The Directors (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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griefstreet2022-06-04 12:00 pm
thedirectors) wrote in griefstreet2022-06-04 12:00 pm
Entry tags:
A MURDER MOST FOUL
Rain begins to pelt the roof and windows at around 7:50 PM. The wind shrieks and howls outside, threatening to claw its way into the very house and tear it apart. Appropriately dreadful weather for the dreadful night that would soon ensue.
At around ten past eight, a terrifying, blood-curdling howl is heard from upstairs. Captain Ahab, screaming of murder, bloody murder!
It takes little time for you all to scramble upstairs and into Mr. Lionheart's room, but the scene that greets you is ghastly. It's hard to make out an expression of any kind, but he looks almost...angry. Perhaps a tinge fearful. Whatever the case may be, it's the last expression he'll ever make. For currently, Mr. Lionheart's dead body dangles halfway out of his bed, threatening to fall onto the floor.
A peel of thunder shakes the very foundations of the house as lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating Edgar Lionheart's frozen face. Looks like dinner will have to wait until later.
Dare you investigate?
INVESTIGATION
Multiple characters can investigate the same points of interest. You want to hold John Smith accountable for what he found in the trash, don't you? Knowing what sort of evidence someone is trying to hide during discussion is just as valuable as knowing what the evidence is.
For accessibility, the available points of interest are:
no subject
[Damien was already on the second floor when he hears his brother calling for help. And as much as he wanted to ignore it, it's hard to turn a blind eye when your brother is screaming in pure horror. He rushes into the bedroom and barely suppresses a scream himself as he sees his father, dead.]
We... should probably call the cops, shouldn't we?
[God he doesn't want to look at the body. He walks past the bed and looks at the window, before he eventually notices the trash bin and decides to quickly root through it. Maybe there was some useful shit that the murderer through out.
no subject
There are three windows lining the rounded end of the room. The one in the middle has been opened, with the surrounding curtains being billowed by the blustery wind. The storm rages outside, drenching the carpet below the window with rain.
If you bear the wind and rain to poke your head out the window, you can make out a metallic glint in the grass some distance away from the house. It’s hard to make out what it is through the darkness, but from the shape, it looks like a candelabra. You can’t get it right now, unfortunately…but maybe you should shut the window before there’s any more water damage to the floor.
TRASH BIN
Ah, the trash bin. A mystery solver’s natural habitat. You root through the garbage in an attempt to discover any pertinent evidence. Most of the trash seems to be filled with used tissues or random scraps of paper, but at the bottom of the bin, you find a newspaper–The Daily Rag. Looks like it’s this week’s issue, and the front page story is Lionheart’s own 75th birthday party. It makes mention of the fact that Damien Lionheart returned to town last week.
One of the gossip columns posits that Mr. Lionheart is in a secret romantic relationship with handsome math professor Professor Moriarty. Another one suggests that Damien Lionheart came back early to visit one of his numerous paramours. The personal ads page features a half-page advertisement for Jimmy McGill’s law firm. It’s rather poorly designed, but it puts Jimmy’s face front and center.
The back of the newspaper is an article about the aftermath of Uncle Deadly’s trial and how the Lionhearts were affected by the accompanying storm. There are a few “exclusive interviews'' with fellow directors and producers associated with Deadly, though nothing is particularly interesting. It notes that this week was the fifth year anniversary of Kit D. Buckett’s death.
no subject
His body language is the same as always- stiff and ambiguous, giving away nothing. He certainly doesn't look that distraught by the death of his employer. His head tips slowly to one side as he makes eye contact with the corpse, before approaching the bed with nearly-inaudible footsteps.
He's not sure what he's feeling right now. There's rage- that's easy enough to identify, he's used to that- but something else, too. Whatever it is, he doesn't think he likes it.
His right hand balls into a fist. After a long moment, he relaxes it again.
The Shape's attention shifts away from the corpse, as if no longer interested by it. He focuses on the rest of the bed first. Once he's decided he's seen enough there, he steps around the body to one of the nightstands- whichever one he normally leaves Lionheart's medication on.]
no subject
The bed is a mess, even without the body half-dangling out of the sheets. You can easily see a small amount of blood splattered along the pillows and the headboard. Mr. Lionheart’s legs are tangled up in his blankets, which is preventing his body from completely slumping onto the floor.
Although the bed itself may be unremarkable in terms of evidence, there’s more to be had under the bed. Crouching down and peering below reveals a lot of dust and what looks to be…a closed pill bottle. Huh. It must’ve rolled under there, somehow. If you pick it up and inspect it, the label states that this is heart medication. It’s half full. (Or perhaps half empty?)
THE LEFT NIGHTSTAND
You approach the left nightstand to take a closer look. An open bottle of pills has been knocked over, its contents scattered across the ground. The bottle label states that this is heart medication--identical to the one you just found under the bed. Your shoes squish against the wet carpet as you look down at the floor, where you see a cracked drinking glass laying on its side at the base of this nightstand. Small pebbles of broken glass can be seen glinting in the carpet threads.
As you step back and take a look at the wider room, you realize that the nightstand on the right has a decorative, metal candelabra on it, while the nightstand you’re currently inspecting does not.
no subject
Deadly shudders, and hangs his head low.]
Oh, Edgar.
[His voice is heavy, filled with emotions he’s only had to pretend to have before.
A real corpse is much different from a prop one, and the corpse of a friend even more so. For that reason, Deadly keeps his distance from the scene itself and instead investigates…hm…how about the bookcase?]
no subject
Near the entrance of the room is a small bookshelf, only about four feet tall and two feet wide. Most of the books seem to be light reading material, with a focus on adventure novels and the occasional self-help book sprinkled in.
On top of the shelf, you find what seems to be a daily journal. Most of the entries include important appointments and other events. As you flip through the pages, you notice a few things. One–Lionheart seemed to meet with Professor Moriarty quite frequently, at least twice a week. Two–there was an appointment last week pertaining to Mr. Lionheart’s will, though no name is associated with the entry. Three–next to today’s entry (which just says “birthday party”), there is a neatly folded piece of paper tucked into the journal that has the following written down in scrawled cursive:
Guest List
- J. Moriarty
- J. McGill
- U. Deadly
no subject
no subject
Unthinkable... Simply unthinkable... What a horrifying tragedy...
[The old man lets his features fall into a frown. How sad. How very sad indeed. He makes his way over, first taking a look at the left bedstand which was closest to the body, and then, kneeling down to observe the body itself. He doesn't touch it, though. The last thing he wants is his fingerprints on a corpse.]
no subject
You approach Mr. Lionheart’s body, and you brace yourself to deal with this gristly business. The body dangles awkwardly out of the bed, threatening to slide onto the carpet below. His head is pointed towards the floor as he slumps forward. It almost looks as if he was in the middle of falling out of bed. On the right side of his forehead is an open wound, blood still dripping onto the carpet. The skin appears to have split, with significant bruising around the wound itself. You’re no medical expert, but this looks as if someone hit him hard.
A small amount of spit and foam can be seen dripping from the corner of his mouth, his pupils are dilated, and his face seems pale and sweaty. Both of his hands are clenched into tight fists. Alas, prying open his fingers reveals that he is holding nothing in either hand. Who could possibly commit such a ghastly deed?
[ shitty drawn diagram of body pose ]
LEFT NIGHTSTAND
You approach the left nightstand to take a closer look. An open bottle of pills has been knocked over, its contents scattered across the ground. The bottle label states that this is heart medication. Your shoes squish against the wet carpet as you look down at the floor, where you see a cracked drinking glass laying on its side at the base of this nightstand. Small pebbles of broken glass can be seen glinting in the carpet threads.
As you step back and take a look at the wider room, you realize that the nightstand on the right has a decorative, metal candelabra on it, while the nightstand you’re currently inspecting does not.
no subject
[ Jimmy is finally able to barge up the stairs (not even pretending to take his fake bathroom trip) and is near immediately greeted by murder most foul.
He curses to himself several times, before sort of retreating. Jimmy is not one for bodytouching and it shows. Though he sort of keeps an eye on these creeps (especially Michael), he’s mostly going to be chilling by the fireplace to keep himself from getting sick. ]
no subject
As you approach the fireplace, you notice that there isn’t any ash–just a lot of dust. Looks like this hasn’t been used in a long time, and if you poke your head into the fireplace and look up, the chimney seems to have been bricked up. A large, rectangular mirror hangs over the fireplace, reflecting the grisly scene behind you.
If you take a small step back, you’ll notice that there is a barely perceptible vertical crack that runs along the edge of the mirror to the floor. You pause, taking a moment to assess the fireplace before you. Your eyes don’t deceive you–it looks like there’s a secret doorway. But where could it lead? You know there’s a bathroom on the other side of this wall but if you wander into the bathroom, you find no hint of a hidden doorway on the other side.
No matter how hard you try, you can’t pry it open. Maybe it’s stuck, or maybe something is barring you from opening it. Either way, every entrance must have an exit somewhere.
Re: INVESTIGATION
Away! Away from the body. Eyes sharp, men. A killer always leaves a trail.
[He paces the room grimly, then notices the right nightstand remains untouched. He kneels down heavily to inspect it for any clues.]
no subject
The right nightstand has a candelabra on top of it, and a single drawer with an ornate iron handle. Upon initially searching the drawer, you don’t find anything. But as you feel along the seams of the wood, you realize that it has a false bottom. As you open it up, you see what looks to be a folder full of newspaper clippings. Jackpot! The clippings seem to be focused on a variety of random people, but as you study them, you realize that all of these articles are about Lionheart’s current or previous employees. Many of these clippings cite these individuals being arrested (or tried) for some sort of civil wrongdoing–larceny, blackmail, money laundering, so on and so forth.
Only one of the articles in this collection mentions murder. Oddly, this one does not mention anybody by name, with the author having redacted them to protect the family involved. The article is several decades old, and reports on an unnamed child who was institutionalized for murdering his older sister.
no subject
Bloody hell.
[The words are spoken in a hushed tone. Perhaps unusually, Constantine doesn't look upset at this. No--in fact, he looks almost excited. His eyes roam the room as he carefully strolls across the carpet, like a vulture picking its way across a feast. He decides to take a look at the trash bin, where Damien is, and the body.]
no subject
[He's not about to say it out loud, but his father's got too many secrets for the cops to come snooping around the house without trouble. He'd really rather not have to deal with that on top of everything else.]
no subject
Ah, the trash bin. A mystery solver’s natural habitat. You root through the garbage in an attempt to discover any pertinent evidence. Most of the trash seems to be filled with used tissues or random scraps of paper, but at the bottom of the bin, you find a newspaper–The Daily Rag. Looks like it’s this week’s issue, and the front page story is Lionheart’s own 75th birthday party. It makes mention of the fact that Damien Lionheart returned to town last week.
One of the gossip columns posits that Mr. Lionheart is in a secret romantic relationship with handsome math professor Professor Moriarty. Another one suggests that Damien Lionheart came back early to visit one of his numerous paramours. The personal ads page features a half-page advertisement for Jimmy McGill’s law firm. It’s rather poorly designed, but it puts Jimmy’s face front and center.
The back of the newspaper is an article about the aftermath of Uncle Deadly’s trial and how the Lionhearts were affected by the accompanying storm. There are a few “exclusive interviews'' with fellow directors and producers associated with Deadly, though nothing is particularly interesting. It notes that this week was the fifth year anniversary of Kit D. Buckett’s death.
BODY
You approach Mr. Lionheart’s body, and you brace yourself to deal with this gristly business. The body dangles awkwardly out of the bed, threatening to slide onto the carpet below. His head is pointed towards the floor as he slumps forward. It almost looks as if he was in the middle of falling out of bed. On the right side of his forehead is an open wound, blood still dripping onto the carpet. The skin appears to have split, with significant bruising around the wound itself. You’re no medical expert, but this looks as if someone hit him hard.
A small amount of spit and foam can be seen dripping from the corner of his mouth, his pupils are dilated, and his face seems pale and sweaty. Both of his hands are clenched into tight fists. Alas, prying open his fingers reveals that he is holding nothing in either hand. Who could possibly commit such a ghastly deed?
[ shitty drawn diagram of body pose ]