The Fifteen Strangers Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
strangerpeople) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
15strangers2017-04-22 12:31 pm
strangerpeople) wrote in 15strangers2017-04-22 12:31 pm
Entry tags:
THE MOCK INQUISITION
[Soon after the final clue is found, there are three more loud, unsettling tonal clangs. Those in the first floor vestibule will hear another, loud creak afterwards, coming from the set of doors.
The set of doors on the left are slowly opening, revealing a long, long corridor, with a very long flight of stairs going upwards just barely visible at the end of it.
The Intercessor's voice booms through the air and shakes the ground, sounding loud and clear no matter where the Titled might be standing at that moment.]
ENTER!
[The voice brooks no argument. As soon as everyone goes through the set of double doors, they close behind them. There is no choice. The Titled must go up the stairs at the end of the hall. They feel like they take forever, but when the stars are finally traversed, there is a single door at the top, already open to them.
Welcome to the Debate Hall, Titled. Its perhaps the best-lit place you've seen, with gas lamps on the wall bright as possible. Its also the emptiest place they've ever seen so far - its massive and yet the Titled and the Intercessor are the only individuals to be seen in the entire area.
So, Titled, don't mind the faint chanting coming from the darkness behind that stage at the other end. There's no real way to hear what's being said, no matter how close you try to get, or if there's even anyone on or behind the stage to make such chanting possible. The only person remotely close to the stage, standing on the stone steps, is the Intercessor. Maybe its in your mind. You've been paranoid the past week, after all.
Maybe this is just all insane to begin with.
So. Take your seats at your stone desks to face one another as you debate. And yes, they are stone. Yes, they have stone chairs with which to sit in. And yes, your Title is on your assigned chair, etched in with chisel and hammer. Every desk also has a copy of the Writs with Orders 7 and 8 circled, and a copy of the autopsy file of the deceased on top of it; that is all the aid you will get from whoever brought you here. The rest, it seems, is up to the Titled, with what they have found.
Once everyone has taken their seats, the strange, ominous chanting stops. Its time. Bound in blood, the death warrant has already been signed. The contract is complete. Its now just a question of finding the guilty party to fulfill the call for justice.
The Inquisition of Kanna Hijiri has begun.]
The set of doors on the left are slowly opening, revealing a long, long corridor, with a very long flight of stairs going upwards just barely visible at the end of it.
The Intercessor's voice booms through the air and shakes the ground, sounding loud and clear no matter where the Titled might be standing at that moment.]
ENTER!
[The voice brooks no argument. As soon as everyone goes through the set of double doors, they close behind them. There is no choice. The Titled must go up the stairs at the end of the hall. They feel like they take forever, but when the stars are finally traversed, there is a single door at the top, already open to them.
Welcome to the Debate Hall, Titled. Its perhaps the best-lit place you've seen, with gas lamps on the wall bright as possible. Its also the emptiest place they've ever seen so far - its massive and yet the Titled and the Intercessor are the only individuals to be seen in the entire area.
So, Titled, don't mind the faint chanting coming from the darkness behind that stage at the other end. There's no real way to hear what's being said, no matter how close you try to get, or if there's even anyone on or behind the stage to make such chanting possible. The only person remotely close to the stage, standing on the stone steps, is the Intercessor. Maybe its in your mind. You've been paranoid the past week, after all.
Maybe this is just all insane to begin with.
So. Take your seats at your stone desks to face one another as you debate. And yes, they are stone. Yes, they have stone chairs with which to sit in. And yes, your Title is on your assigned chair, etched in with chisel and hammer. Every desk also has a copy of the Writs with Orders 7 and 8 circled, and a copy of the autopsy file of the deceased on top of it; that is all the aid you will get from whoever brought you here. The rest, it seems, is up to the Titled, with what they have found.
Once everyone has taken their seats, the strange, ominous chanting stops. Its time. Bound in blood, the death warrant has already been signed. The contract is complete. Its now just a question of finding the guilty party to fulfill the call for justice.
no subject
Well. At least I see the humor in it.
[He leans in, stroking his very fetching goatee, staring at Karolina.]
But...oh, this did just get very interesting, didn't it?
You can see me. You can talk to me. I like where this can go.
no subject
She gets to be an outsider again.]
I'm either finally going crazy, or I'm actually talking to a ghost. Great.
no subject
[The man sounds very pleased with that potential end.]
But! There's another possibility. Your...what do they call it here? Title!
Balanced, I take it?
no subject
Do you know anything about what happened here?
no subject
[At her question, his smile seems to sharpen.]
You mean the murder? Why, lass.
I saw the whole thing.
no subject
[sup guys shes still over here just talking to herself its totally cool]
no subject
[A beat.]
Well!...ok, it is that easy, but that would actually be a bad thing. For reasons...that if I told you would inevitably get you killed. Probably.
...
But I'm not that cruel! Or, I can be, but I won't be. I'll give you a little something to...narrow down the suspects, hm?
How does that sound, lass?
no subject
It sounds like you're not going to give me many other options.
no subject
[He leans back, satisfied.]
Now. The killer...they had...short, dark hair.
...
At least the hair was dark in the dark. What? Color's relative in the dark! Nobody's got light hair in the dark! Except maybe Spiky over there, but his hair's just ridiculous.
[Thumbing towards Santa.]
...So...dark hair, relatively.
Short hair? Absolutely.
no subject
The killer had short hair? [She's repeating it out loud, for the others benefit-- no matter how insane they probably think she is.]
You can't do better than that? How short are we talking?
no subject
He is looking towards the stage, before he turns back to Karolina.]
Shoulder, but not much shorter. Ah...but it seems someone's looking in your direction, lass.
[Even though there doesn't seems to be anyone there on the stage where he turns back to look.]
I'm afraid I must leave your sight...for now.
But I will be watching.
no subject
...Thank you, for your help. [Once he's gone, she straightens herself- and turns back towards the others. There's more focus to her, than there was before.]
I know I just sounded crazy, but there was someone there just now.
no subject
Are you going to say there are ghosts now?
no subject
no subject
no subject
He told me the killer had short, dark hair to around their shoulders. He wasn't positive about how dark. It's something to consider at least.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[ She doesn't think you're crazy at all, congrats. ]
no subject
no subject
[ That would... rule out a lot of people. ]
no subject
no subject
[ Head tilt. ]