The pupils returned as suddenly as they left, and Pastor once again stared at him with undisguised hostility, as if nothing had happened.

Salvatore grinned at the man's quip and had made the mistake of looking down, not noticing just how Linda Blair the scene in front of him had just become, and answered what he thought was a nervous attempt to change the topic of conversation, "Yeah, those Orioles are actually doing quite well this season. I got into baseball in college and Baltimore's teams were close enough to Geor---" He caught a glimpse of the pastor's convulsions and stood upright, afraid for a moment that he might legitimately be dying, or perhaps so invested in this charade that, having been told that his time was up, decided to go all out. As soon as it came, though, it appeared to vanish, leaving the Asian man standing calmly near the chair. Salvatore grit his teeth and shook his head, "You know, I think it's closer to 11 than I had originally thought. I'm going to get into some pajamas and just go to bed." There was no easy way to say that one's terrified of their conversational partner, so he tried to run away with all of the tact he could muster. Taking a few steps on the stairs, he didn't look behind him, no longer caring if that could be considered rude, but he kept his ear open in case it sounded like the man had collapsed or something.

He need not have bothered. From the moment he turned his back on Pastor, all sound stopped. There was a silence now, a quiet so deep and so profound that it seemed to be draining the air from the room itself. Then, there was the flap of a gull's wings, and sound that could have been a crying woman, if it came from the slit throat of a baby seal. "The worlds..." sang the wind and the seal and the gull of death. "The worlds...."

Upstairs, Pastor was still washing his face for the last 6 hours. He had never left his room. Or so he would claim, if asked.

 

[Jerelin]

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. The time was nearing 11. A loud bell suddenly rang out all about the mansion. It was 10:50. Everyone should be on their way to their new bedrooms. Garrison stood in the lobby, listening to the sounds of footsteps above him. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. The bell sounded again signalling the passing of 10 minutes. Everyone should be in their bedrooms. With a small smile, Garrison walked to his chambers, sat down in front of the television, and turned it on to reveal several channels of video camera footage. Yes, everyone was in their rooms, except for one.

His eyes narrowed as Captain Picard jumped into his lap with a meow. "Yes, Captain. We do get to have a little fun tonight. It appears that young Katya missed the memo about the curfew." Balancing the cat against his shoulder, Garrison stood back up and left the room, humming a small tune and making his way to the night's first victim.

[GM Notes: No posting will be taking place at this time! Do not respond to this update. If you have an active role, I will be PMing you now to figure out what you want to do for the night. You have until March 3rd to respond to my PM. As soon as I have everyone's actions, I will get the next phase up. If you have any questions, ask me via PM.]

@Tempest, @Foxxie, @Ouchies, @Senpie, @Pastor ćhoi, @ResistingTheEnlightened, @Sircumstance, @Skyswimsky

Marks for Missing Posts: If you miss 2 posting phases in a row, you will be kicked.
Ouchies - 1
ResistingtheEnlightened - 1
SkySwimSky - 1