first trial

[notreadyatall]

[Once you make your way to the portrait gallery, Facilier's snarky voice chimes in as per usual.]

One of you folks actually went and did it. Not surprised: they always do. Besides, if you were gonna kill someone, the grandma ain't a bad start. Figure it this way: how many of you actually liked her?

[Suddenly, the whole room seems to move downwards. The walls get longer, and the ceiling grows further away from you. The portraits themselves seem to extend, as the room moves downwards at a startling pace.]

Things are not always as they seem, gentlemen. Can it be this room is actually stretching? And notice this: this chamber has no windows and no doors, which offers you this chilling challenge… to find a way out. Of course, there’s always our way.

[Suddenly, the floor stops. A new door opens at the side of the room.

Inside is what appears to be an old voodoo shop, covered in various artifacts and an unsettling large voodoo head at the back of the room. There is a summoning circle painted into the floor with a deep red paint. Each of you has a place within this circle, with a wooden podium marked with your room number waiting for you there. Podium 26 has a single candle lit aflame, as well as what appears to be a voodoo doll of Madame Mim stuck to the top of it.

Light music plays in the background.

Once you all take your place, Facilier himself appears within the middle of the circle, out of a cloud of smoke.]

You're here to figure out who did this. Once you have a hunch, you can feel free to write it down on the podium in front of you, but there are no takebacks. Majority rules, and your participation is mandatory.

'Course, you have all the time you need, if you want it.

Comments

[sharpasanarrow]

[Well, Mr.Arrow doesn't like this one bit. Begrudgingly, he makes his way to his assigned spot, feeling a chill run through his foam body at the sight of the layout.]

This is all very elaborate for a prank. I must applaud that much.

[hasit]

[The place they find themselves isn't unlike some of the places Leia has seen in her life: junk shops. Places for scrappers to come and sell their wares. This one is just a little...creepier.

She finds the podium with her room number on it and goes over to stand at it, clearing her throat. She might not be the leader here, but she's still a leader, and they have their work cut out for them.]

Regardless of who Madam Mim was, or what she might have done in the past two weeks, we find ourselves with the responsibility of solving her death. Let any of us who have evidence step forward, and if anyone has a confession they'd like to make, I urge you to do so.

[notasingleword]

[Ariel's knees are shaking after what just happened. She wants to stand with Mabel or Freddie, but she also fears what will happen if she moves. Unfortunately the only thing she has to offer was finding the body but... everyone is aware of that now.]

[psychopinesis]

[Maaan this place is creepy. The stretching room is creepy, but the voodoo lounge is worse, and Neku's especially eying that head at the back.]

So what happens when we figure out who it is?

[not_over_yet]

[ Basil's looked somewhat frazzled since he finally stumbled out of his room--at the demand to gather in the portrait room--but at least he seems to have woken up on the ride down.

After clambering up his podium: ] By the by, what happens to the others if someone does succeed in "getting away with it"? I've meant to ask for a while, but you're with us so rarely.

[holdthetrumpet]

[Hey so guess who's been having a really bad week. Being a monster sucked, but that's nothing next to this. See, Kit's from a fairytale. He's from goddamn Cinderella 3 A Twist In Time. He learned how to fence and all but the most serious duel he's ever been in is a playful bout against his own father. He's never been in a battle or gone to war or even really been up-close with death at all in his life, except for the sort of nebulously far-off concept of his mother's passing. So this is... this is not great? And he feels as though as a Prince he should probably be doing more and being a, a pillar of something or other, but he's come to realize in the past two weeks that he's woefully behind everyone else when it comes to knowing anything about anything.

So he just sort of takes his spot at his podium, looking like a kicked puppydog.]

I really hadn't thought anyone would do it.

[lostbutnotaboy]

[Jane was already petty shaken by the dead body, but she's never seen anything like this. And hey she was already trying to stick close to Kim, and seeing as Freddie's over by her girl taking her podium's probably fine.

Probably.]

We... we actually have to do this ourselves?

[athleticallyinclined]

Come on, we all know who the real killer here is!

[ SURPRISE SURPRISE Gaston is jabbing an accusing finger at the Beast. ]

Just look at him! He probably tore her to shreds without thinking twice!

CATHERD

[hasit]

[She's quickly getting fed up with all these baseless accusations. They're getting majorly sidetracked. Leia clears her throat loudly.]

Enough of this. We're not getting anywhere bickering with this—nerfherder. [Gesturing scornfully at Gaston.] We need to go over the evidence again and re-examine the facts. Madame Mim was bludgeoned to death, and her head was caved in. It seems as if the likely weapons are that case from the dining room, or perhaps the wax arm found near her body.

The wreckage extended throughout several rooms, with accompanying trails of blood. There was also a handprint found on the wax arm near Mim's body, though we haven't ruled out that it belonged to her in her...male form.

Anything else we should note?

here kitty kitty

[not_over_yet]

Mr. Pines brought up a valid point--head wounds bleed tremendously. How much bleeding occurred? It's possible she was beaten to death somewhere other than the wax museum, but unless there was significant bleeding at some other location, it's more likely that her head wound was post-mortem.

VOTING

[notreadyatall]

Well, I think you've all had time to deliberate on this little course of events.

[With a snap, a large piece of parchment appears on each podium. With it, a small needle, proportioned to the person the podium is assigned to.]

Write down the name of who you believe committed the murder. Majority rules, and voting is mandatory.

EXECUTION: You're Only Second-Rate

[notreadyatall]

[Facilier snaps his fingers, and the stage goes dim. When it lights up again, he is gone, replaced by Woody. The cowboy doll lays alone on a pedestal, limp and lifeless. He gets up and immediately starts to panic as props start to appear in the background behind him, made of wood. A hand-painted wooden fence, a wooden grill, and a wooden black-and-white dog. This scene is a familiar one to him, and it causes him to panic.

But then, a figure walks across the stage. It's easy to mistake it for human at first. But in all reality, it's some sort of marionette hanging from the ceiling, dressed up as a child. The strings extend into the darkness, almost as if being puppeteered by the shadows themselves. Woody tries to get up, to move, to do something - but he's kept down on the ground by an unknown force. The Sid marionette gleefully makes it's way across the stage, in an inhuman fashion, plunking something down next to Woody.

It's a colorful toy rocket. "THE BIG ONE. EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN."

Woody is duct-taped to the rocket, almost ceremoniously, and a match is lit. The match is positioned to the rocket's fuse, and it ignites. A countdown begins, echoing all around the room. Woody pops to life for a few seconds, attempting to remove his restraints, apparently given the sensation of life now that he's been adequately restrained. If toys could sweat, Woody would drenched.

The fuse steadily grows shorter. Three, two, one. Woody can only manage one word as the rocket is about to go off:]

"ANDY!"

[The rocket flies off into the rafters, before sounding off with a spectacular explosion. The initial explosion might be obscured from the audience, perhaps giving them a small sense of relief. But it's hardly any comfort when chunks of plastic, some melted and some charred black, begin to rain down on to the stage moments later. There's hardly any style to the way they fall, hitting the stage with horrible volume.

Facilier walks on stage, picking up a somehow stll-intact cowboy hat, and placing it on his finger. Turning to the audience, cheekbone exposed, he smirks.

He begins to speak:]