The Excelsior

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CMustardwPipeinLibrary
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Post by CMustardwPipeinLibrary » Tue Sep 14, 2010 7:06 pm

(My apologies. Long story short, I've been busy lately.)

Melody Gergen was resting in her room. Apparently some guy had revealed that somebody had been murdered years ago at the very place where Melody was working now. She didn't really know the details - she wasn't present when it all happened - but it shocked her that something of that magnitude could have been concealed... no, hidden... no, what was the word that wouldn't necessarily imply action on somebody's part... out-of-sight for so long. Oh, and there was the fact that apparently the murderer was present.

As Melody sat on the bed, she sighed. Looking at the string of pearls she was clutching in her hand, she knew she had enough problems of her own. As she ran the pearls through her hands, her thoughts drifted to her sister, Nora. A bright girl - much smarter than she was. She had always been her parents' favorite. Melody may had gotten the looks (though not by much, she was willing to admit), but Nora had the brains. She was always the one who had the advantage in the Gergen family. True, Melody was grateful for what she got, but she certainly wasn't paid into a university in London.

Granted, it all had fallen apart for Nora when her family discovered who she had fallen in love with and did not approve, disowning her. Melody had tried to help Nora through it as best she could, even though she wasn't even out of high school yet, and had to get around her parents. It got even worse when her sister's lover committed suicide, almost driving Nora to it as well. Melody had managed to get her to counseling, but she never fully recovered. Nora did manage to find somebody else - a young lawyer named Tracy- but Melody still kept tabs on her so she didn't become too dependent.

...How had her thoughts drifted that far? Maybe there was some sort of mental connection? Probably because of the death, and the suicide of... oh, what was the name again...

...Wait...

Of course! It all clicked into place! She remembered what had happened! Now she knew where she recognized that face! But if that person was here, then... then... were they responsible for that death that took place here? She couldn't know for sure - she didn't have enough information - but if that was the case, she had to do something.

Stuffing the pearls into a nearby purse, she left her room.

(Will post the other two later.)
"Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?"
"You don't need any help from me, sir."
"That's right!"

Are you gullible? Click here to find out!

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Lord Caspen
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Thanks!

Post by Lord Caspen » Tue Sep 14, 2010 7:55 pm

[OOC: It's fantastic to have you back, CMustard!]

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Lord Caspen
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One More Thing

Post by Lord Caspen » Tue Sep 14, 2010 10:42 pm

[OOC: I seem to have inadvertently given everyone the impression that Helen died at the Excelsior. She did not. Eight years ago she was found hanging in her rooms at home. The Pryces have a Compound on Pratt Island, off the coast of Connecticut.]

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Post by CluedoKid » Mon Sep 20, 2010 10:54 am

Midnight approaches, but not everyone is in bed...

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(Cue Turnbull and Ursula)
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CMustardwPipeinLibrary
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Post by CMustardwPipeinLibrary » Tue Sep 21, 2010 9:29 am

(OK, let's try to keep to your commitment here, CMustard...)

Turnbull couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned under the sheets of his bed, overcome by the memory of what had been said. Mr. Pryce's wife... had been murdered... and the murderer may very well be among them. But it was more than that. Turnbull hadn't been told about this, and Turnbull was usually the first one his employer would tell of any of his secrets.

Turnbull sighed. His mind had been through these thoughts before. Quite a few times, actually. Thinking back, he had to admit to himself that Mr. Pryce had been acting unusual for the past year or two - even for himself. True, he had informed Turnbull of secrets even during that time, but still, there was something... different. Something had changed about the way Mr. Pryce had interacted with him. Turnbull didn't want to admit it until now, but he couldn't deny it any longer - something had changed.

Was it simply that his employer suspected him of killing his wife? Or was it something else? Had he noticed the occasional glance, the smile that was supposed to be a secret shared by two? No, no, it couldn't be. If he had, surely, he would have confronted him by now. Unless... unless he wanted to be sure before acting - much like Turnbull was about the situation with Mr. Pryce and...

Stop it, Turnbull! You're just being paranoid! he thought to himself. Still, it was better safe than sorry - and he definitely didn't feel comfortable with the current situation. He got up out of bed, put on a simple suit, and went out in search of his employer. Hopefully, they would be able to reconcile - if not, Turnbull wasn't sure what he would do.

~~~~~~~

Ursula Stone may have had a cold demeanor, but she was no machine. She knew she needed rest. And yet... somehow, she felt like too much was going on to sleep. What with the news that somebody had been murdered... some of the people thought it had happened at that building, but some were quite clear that it wasn't here. She didn't know what to think about it.

No, Ursula, that's not why you're here. You're here for one reason and one reason only. she thought to herself. Maybe after settling the matter she came here to settle, she could look into the murder and see what she could learn, but for now, she would have to set it aside.

With that out of the way, her thoughts turned to what she had learned today. Her day had taken her throughout the building, and her efforts had been fruitless. The only places left to look were the guests' rooms and the staff's rooms. She knew she couldn't just barge into one of those rooms without permission, and yet she knew she didn't have much choice. Between the two, she suspected the staff's rooms simply because it wouldn't do to have a guest discover what had been hidden... unless one of these guests was in on it, but that was pure speculation.

Regardless, it would have to wait until the morning. Ursula resolved to try to go to sleep, and if she couldn't, or if she woke up later in the night, she would get back to the task at hand. At least that way, she wouldn't be completely exhausted.
"Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?"
"You don't need any help from me, sir."
"That's right!"

Are you gullible? Click here to find out!

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Lord Caspen
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Heh

Post by Lord Caspen » Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:20 am

My apologies, everyone. I want to keep this going, but my life has kicked into a higher gear lately. In case you'd like to know, I'm back to work, 40 hours a week, and I'm in a show, Wait Until Dark that rehearses almost every night.

I will try to wrap up the first day tomorrow, and if you're all still interested, I want to turn up the tempo a little bit with some special assignments for your characters :)
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. -- Blithe Spirit, Noel Coward.

CMustardwPipeinLibrary
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Post by CMustardwPipeinLibrary » Thu Sep 30, 2010 11:54 am

(Sounds good.)
"Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?"
"You don't need any help from me, sir."
"That's right!"

Are you gullible? Click here to find out!

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Adam106
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Post by Adam106 » Thu Sep 30, 2010 12:44 pm

(I think it sounds good too. Break a leg with the play.:))

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CluedoKid
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Post by CluedoKid » Sun Oct 03, 2010 3:32 pm

Well I'm getting impatient, so I think it's time to reveal...


...that yes, Vienna Pryce has met a fatal end (the end of a sharpened saber tip that is) that very night!

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We now await what is to come for next morning...(will there be a next morning?)
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Lord Caspen
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DAY ONE -- End of the Day

Post by Lord Caspen » Fri Oct 08, 2010 1:17 am

[Yes, there will be a next morning, if I have anything to say about it ...]

In her room, Vienna Pryce couldn't sleep. A procession of five ... or was it six? ... room-service martinis had done nothing to help. Work on her "Fugue for Four Cellos and Two Viols" -- a project begun over a year ago -- could not sufficiently distract her and in the end she threw her pen across the room, where it lodged tip-first in the wall. She snorted, and finished off her (possibly ninth?) martini.

Her damn[/i] father. She should have known he would somehow trap them, herself included. And to use their mother ...

Not that Mother had ever been effusive with her only daughter. She had been a good match for Stan, in many ways. They were both steely, selfish, and devoted only to their own pet projects. Stan made money and bedded everyone with a vagina. Helen had her orchids and her husband -- she killed all the flowers and Stan was anything but loving in return, but that had only pushed their Mother harder to "make it work." And ... of course they had both been simply potty over their precious son. Sons.

Vienna rolled her glance around to the nightstand clock, but the numbers were somehow indistinct.

Even though she couldn't read the clock, she had a sense for time -- it was clearly time to go. Go where? she asked herself. Did it matter? She was here, she was trapped, because of Daddy. Well, she was no one's plaything. Vienna Pryce ... Vienna Pryce made her own damn way.

The room tilted slightly when she rose, but then she was out in the hall, the foyer. Stairs? Probably not. Elevator.

Her steps echoed on the ground floor. Corridors of soaring ceilings, lost to blackness. The smell of rose water and licorice softly permeating everything. Somehow, she'd got turned around. She wasn't going the right way. The doors ... they were the other way, weren't they?

As she turned to go, however, the shadows moved -- blackness seemed to peel itself from the very wall and lunged at her and immediately a Civil War sabre plunged into and through her throat. Another thrust, and it pinned the gagging woman to the wall behind her. While her limbs fought to keep going, as if to rip the sword out but never quite reaching it, flailing, her eyes rolling and every sinew strained and forced, yet in a matter of seconds the life drained out of her thick and red and all over, and then her eyes fell shut and her head hung limp.

The shadow stayed rooted to the spot. The head turned to a window.

Ah, yes, the thoughts ran. Snow.



END OF DAY ONE

Image





[Objectives and the start of Day Two shortly to follow. I hope you'll all stay with me, as we forge ahead!][/img]
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. -- Blithe Spirit, Noel Coward.

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PeachFreak
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Post by PeachFreak » Fri Oct 15, 2010 10:51 pm

A true college student in most regards, Nan had long ago trained her brain to function with as little sleep as possible. Her other organs too had been trained-mainly to thrive on a diet of nacho chips and cigarettes. Nevertheless, the combination of sleep deprivation, calories, and nicotine usually gave Nan her best ideas…so she figured, and that night had been passed with an abundance of all three.

After watching a spider scamper back and forth across her ceiling for a half hour, Nan decided she would try to sleep. However, the blankets were too hot. Then, the mattress was too hard. Then, the pillows were too soft. After much tossing, much turning, and much cursing, Nan finally gave up; the one night where she would have killed to black out and forget everyone for just a few hours had brought her worst bout of insomnia yet.

Deciding that she should try to get some work done (after all, she had nothing better to do…and she didn’t particularly want to fail…and maybe it would take her mind off…well, it need not be said) she pulled herself out the bed and dug out her script from her backpack. When she sat down to read it, the beginning irked her. The middle was frustrating. And by the end, she loathed the entire thing. It wasn’t her vision…it was trash, pure trash. She had so desperately rewrote it to fit in the damned Excelsior, forcing the hotel in where it refused to go. And now the words mocked her with their idiocy; had she really been content with them only a few days earlier?

So, now, Nan decided she had no project. Why even bother finishing it? She’d fail anyway if she handed in that garbage and lose her professor’s respect and…it would be too horrible for words. Her dreams, her style, her entire reason for filmmaking-to show life how it is-would be utterly and completely destroyed. Though, that may have been her fried brain resorting to melodrama.

When the phone rang some time later, Nan awoke groggily, finding herself asleep at the desk, cigarette butts scattered around her like burnt offerings. The room was dark, lit only by a dim floor lamp; she’d pulled the heavy draperies closed long ago.

“What time is it?� the girl clutched her head, as if trying to shake the ringing phone away. However, it remained persistent. Wandering over to where she vaguely remembered the damned thing to be, she lifted it up to her ear.

“What?� Nan asked dryly.

“Good morning, valued guest. All of us here at the Excelsior sincerely hope you have enjoyed your stay. As your safety is our number one priority, the Excelsior must be evacuated due to an impending snowstorm. We apologize for any inconvenience. Guests should pack their bags and prepare to be shuttled to the main gates. Guests in the North Wing should meet in the main dining room…� the recorded message droned on in such a way until Nan hung up the phone.

In truth, she felt somewhat relieved to be leaving. To be going back to the real world. But, what do to first? Shower? Probably. However, as she moved for the bathroom, someone knocked on the door.

“What do you want?� the girl moaned.

“Nan, hon, did you get the message? We have to evacuate. God, the whole thing’s like…it’s like an…� her mother called through the door, sounding oddly upbeat. “Open up!�

“I heard, ma! Go pack. I’ll meet you in the dining room!�

“But I want to come in!�

“Leave me alone, ma…I’m naked!� Nan snapped back, walking into the bathroom and slamming the door.

_____________________


In the hallway, Cheryl, in her night clothes, sighed. The corridor was silent, and her yelling had probably awoken more people than the phones ringing variably in every room. Frowning, she walked back to her own room, mulling over things in her mind. She did want to leave…to go home and forget the whole weekend. But home…yes, home, would it still be there?

Slamming her door, the woman slumped onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. What had happened? How did it all come to this? She knew some of it was her own fault, and it killed her. Gone was the makeup, and the smiles, and the charisma…the scared little girl, baby Cheryl Pryce was back again.

_____________________

Vaughn stared into the mirror, buttoning the last button on his shirt. He’d been up for some time, always the early riser. He’d gotten the evacuation message a while ago, around 6:30. He grimaced; there was still stuff to accomplish. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to leave yet. When he thought about it, stupid Stan’s shocking announcement really wasn’t that shocking, nor did it bother him terribly.

“Hello, madame. Isn’t it a lovely day to be evacuating, and my, aren’t you lovely? Perhaps I may offer you a preposition…proposition. I know some things about that special friend of yours, and I think you and I…� he rehearsed, eying himself as he slipped his glasses onto his eyes. Handsome, he decided, except for that extra chin. Maybe when he got back to L.A. he’d actually get to the gym.

(Cue others)
"Like my daddy always says, give me a good neuromuscular poison any day."

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Lord Caspen
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DAY TWO -- Evacuation

Post by Lord Caspen » Sat Oct 16, 2010 12:18 am

Stanford Pryce snatched the receiver up, to be rewarded with the operator's voice. "We've reached your valet, sir."

He screamed, "Turnbull! Where the blazes are you? We have to leave the hotel, and my things still aren't packed! Get here. Now!"

And then he slammed the phone back.

Of all the things to get in his way. Late last night there'd been a few flurries, but a blizzard! He paced the room. He spied a jade-colored Buddha on the desk and hurled it through a plate of glass in the balcony door. He was shaking.

Everything had been so carefully ... planned. And now, they were all about to slip through his fingers! Well, Stanford Pryce wasn't beaten, yet. He caught his breath. He glanced in a mirror and saw his crimson color drain to a salmon pink.

He thought about it, then nodded to himself. A new plan. Yes.

And then he flew out of the room, the door banging on his exit.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

In the room next door, Bethany Pryce emerged from the bath drying her hair with a towel, to her husband sitting on the edge of the bed. "Nice to know your dad's in a good humor."

Lev rubbed at an eye with the palm of his hand. "Please let up, Beth. Please." He took a breath. "My head ..."

Beth knew he hadn't slept, not much. He'd come back to the room well after midnight. He'd stood swaying in the doorway for a long time. She'd watched him from an angle, but he wasn't looking at her. His gaze was fixed on a point somewhere outside the balcony window. She'd turned over to the other side, the eventually heard him undress and felt him practically fall into bed. Now, less than six hours later, he was clearly nursing a hangover. Well. Bully for him.

"I'm just saying, it's better we get out of here, anyway." She turned and went back to the bathroom. "We don't do so well here," she called.

"Let's just get to the dining room."

Leverage was growling. Way to get off on the right foot, Beth she thought.
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. -- Blithe Spirit, Noel Coward.

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Lord Caspen
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Ah, I see ...

Post by Lord Caspen » Sat Oct 23, 2010 6:01 pm

I may have waited too long to get this back underway. Seems to have died out utterly, more's the pity.
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. -- Blithe Spirit, Noel Coward.

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Adam106
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Post by Adam106 » Sat Oct 23, 2010 6:40 pm

(Sorry.)

A loud, unbearable ringing buzzed mercilessly in Patricia's ears. She lifted her face from the pillows, blond curls dangling infront of her face. She had a headache from all the drinking last night. After Claudio had left, she had found it unthinkable to stop drinking wine until she could drink no more and had ultimately fell asleep on the bed, empty wine glass in hand.

The ringing continued and so she was forced to heave herself up from the comfy confounds of her bed. She placed the wine glass on the nearby side, outstretched an unethusiastic arm and grabbed the reciever.

"Hello?" she said, combing curls away from her face. "What?" Her eyes opened. "Now?' She scoffed, sighed. "Alright, alright. Yes. Bye." She slammed the pearly white phone down and clawed at her messy hair. She caught a reflection of herself in the mirror on the opposing wall. Her silky light pink night dress had been dotted with plum blotches. She scoffed again.

Massaging her aching forehead with slow rubs, she slumped off the bed, noticing the broken glass on the floor. The wine glass she had thrown just last night. When Claudio left -- wait! Where was Claudio? He hadn't returned?

"Claudio?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thin finger prodding Colonel Northover's arm seemed sweaty. He twirled himself awake, eyes glaring at the other set before him. "Hm?" His breath was heavy, billowing out of his nostrils and mouth. First thing in the morning. A handsome young man was the cause of his awakening and he blinked repeatedly to adjust himself the to early sunlight beaming through the window.

The man...he seemed familiar.

"Are you awake, Colonel?" French.

Ah, yes. He knew who it was now! That skinny Frenchman. Some sort of beau to the pretty Patricia Boulanger.

"What are you doing?" he managed to splutter out.

"I had to wake you, Colonel. A member of staff has awoken me but five minutes ago."

"Hm?" he snorted. "Why?"

"Apparantly, we are being evacuted - removed! We have been asked to meet in the main dining hall with all of our belongings as soon as possible. I was just on my way there when I noticed you asleep and thought it best but to wake you incase nobody else did."

Northover scrathced his beard, rubbed his tired eyes. "Hm. Yes, well...that's kind of you, I suppose."

Claudio noted the dislodged Alice book. "You did not get much reading done, I assume?"

"Doesn't matter. Read it tons of times before, you see." He snatched the hardback book and whacked it onto the table to his immediate left.

"Wait a minute!" a thought suddenly crossed his mind. "Why did one of the staff wake you? Weren't you in your room?"

"Eh...non. I was not. I had gone out for a...walk and I had settled myself in a nook similar to this one. It's the seats, eh? Too comfy. Fall right asleep in them." He flashed a smile, dimples showing.

"Yes. In that event, I best go and collect my things" Grabbing the arms of the chair for support, the Colonel rose and the two of them proceeded down the hall.

[Cue others]

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Post by CluedoKid » Sat Oct 23, 2010 6:51 pm

[OCC: Yes, let's get this going again]

Diane's hands sifted through the contents of her black hygienist bag. Just a few things inside. Her make-up kit of course, sunglasses, Kleenex, a bottle of antiseptic and some paracetamols for her migraines. Oh and some complimentary toothbrushes and floss for her patients. Pity about her cellphone. A damn inconvenience too thanks to Mark and the car.

She got out of her chair, and tapped her fingers along the glass windowpane, watching the flurry of flakes swirl in the howling wind.

Snow, she thought, I hate snow so much.

----------------------------------------

Mark Triplett was waiting in front of room 402.

Two glasses of champagne in his chilly palms.

Then, the door creaked open.....Vienna?

Nope. Carlos Ballo.

Crap! Wrong room.

"Buenos dias," Carlos answered, in his soft Latino accent; his oiled body barely covered in a Tropical print housecoat.

"Oh!" Mark grunted, "I'm sorry Mr. Bello, I thought this was Vienna's room."

"Mister Triplett," Carlos beckoned, "It's such a coincidence, I was hoping to speak with you."

"Rather early, isn't it?"

"Yes, if you say so. We can talk later."

"How about breakfast?"

Carlos made a face.

"No thanks. I won't have time to be down at breakfast. Maybe after."

Mark found this strange, yet agreeable. And so he continued down the corridor, continuing his pursuit for Vienna.

Of course, perhaps he knew we she was all along...

[Cue Excelsior]
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Post by CluedoKid » Fri Oct 29, 2010 7:36 am

{OOC: Are we continuing this? I would like to continue playing very much, but all these long intervals makes it hard.)
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Adam106
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Post by Adam106 » Fri Oct 29, 2010 7:50 am

[OOC: Me too. I'm just waiting for other's to post more stuff before I can.]

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Lord Caspen
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Continue

Post by Lord Caspen » Fri Oct 29, 2010 11:32 am

[I'd like to go on myself. I've been waiting for the others to come back. I suppose realistically the rest of us should continue without them, but I'd rather not leave them to fall behind -- especially since our new objectives require their characters' presence. I'll see what I can do.]

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Post by CluedoKid » Sat Mar 19, 2011 3:59 am

Who would like to continue this?
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Post by PeachFreak » Sat Mar 19, 2011 1:03 pm

I certainly would.
"Like my daddy always says, give me a good neuromuscular poison any day."

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