Mafia 106 - The Name of the Rose Medieval mystery murder most foul!
#461
Posted 25 October 2013 - 07:39 PM
Ok, i'm leaving work. May or may not check back before timeout.
#462
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:03 PM
Well, Grasp has done nothing to convince me, or even defend himself at all, so I'm fine with this.
Vote Grasp.
Vote Grasp.
#463
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:08 PM
20 minutes left.
4 votes Grasp (Ultama, Fanderay, Jalan, Cast)
4 votes Grasp (Ultama, Fanderay, Jalan, Cast)
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#464
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:09 PM
#465
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:10 PM
Not from where I'm standing.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#466
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:10 PM
Ghennan, on 25 October 2013 - 08:03 PM, said:
Well, Grasp has done nothing to convince me, or even defend himself at all, so I'm fine with this.
Vote Grasp.
Vote Grasp.
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Edit: idiot who almost killed me, well not quite, mmmm, really not even close
This post has been edited by Grasp: 25 October 2013 - 08:12 PM
#467
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:11 PM
2 votes Fanderay: Ghennan, Grasp.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#469
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:14 PM
Sorry, on my phone, it's still
4 votes Grasp, 2 votes Fan, 1 vote Jalan.
4 votes Grasp, 2 votes Fan, 1 vote Jalan.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#470
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:14 PM
#471
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:15 PM
#472
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:16 PM
Dammit, I always forget to remove vote.
Remove vote
Vote Grasp.
Remove vote
Vote Grasp.
#474
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:18 PM
7 minutes left.
5 votes Grasp (Ultama, Fanderay, Jalan, Cast, Ghennan)
If only you did this before I went out. Luckily, I wrote some scenes earlier and emailed them to myself. Two minutes.
5 votes Grasp (Ultama, Fanderay, Jalan, Cast, Ghennan)
If only you did this before I went out. Luckily, I wrote some scenes earlier and emailed them to myself. Two minutes.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#475
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:19 PM
Two girls from made in chelsea are sitting next to me on the train, they're really irritating.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#476
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:20 PM
Sucky dude. Mass transit, good for the environment but not mental health
#477
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:20 PM
#478
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:23 PM
After a day which seemed to go on for far longer than normal, Adso’s night was disturbed by dreams. Images. The library aflame, the books burning to ashes. But the words, the texts, they were being screamed out, as if the books were alive and wished to spit out their knowledge one final time before it was all lost. Adso knew they were doing this, but at the same time he couldn’t hear, couldn’t understand anything that they were shouting. Garbled gibberish, languages and tongues he couldn’t even begin to identify. And in the midst of the flames stood a girl –the peasant girl from the village, the supposed heretic –looking at him with pleading eyes to do something, to save her, to save the books. But Adso was frozen still, unmoving even as the flames began to lick at his feet. That girl –she seemed so innocent and yet so sensual at the same time, a true succubus. She was luring him –yes, that was it! –luring him closer to the flames.
Putting all his willpower into it, he tore his gaze from hers, only to find himself staring at the entwined naked figures of Berengar and Adelmo, oblivious to all except their own passion. And there was Venantius shouting at them –but in Greek, which no one else could understand. And Alinardo was walking past them, lost in his own world, muttering about Italians and foreigners and abbots long dead. Now, wherever Adso turned, there was another of the monks, each seemingly involved in their own conspiracy. Malachi and Benno hunched and whispering together, Severinus stumbling around his shelves, frantically searching and shouting, “I’ve lost it! I’ve lost it! Where is it? It was right here! Right here!” over and over and over. Remigio walking over to the burning peasant girl, unmindful of the flames which seemed to only stroke him lovingly, as he in turn pawed at her now-naked body with a look of utter lust written on his face. Blind Jorge laughing, laughing so hard that it was hurting him, but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stop, the tears streaming from his sightless eyes. Aymaro went between each and every one, whispering in their ears, throwing knowing glances and winks to one and all, whilst Salvatore did the same, shuffling in that grotesque way, endlessly repeating, “Per favore, Sie mir den Weg in proxima de l’arret de bus?”. And there was William –his tunic ripped, his chest bare, the words, ‘Finis Africae’ carved into his chest. And the fire was everywhere.
Everywhere. Fire.
Fire.
“Fire! Fire!”
Adso was startled awake by the shouting from outside his room, but too late. The room was filled with flames, and there was no way out. He would die in this place, the mystery consuming him as it had done all else here.
Grasp has been lynched. He was Adso of Melk, town, and Gust Hubb
Putting all his willpower into it, he tore his gaze from hers, only to find himself staring at the entwined naked figures of Berengar and Adelmo, oblivious to all except their own passion. And there was Venantius shouting at them –but in Greek, which no one else could understand. And Alinardo was walking past them, lost in his own world, muttering about Italians and foreigners and abbots long dead. Now, wherever Adso turned, there was another of the monks, each seemingly involved in their own conspiracy. Malachi and Benno hunched and whispering together, Severinus stumbling around his shelves, frantically searching and shouting, “I’ve lost it! I’ve lost it! Where is it? It was right here! Right here!” over and over and over. Remigio walking over to the burning peasant girl, unmindful of the flames which seemed to only stroke him lovingly, as he in turn pawed at her now-naked body with a look of utter lust written on his face. Blind Jorge laughing, laughing so hard that it was hurting him, but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stop, the tears streaming from his sightless eyes. Aymaro went between each and every one, whispering in their ears, throwing knowing glances and winks to one and all, whilst Salvatore did the same, shuffling in that grotesque way, endlessly repeating, “Per favore, Sie mir den Weg in proxima de l’arret de bus?”. And there was William –his tunic ripped, his chest bare, the words, ‘Finis Africae’ carved into his chest. And the fire was everywhere.
Everywhere. Fire.
Fire.
“Fire! Fire!”
Adso was startled awake by the shouting from outside his room, but too late. The room was filled with flames, and there was no way out. He would die in this place, the mystery consuming him as it had done all else here.
Grasp has been lynched. He was Adso of Melk, town, and Gust Hubb
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#479
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:25 PM
“Abo, please, listen to me! Someone’s taken it. Oh dear God, someone’s taken it!”
“Calm down, Severinus, and stop blaspheming. Taken what? What are you talking about?”
“The vial! You know the one I keep behind the books in my workroom? That vial of poison I made months ago. It’s gone!”
“I told you to destroy that thing, Severinus! Why was that not done so? You know that I have little patience for your experimentation, and now it could bring down tragedy on our whole community!”
“Please, Abo, forgive me! It’s just that it took me so long to translate that book on poisons and antidotes, and then to get it right even longer, I just thought I would keep it as a reminder of...of...”
“Of your skill, Severinus? It is that pride which will be your downfall. Now go back to your workroom, we must be doubly sure that it is indeed missing. Did you tell anyone else of its location?”
“Well, no, but the other monks come in and out all the time, anyone could have taken it had they been looking around while I wasn’t there. Abo...I do have some good news.”
“What could possibly be good news at a time like this?”
“The book – I found it! Hidden between two of my books – I didn’t place it there, I just happened to find it while I was looking for the vial.”
Abo breathed a sigh of deep relief.
“Thank the almighty God. Perhaps the person responsible hid it there until things died down, and then they planned to retrieve it. Go back, bring it to me.”
Panicked, Severinus double-timed across the grounds, only slowing down in sight of the herbalist’s building. The door was ajar. He had closed it when he went to see Abo. Slowly, he pushed the door open – to find that the large room had been utterly ransacked. And then he saw them, two feet hiding behind the curtain separating his private chambers from the rest of the room. Severinus started to edge out of the room...
A crack of something metal-hard against his head, and he collapsed. The last sight he saw was of the armillary sphere he had been hit with being dropped to the ground, dented, irreparably broken. The sphere – his proudest possession. The abbot had said it was his pride which would be his end.
Ultama has been killed. He was Severinus of Sankt Wendel, town, and Tattersail.
“Calm down, Severinus, and stop blaspheming. Taken what? What are you talking about?”
“The vial! You know the one I keep behind the books in my workroom? That vial of poison I made months ago. It’s gone!”
“I told you to destroy that thing, Severinus! Why was that not done so? You know that I have little patience for your experimentation, and now it could bring down tragedy on our whole community!”
“Please, Abo, forgive me! It’s just that it took me so long to translate that book on poisons and antidotes, and then to get it right even longer, I just thought I would keep it as a reminder of...of...”
“Of your skill, Severinus? It is that pride which will be your downfall. Now go back to your workroom, we must be doubly sure that it is indeed missing. Did you tell anyone else of its location?”
“Well, no, but the other monks come in and out all the time, anyone could have taken it had they been looking around while I wasn’t there. Abo...I do have some good news.”
“What could possibly be good news at a time like this?”
“The book – I found it! Hidden between two of my books – I didn’t place it there, I just happened to find it while I was looking for the vial.”
Abo breathed a sigh of deep relief.
“Thank the almighty God. Perhaps the person responsible hid it there until things died down, and then they planned to retrieve it. Go back, bring it to me.”
Panicked, Severinus double-timed across the grounds, only slowing down in sight of the herbalist’s building. The door was ajar. He had closed it when he went to see Abo. Slowly, he pushed the door open – to find that the large room had been utterly ransacked. And then he saw them, two feet hiding behind the curtain separating his private chambers from the rest of the room. Severinus started to edge out of the room...
A crack of something metal-hard against his head, and he collapsed. The last sight he saw was of the armillary sphere he had been hit with being dropped to the ground, dented, irreparably broken. The sphere – his proudest possession. The abbot had said it was his pride which would be his end.
Ultama has been killed. He was Severinus of Sankt Wendel, town, and Tattersail.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.
#480
Posted 25 October 2013 - 08:25 PM
Weekend freeze in effect.
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.