Forum Thread

As the world mourns the passing of two high profile celebrities, you have more pressing matters to handle. As a part of the team tasked with examining the winter cottage that Zagan and MengYa called home, you must uncover the secrets behind the incident. Was it truly a double suicide or is there something more nefarious hiding behind the scenes? Remember, each character can have their own goals but your objective is to reach a unanimous conclusion as to what happened in the cottage, regardless if its the truth or not. You must convince everyone that what happened is the truth.

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Task Force Members:

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Imbris Cataegia | She/Her | Vampire | PieSmellsGood
Osiris Darshan | He/Him | Vampire/Mothic | Spiderrs
Lee So-Mi | She/Her | Zannie | andrea~
Dominic Vasseau | He/Him | Domovi | Immortes
August Hazell | Any | Desert Yokai| Miso-Soup

General Info

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Locations
Rosemary Hill - The Villa in where the investigation is taking place

Staff
Balam Baramos - Head Butler, Wolven
Lăcrămioara - Head Butler, Vampire

Will be updated as the team learns more, but any details will be up to players to remember~

Welcome, to Rosemary Hill, the shared winter cottage of the late Ye MengYa and Zagan Yali. While in name, it is listed as a cottage, the building itself is more akin to a villa. One of the first purchases that Zagan made with his rising fame, the four walls of the villa have seen the two influential figures from the start to the end, a stalwart guardian who loved so deeply that its masters felt comfortable enough passing within it. With a rooftop that barely grazes the towering trees around you, the two story manor was once the winter home for the world famous duo, and the sight of their death. It seems almost much too peaceful, the pure white snow that had fallen the night, though clumped into uneven bunches, was untouched all the same but the eerie quietness of it all puts you on edge. Death has a smell, and the whole mountain reeks of it.

You, along with the rest of the group, have been called in to search the premises. While an initial investigation has been conducted, it is up to you to look for the details. Everything have been left exactly as they have been found with an exception to the bodies which have been moved into the underground freezer for preservation and eventual burial rites. The staff would be there to assist, though most of them would be waiting until the preliminary investigation was complete to answer any questions. You have been forewarned as well, that Zagan was quite fond of traps and hidden passageways which was liberally implemented into Rosemary Hill, a residence which acted more of a personal home than a status symbol for throwing around one's wealth when welcoming guests. Thank goodness that the staff at least knew their way around the villa.

It has been quite the trek coming up, with Rosemary Hill being situated in the mountainous ranges. Despite the clean path carved out in the snow winding up the easy trail, the journey itself required quite the work out to even arrive on the front steps. You had arrived at the base of the property long before sunrise but now, beyond the frosted peaks of the mountain range, the snow glitters warmly. Perhaps it was the trick of the refracted light off the snow, but you could have sworn that a shadow moved over the second floor window, there one second and gone as in the next blink. However, before you can investigate, getting into the villa itself comes first.

Before the grand doors of the cottage, stands two butlers, dressed in traditional mourning robes. One appears to be quite old, the bags under her silver eyes heavy and inflamed, the red rim to them a sign of her mourning. Perhaps its the deep winter shadows, but she doesn't appear to be very tall or robust, her figure almost swallowed up by the butler uniform she wears, a simple outfit whose only distinguishing point appears to be the golden trim and serpentine design on the underside of her tailcoat, a shade lighter than the black fabric. Fur of the same shade as her eyes have been elaborately twisted back into mourning braids, beads held in place with skilled lattice work as even her ears hang heavy with mourning beads. The red decorative muzzle and elaborate beaded veil that covers the butler's face indicative of the significance of the one who has been lost, crystalline tears the colour of blood sparkling under the winter sun, barely making an indent in her fur as it drapes over her muzzle. Her glassy eyes barely twitch as she stares at the horizon despondently.

The other, in comparison, was almost scarily young. He couldn't be any older than 20, and perhaps he seemed even younger with grief hanging heavy on his shoulders. An ivory mask of bone prevented anything from being seen, only a painted on smile barely containing a mouthful of fangs greeting the incoming visitors, bell like flowers hang from the bone bundled into a chorus of buds. Heavy furs wrapped around him, a unique mourning robe worn by only a few vampiric families up in the north, almost covering up the tailcoat underneath, hints of off white flowers crawling up the fabric peeking through the brown pelts. His own hair had black ribbons braided into the rusted strands, a cascade of extensions blending in with the dark greys of the fur, adding even more weight to the already voluminous coat. Heavy manacles clasped around his wrists clank in acknowledgement as the two turned towards the sound of crunching snow, pinning their guests with empty stares. As you reach the final steps to stand at the door of the cottage, both butlers square their shoulders and bow deeply at the waist.

"Esteemed guests, thank you for taking the time to arrive at our humble estate at such an hour." They intone, voices droning in unison. "We are the Head Butlers of Rosemary Hill, Balam Baramos and Lăcrămioara. We will accompany you during your investigation to answer any inquires you may have about the late Masters. Please, come inside and change your shoes as you do."

Turning around as one, they bow again as the grand doors to the villa open outwards without a single creak, the rush of heated air from inside the house billowing over you to warm your shivering form. Welcome to Rosemary Hill, dear investigator.

[Dear investigators, please step into Rosemary Hill. Be sure to change into the provided house slippers before entering the welcome hall]

Osiris ducked his head in the villa, he panned his eye across the room. He studied any furniture and decor for a few seconds each. "Quiet a quaint cottage you have here." Osiris spoke rather quietly for a man of his stature, he stepped in the villa, spotting the slippers, he proceeded to crouch down and grab the pair that would fit him. he pulled off his loafers one by one then slide on the slippers. his eyes darted up towards the butlers, he cleared his throat so that his voice could be easily heard. "where do you want these.?" he held up his scuffed chestnut loafers.

"Thanking Mr.Darshan for his kind words." Lăcrămioara demurred, bowing shallowly. "Please leave your shoes wherever you please, they will be properly put away in the respective rack by us."

As expected of athe residence of two of some of the most high profile people, Rosemary Hill's Welcome Hall is lavish and beautiful, the glossed wooden flooring practically reflecting the opulence. However, taking a closer look, the hall looks quite normal, if a little sparsely decorated. The candelabra lined walls follow the same wooden grain as the floor, organically ingraining the natural atmosphere that comes with stepping foot into a mountainside residence. The gentle flames flickering through the hall warms the heart, illuminating the various paintings hung up on the walls.

There aren't any that are recognizable from first glace, in fact some seem to be quite crude and unpolished, but one does catch the eye of anyone well versed in Werewolf made art. Hanging innocuously between two others is an original Forsoothe piece. It's one of her earlier works, the barest hints of what would become her signature art style just beginning to emerge from the hesitant strokes. As one of the only Wolven artist who have managed to break into the Werewolf art space, Foorsothe made a name for herself as a respected artist, though the painting simply sits among the rest as a equal easily missed if one wasn't looking closely.

At the centre of the wide open space drew the eyes directly towards a grand staircase, the spiralling wooden structure leading towards the second floor. However, Balam leads the group instead towards one of the doors on either side of the staircase, opening the left mahogany door to gesture in. It seems the welcome hall is not where you will be convening

Imbris neared the end of her arduous trek towards the villa, the hoofbeats of her horse quickening as the ground grew more level. She didn’t mind the cold in the slightest; on the contrary, she relished the challenge the mountain range provided. Imbris had not felt this alive in at least a decade and the investigation itself was promising to be one of the more intriguing ones she had taken part in. Her heart began to race as she neared the villa, her eyes instinctively scanning the woods that surrounded it. The villa itself also caught her eye, the light reflecting from the snow dancing along the walls and windows. Imbris also knew that Rosemary Hill had quite a few traps and passageways courtesy of Head Strategist Zagan. This truly was the adventure she needed after being among the Manor society for so long. Once she got near enough to the villa, Imbris dismounted her horse and leashed it to a nearby tree. The horse remained motionless once Imbris dismounted for it was a steed of the Manor, which needs no sustenance and is unaffected by the elements. Imbris checked through the bags strapped to the horse and brought with her what she needed. An ornate walking stick, a pen and notebook, a flask that held a deep crimson liquid that glistened like amber, and a mysterious silvery medallion tinted a slight teal. She stashed these away in her frock coat aside from the walking stick which she carried in her hands and approached the doors of the villa. Near these doors were two butlers, one robed and the other masked. Imbris could tell both were in deep mourning. She returned their bow and responded, “The pleasure is mine, honorable Head Butlers.” She then made her way into the entrance hall of the villa, making sure to swap her boots for the house slippers before doing so. She marveled at the fireplace and mantel, with its imported stone and intricate carvings. Imbris was mesmerized by the way the fire caused shadows to dart around the room. “I must say, the masonry of this place is unrivaled. My compliments to the artisans,” Imbris said admiringly. Imbris then noticed another person in the hall. He was tall and dressed in a suit and tie. She guessed that he was one of the other investigators and so, struck up conversation. “Greetings, I presume you are here for the investigation?”

Osiris Placed his shoes where he found the same slippers on his feet. he turned to face Imbris, he stared for at least 20 seconds, studying her features. her eyes caught him off guard, causing him to quietly murmur something to himself. as he gently shook his head for just a moment he said, " terribly sorry. greetings, and yes, i'm here for the investigation. my name is Osiris Darshan, but, you may call me Osiris orr.. Dr. Darshan." the apology sounded hollow and fake, as if he didn't care. he reached to shake her hand, in an attempt to be as proper as possible. he looked over to the newly opened door, still holding up his hand, "I believe we're supposed to go through there." he looked back over to Imbris and then outside and then right back at her "though I do think we should wait for the others." he thought for a split second, "five of us in total, I believe.".

(note: Osiris is just studying Imbris, this is just on of his habits)

"Rest assured, everyone who is meant to be here is present." Balam intoned dully, standing guard by the newly opened room. Indeed, if one looked behind them, the other three members had stepped foot into the villa though at a more languid pace, a vague fog filming over their eyes as they took off their shoes. Perhaps the trek up the mountainside was quite exhausting, their presence muted in comparison.

As the last person stepped out of the mudroom and onto the flooring, feeling the bend of organic wood bending under foot, the grand double doors thumped shut, sealing away the cold as the house slowly began to warm up again. Silently, everyone's shoes shuffle into a small cupboard, each one landing into the velvet lined drawers with a gentle thump, pushed back into the cabinet by an invisible force

So-mi the moment you step into the manor, you immediately feel the pain of the house akin to a buffet fit for a starving Zannie. Alongside everyone you can see, you also feel 5 other presences below you. There seems to be a basement floor in which the other staff are waiting in.

Somi was wearing a black turtleneck with no sleeves, as well as black finger gloves. Her jeans were baggy and ripped; a navy blue color, and draped with chains and charms of whatnot. She wore a set of small rectangular sunglasses, which were, you guessed it, in different shades of black. Silver necklaces adorned her neck, and her hands were decked out in thin silver rings of all sorts. She wore black ankle boots, her hair up in messy space buns. Was she cold? Uh, freezing. But was she fashionable? Yes. And after all, beauty is pain. She steps into the cottage a long while after the other two gentlemen, alongside August and Dominic. They had been a little later than the two men, and their arrival had been mostly quiet and unseen. Her lips are rosy and her cheeks are flushed from the cold, but Somi remains cheery as ever- well, while trying to be respectful, naturally.

She slips off her boots and takes the slippers provided, slipping them on. Once the adrenaline of the cold has worn off, a new tingling sensation filled the air, and Somi shivered in excitement. Oh, so much pain, raw and delicious mourning that simply begged to be consumed. She’d have much preferred physical pain, but who was she to complain? Besides, Old Man told her she couldn’t just devour the pain of everyone around her. She held it in, her fists clenching slightly. Somi focuses on the pain, and detects the five staff members in the basement. She hums, making a mental note of it. Perhaps they weren’t meant to interview them yet, Somi thought to herself, as Balam invited them to another room beneath the staircase


outfit

As you enter the new room, you find yourself in the villa's sitting room. Compared to the welcome hall filled with soft candle light, the sitting room instead is bathed in natural sunlight filtering in from the large west facing window, stretching from ceiling to floor. It appears as if the windows can slide open, the thick glass separating the warm home from the frozen wonderland that lay just outside.

While the wall opposite to the windows remain bare, as you step into the sitting room, a large portrait greets you. Averting their gazes from you of the late Ya MengYa and Zagan Yali, both immortalized on canvas. Both their gazes stare at you, heavy and tired even when painted, as if even their perfection necessitated exhaustion. But despite the fatigue clinging upon their existence, their matching smiles seemed as if they could warm even the coldest of permafrost. Despite there being no rumours of MengYa ever siring a child or of a Songster apprentice, between the two, with one hand on each shoulder, stood a young wolven child positioned where a child would be in any other family portrait. A child clearly loved, for the other occupants of the painting have not once turned their eyes away from her.

At the centre of the room, an eclectic collection of chair stood around a low coffee table, all manner of colours and styles all unique from each other yet blending in with the room in harmonious unity. However, the most eye catching of all was the low table itself, a three tiered stand with sweets still placed upon it sitting next to a vase decorated with a beautiful array for winter flowers. From snowdrops to narcissus flowers, white petals decorated the porcelain vase in delicate beauty, some falling upon the gathered cutlery below. Plates with half eaten finger food and cups with long cold tea surrounding the centrepiece. It seems that they weren't lying when everything was left as it was on the night of the murders

"We apologize for the mess, but please. Take a seat." Balam motioned towards the seats. "We will hand out maps for this floor shortly."

As she spoke, a map is pressed into your hands by Lăcrămioara.