Ryuko's Mystery Murder Tour (Inactive)
Game Master Ryuko

Robert grins when the Professor begins to speak. He takes a long draw from his cigar, exhaling a ring of smoke and sitting back, letting his eyes slip closed as he listens to the hum of the ship around them. 'Someone dies tonight... I do hope it isnt me!"

He sits bolt upright, his eyes going wide, before he jumps to his feet. "Dia naofa!" He rubs his eye vigorously. "I almost forgot my medicine!" He bows to the group, before grabbing his bag of clubs and hurrying off.

"Hamish is already changing his vote on a whim with no evidence to back him up. That is suspicious and indicative of an untrustworthy sort. If anyone wishes to change their vote to him, I will surely follow."

Hamish walks over to Robert.

"Robert the Red, when I insulted you I think we threw down a couple of single malts. I couldn't fly my spaceship straight for days. How can you let one of those Englishmen like Hamish run around without exposing him for the assassin he is? Or is the movie Braveheart just Hollywood exaggeration?"

Leans away....

"What shall these assassins do unto me cut short my young life! What bragging rights shall that assassin have in killing me! Consider this should I happen to turn the tables, then the assassin and his ilk would become a laughing stock. I suspect they will come for me on my death bed, even then they would still fear me!"

Leans back into Hammish

"Live life and live it well!"

"Besides I have decided against going back and forth, when the bottle should be within easy reach!"

"Shall we toast?"

"Good luck to all in your endeavors! Be you friend or foe! Luck be with you assassins, you need it!"

"Save your pursuasions Wowbagger. The Red Robert would surly never turn his back on a fellow Scott. Especially one who's father was a silent investor for the Triangular Caber, which was also a brilliant idea I might add."

"Investments and funding adventures now that is some speculation to my taste. The question is how shall we profit from this? Perhaps my memoirs will one day prove of great literary value."

Pours another Brandy....

"Unfortunatly Old Man, the triangular caber was a 'uge flop in the marketplace Read the Red Roberts back story and a lot of people and investors lost their fortunes, The Cunninghams and Roberts included.

It looks as though The Red Robert 'as something new in the works if your looking for investments though. I overheard 'im talking to The Knight about it earlier."

With a nod of his head; "Dame Devries, I can tell your altrustic and fashionible nature just from your stance. You would certainly need the dosh to further those causes. I know a few Swedish au-pairs, that could use some employment - I am sure that they are good with children." Fairfax carries on listening as the fashionista talks about her project; though his mind wanders slightly whilst admiring her 'costume'.

He overhears the Scots men conversation; but he is aghast as the 'alien' calls Hamish an Englishman. "Excuse me for interrupting, but did you call Hamish an Englishman. Surely even fo one of such an alien nature could tell he is a proud Scot."

Change vote to: Wowbagger tIP

Current (And near final as you only have around an hour left) Vote count:
Adrien Ampere XII: 3
Wowbagger The Infinitely Prolonged: 3
Dr Lugwaude Lachelnschiefe: 1
Hamish Cunningham: 1

Note that a tie is not a good event for the survivors. In a tie, no one dies, giving the assassins one more day to have their way without being exposed.

Robert laughs heartily, patting Wowbagger on the shoulder companionably. "Aye laddie. That we did. I spent more days with me head in the jacksie than ever before, after that night o excess!" He sighs softly, shaking his head.

"Nay. I will nay change my vote. 'Amish is a good sort, proud and Scottish, like me and me old pappie!" He smiles encourageingly at the young Scots man, before speaking. "Tha goes for Wowbagger ere too young 'Amish! He is a good sort, if a wee bit over the top at times. Hows about we all relax and have another drink?"

Robert grabs Hamish around the shoulders, pulling the smaller man in against his side, doing the same to Wowbagger on the other side before walking them quite forcefully to the bar. Looking back over his shoulder at Sir Fairfax he grins. "Jimmy boy, join us. You too Duke!" He inclines his head to the Lady present. "You do be more than welcome to join us too Ma'am. For tonight, we are all alive and healthy. Who knows what the morrow brings?" He throws back his head and laughs wildly.

An intelligent observer would notice that Robert is not malicious, just completly insane.

He turned to Wowbagger and gave the man a one armed bear hug, before speaking. "So yeah lilly livered space man, what letter you on now?"

Having not come to an agreement, the nobles go to their beds without being sure of which among them may die within the days or nights.

The nobles were shocked to awaken and find that none of their number had died within the night. Expressions of confusion are thrown around in every direction. Could the investigators have been wrong? Could there have been no assassins on the airship at all?

Hamish Cunningham seems unconvinced. "They're here all right. I suspect that the insulter simply found no rooms open for him to-" He stops, looking at the slug of whiskey he had just downed. It was... fizzing. Whiskey wasn't supposed to fizz. Suddenly he felt a fizzing sensation in his throat, followed by blinding pain. Flailing, he attempted to find his way to a bathroom, perhaps he could manage to throw up the poison. In his flailing, he managed to throw his mask off of his face, showing a smooth head free of any sort of marks beyond freckles. The poor Scotsman gets three steps before pitching forward, unable to walk. He stops twitching soon after, and the staff apologizes as they take his body away.

Hamish Cunningham was assassinated. He was an Aristocrat.

Robert sighs sadly, picking up the glass, swishing the acid round the glass, before tossing the whole thing over board. "A damn shame. One less Scots man in the running!"

"Dear boy." James exclaims as he see the sturdy Scot start throthing at the mouth. Blanching and contemplating his own mortality. "So there is assassins, after all."

Robert pats the young Lord on the back consolingly, before his head falls to his chest. "Aye laddie. I am afraid so. Buck up though. We need to keep our wits about us!"

Wowbagger nods. "Scots can handle their whisky, there be assassins. It is not going to stop me from drinking."

Wowbagger produces five cherry oak casks of Macallan 25 year old scotch. He pops open a cask and produces a bottle with a decidedly amber look. He sniffs appreciatively and drinks from the bottle.

"Fruity, spicy with that chocolate orange taste I love."

He looks around the room.

"Anyone else want some?"

"Aye! I'll take a drink there Space Man!" Robert sighed, holding out his hand for the bottle.

"I had thought the bottle being brought here might keep poisons at bay. Apparently not, another bottle of brandy if you please and more cigars."

"Not an assassin, an I have had my eye upon one of you, I must therefore change my vote, wowbagger being odd and off-putting caught my ire, but will instead go with Adrien Ampere XII."

changes vote from wowbagger to AAII.

Wowbagger opens two casks and pulls out two similar amber bottles. He points to the one he has half emptied and the two full unstoppered ones. Assuming Robert wants the one he has seen Wowbagger drink from, he passes it on and opens a new one and starts drinking.

"Duke, you be drinking Brandy??????"

"Anyone need some Macallan?"

Wowbagger tries to speak with a Scottish accent.
"I'm Duncan Macallan from Clan Macallan. There can be only one Highlander."

He reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a large boombox and procedes to practice with an imaginary sword to the following song.

"I apologize my immortal musical tastes are dated, but this movie depicts accurately the dreariness of immortality."

Princes of the Universe.

Feeling despondent, the next song is more depressing, but according to Wowbagger too often overlooked.

Who wants to live forever.

"Golly bad show, poisoning someones' drink. How are we meant to enjoy our libations, with the possibility of their taste being befouled by toxins." the young Lord replies.

He lights a cigar; "There that's better, it'll improve the taste of my cognac." he says taking a crystal tumbler of the ochre liquid from the decanter. "Reminds me of the time I was on a secondment with the Dragoons in the Crimea, bad show there too. But nothing to get het up about Wowbagger, old chum - live a little."

Ampere slunk into the room after most of the others had already arrived, doing his best to avoid attention as he poured himself a glass of wine ad spiked it with something from a flask he took from his belt. He then took a seat in the corner of the room where he could watch everyone closely. Silently he sipped his drink and listened to the rest of the conversation around him.

Sir Jemes nods politely to the Frenchman; as he continues his lurid stories of war.

"Spice, liquors and stories must all flow. Does everyone know of the spice and the journeys to the heart of the great desert?"

Fairfax smiles; "I have travelled to the east, had a few hookahs in the Great cities. And the harems, well no need to tell a wise noble as yourself Duke Atredies. Dashed bad, that liquor is notably absent, you have to have sherbet." He says companionably, the Scots demise having made him more fervent to survive whilst others seem shocked still.

"It seems a moment of silence occured for Hammish rather spontaneous it seems to me. It must have been the right moment."

Wowbagger wobbles a little from the scotch.

Duke Leto is another non-Terran. His progeny has the sight and will become the Kwisatz Haderach. Trust his instincts.

Wowbagger casts his current vote for AA XII.

"Certainly dear fellow, quite astute comment and fitting for such a boisterous Scot." Sir Fairfax comments.

"So Mr Wowbagger what bring you to our little land? Come to see the sights and pay your respects to Her Majesty the Queen?" his voice cautious with his query. 'Could he be here to eliminate the best and boldest. Then am I next!'

"So long had I scoffed at titles I simply kept my first one never bothering to be know as this or that other thing. So long was I a duke it became part of my name, I guess if Arrakis constitutes a kingdom then I am a king, and if Arrakis constitutes an empire then I am emperor."

"Does it actually matter?"

Exasperated he repies; "Goshed darn it that's not English. Of course Titles matter, what are you? French? A socialist? We are men and women of breeding, we are our titles. Our Heritage can be traced back through our titles - they inform us and others of what we are, how we act."

He sips more of the cognac and swirls it contemplatively in the bowl of the glass. "How about another title - 'assassin'?"

Dame Devries had been mostly quiet after seeing what had become of poor Hamish. She eagerly jumps at the Duke's mention of a story. "Well, I for one haven't heard about this desert spice. And you should be one to lecture on breeding, Sir James Durham-Fairfax. Half the orphanages in Europe know of your 'exploits', and how you scatter you 'heritage' far and wide." She scolds him idly as she settles in for Duke Atredies's account of distant lands. She sips piping hot coffee spiked with aquavit in the Scandinavian fashion, figuring it might be best to avoid the scotch and brandy in the immediate future.

She studies Sir James's face carefully, looking for any hint of the tattoos that she is increasingly convinced the mask must conceal.

Vote for Sir James Durham-Fairfax

"Indeed! Therefore I am now an Emperor! I feel no different. Assassin is not a title it is an insult, it is a man fully grown who will not face a man openly! If someone wishes to challenge me with a grave injustice, I would attempt to correct the wrong, or allow the man some satisfaction. If necessary even a duel."

Fairfax raises his hands placatingly; "Old Chap. I seem to have misspoke. It's just with all this dashed bad business; must have got to my nerves - that's not English."

Taking a step back; "I have no wish to duel you, I an a strong swordsman, ' 'but not a good one' "but we should not be too hasty. You are correct a gentleman faces his enemies."

Fairfax slumps in a large plump chair, taking a mouthful of brandy at the tense situation. He turns his head to the beautiful Professor; "My dear Lady, can I help it if I can cut a dash amongst society. The good book does tell us to 'be fruitful and multiply.'" He wink beneath his mask.

"A fight is it?" Robert perks up immediately, pulling the knife from his sporran with glee, he grins madly.

"I'll fight ya laddie, if only for the entertainment!"

Vote for AA XII

Looking about slightly startled James says; "Not I! The Scots' have a reputation for bravery and tenacity, I am no Campbell."

"I have no quarrel, known to me, with any gathered here, but fencing is something I did intend to do. Alas as you can see I have my hands busy."

Brandishes his brandy in one hand and the cigar in the other.

Sir James laughs and pats him comradely upon the back. "Just my sort of chap, ready to fight but with more pleasant things to do."

Taking a sip of his drink he looks towards the port-holes that show the clouds below as the drift past. "I wonder why Sir Ryuko invited us upon this excursion could he be the one behind the assassins? What do you think? Has anyone ever met him?"

"When I insulted Sir Ryuko he seemed quite affable. Obviously he invited me here with assassins, so I can't be too happy with the outcome."

After a few moments of thought Wowbagger adds.....

"To relieve the long space journeys I try to play Pathfinder on the Paizo boards. Lord Ryuko always rejects my Drow Noble Drizzt-like scimitar wielding characters in his recruiting threads. When I insulted R.A. Salvatore he game me his personal permission to make as many Drizzt clones as I wanted for noncommercial uses."

"I met him once and briefly at a gathering much like this one, though minus the assassins as no one died. I did not have the pleasure of his company or discussion of current events."

lol Wowbagger

Fairfax inclines his head. ""Yes, I did hear that he can put on quite a do. That's why I am here, that and the money."

Standing up he moves to a small table and takes a nibble of a canape; "The food is superb; despite the potential of poison. It really makes it exciting." Looking to the strange Wowbagger; "Of course I have no idea what you just said; do you take sustanence?"

Vote for Professor Alessandra Devries

Ludwauge wakes up from his drug induced coma with a little yelp wild yelp. "....Nien! NIEN! Warum ist mir das nicht EINGEFALLEN!"

Looking around embarrassed he chippers "You know if'v we don't throw someone over'a board soon I do believe our chances of certain doom go up exponentially, yes?" glancing around causally at his fellow aristocrats "Vwwahh.. Vho is dis Ryuko again?" he asks a little confused.

"Vany ways we do need to throw, v'well, someone off this ship. Would anyone care to explain to me why it shouldn't be the frenchman?" he asks before slouching back in his leather armchair and taking a deep breath of his handkerchief.

Vote for AA XII (till someone changes my mind)

Robert sets about eating and drinking with a passion, as the day goes on. He becomes loud and boisterous, singing songs, clapping the men on the shoulder and even offering to dance with the lovely Professor. He gets locked in to regaling James with tales of his days as a young man, carousing the hills and glens of Scotland.

Sir James drinks heavily along with Red Robert 'If we are to have a bachanal, tehn might as well go all out.'

"That's sounds dashed fun Robert, I knew a few Scots from the Blackwatch, grand men if a bit stoic. Pity what happened to them." he responds.

"Nay laddie... The fewer Scots the better!" He giggles wildly, red in the face from all the whiskey. "One less today already!" He hiccuped, before bursting in to laughter.

"Careful lads! Alcohol poisoning is a real possibility!"

"Tis fine to steel ones nerves not to seek oblivion."

"And a lot less Scotch, too." James lets out a uncontrolled laugh, a bit out-of-sorts. To Duke Letos' comment he raises his glass "I seek not oblivion, jus' good companionship, good inerbriation and a good damsel. To a voyage into the unespected." the alcohol seems to have made his humour dark.

Ampere seems lost in thought as Lachelnschiefe comes to, but the Doctor's remark seems to shake him out of his reverie. Slowly he steps forward, squaring his shoulders and lifting his head--For the first time shedding the visage of fear and reclusiveness that he has been shrouded in ever since the announcement of assassins spread through the ship.
"The reason you should not throw me over the side, Doctor, is really quite simple--I am not one of them.
If anyone is an assassin it most likely would be that Wowbagger type. You wouldn't believe some of the things he once said about my family. There are plenty of reasons to kill him even if he isn't one of them."

As if his statement settled the matter, Adrien quickly left the room, muttering something about needing fresh air.

Vote for Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged

Votes:
AA XII:4
Sir James: 1
Dr. Lugwade: 1
Wowbagger: 1

Adrien Ampere left for his fresh air in a huff, but it seemed that was the last straw. Several followed him out, onto the balcony, which for whatever mad logic Ryuko allowed had no railing. They pressed in on all sides, weapons and tempers bared. Eventually, Adrien simply grew frustrated. "Damnit look at this then." He stated, throwing his mask over the side of the ship. His throw was quite too hard, and he suddenly found himself tumbling through the sky toward the ground, forehead bare and lacking any hint of ink.

Adrien Ampere XII was Lynched. He was an Aristocrat.