My apologies, I did not realize yesterday was a posting day, so do forgive me. Previously, I mentioned something unique called a “Ski Lodge”. In short, it is a murder mystery story where out of a group of participants, there will be one randomly chosen murderer by the author. The author then writes a day by day story, narrowing down in an intriguing way. As a few notes, being that this was originally a forum thread I created: 1. There will be unique character names, for again, this was originally posted on a forum board. I will explain a bit more down below.
2. There will be various, unique, and upsetting ends as the murderer will be discovered. The story lasts approximately 30 days, and there will be numerous twists and turns. Also, might I note, it starts off quite simply. Within less than five days time, this story will be extremely intense within the writing and unforeseeable end.
3. There are some characters that do not speak regularly, known as “CAPTCHA pets” from the forum. In short, they are like small flying pets of fur that speak very little English. There are also creatures called “AEs”, which is short for “alternate ego”. On the forum, this is used as an imaginary writing person of the author’s personality, so within this Ski Lodge, they act as participants.
4. The term, “CBer” is a nickname for the forum participants, so please do not mind that.
5. Perspectives will change on occasion. One day will be the third person, another day The Fortune of Death might tell the story, for each individual day is separate. Also, T.F.D will be saying “wonderful” and “my friends” a lot, for a reason you shall soon understand.
Today, I will post the intro and Day 1, so please do enjoy:
You rise early one morning to find a raven of the darkest midnight black, perched on the post of your wasted bed. Within his shining beak is a letter, of which you carefully remove and open. Ignoring the beady-eyed beast, you read the letter stating,
I invite you to my Shimarka Le’van Hotel, or simply called Le’van hotel by your fellow… outsiders. The place is gorgeous, with shining banisters of gold, lush beds of sheep’s wool and swan feathers, and a 24/7 meal service in bed. Our food is all hand gathered and prepped by our finest chefs. I promise you will be entirely satisfied with your stay. The reason I invite you this evening is to celebrate the 100th birthday of Le’van hotel’s founder, Pascal Décès Le’van, who still lives somewhere far out in the Shimarka Valley, alone, with his loyal cats and famed ravens. The taxi will pick you up shortly outside your door, and do not bring much. All necessities will be provided by the staff, that I promise. I do hope you can join us briefly, my dear friend.
Your friend, T.F.D
Not recognizing the name, but admiring the hotel’s beautiful sound, you quickly go to pack your bags and step outside in the pouring rain, awaiting your ride to the Shimarka Valley.
On a gloomy, cold day, a storm raged. A storm of numerous varieties: anger and the uncontrollable, hateful weather. The anger of one man so deep, so old, so ancient, rumbled through the lands like a raging volcano, almost uncontrollably. But no one knew him, no one knew his secrets.
Twenty-three beings waited alone outside their doors, the heavy rain splashing at their feet, blurring their vision. Twenty-three for the future, present, and past. Within seconds, oddly regular taxi cabs arrive at each of their homes, windows tinted, and their drivers clad in heavy raincoats. One by one, they all enter, and one by one their adventurous, odd, peculiar lives begin. Short lives.
“I do not trust this T.F.D person,” Spyro grumbles beside his CBer, Hotairballoon.
“Ahh and we do not trust you,” HAB replied quietly, eyes set on the foggy windows of the cab.
Quicker than expected, the twenty-three people arrived at the famed Shimarka Valley and it’s oddly lone hotel – founded by a currently one-hundred-year-old, slightly crazy, man. A man who fought in numerous wars led great lands and survived in a small hut miles away from his hotel. Not alone, but kept company by midnight black ravens and cats of most peculiarity.
“Welcome, welcome, to the Shimarka Le’Van Hotel!” A darkly cloaked figure says, raising gloved hands to the sky. “Aren’t we fortunate to have such amazing weather this afternoon?”
“Fortunate?!” Gossamer cries. “This place is on a freezing cold mountain that is raining!”
“Oh, I thought it quite fortunate. Ah well, follow me inside where it is dry, my friends.”
The twenty-three followed, unexpectedly changing their lives forever. Or at least, whatever lives they thought they had before exiting the raging weather of an old man.
“This is absolutely stunning!” Ashlee exclaims, spinning to take in the beautiful, enchanting hotel.
“We keep this place in prime shape for our… seldom visitors,” the figure says. “Go, go. Explore, claim your rooms, and settle down. My assistants will retrieve your bags, I promise. Oh, and please do not enter the attic unless you… eh, never mind, just do not go there, my friends.”
“Sys frends alt…” Wingnut whispers, but no one hears.
Whoever hears? An eery feeling set over everyone in the room, regardless of the gold and feathers, the peaceful setting. This place was not to be trusted, everyone knew deep down.
Malachite and Quantum explored the upper levels, laughing and talking as they went. Within minutes, they claimed a beautiful room of gold lining on the walls, and the softest beds imaginable. But something just wasn’t… right.
“Malachite, I am going to find Wingnut, I’ll be right back,” Quantum says before quickly running down the halls and sliding down the banister.
Malachite smiles, hearing the “Woohoo!” as her AE slides down the golden banister.
“Ahh… At last, I can rest.” She laid down on the swan feather bed, sinking into its glamorous world.
Sinking too far.
Within seconds, sweet Malachite’s mind had ended, falling into a peaceful rest, the swan feathers putting her young mind to sleep. Asleep at last.
“Malachite! Look what they brought us!” Quantum shouts, running into the silent room with Wingnut at her side and a basket in hand. “Cooki- Malachite? Where are- Oh no, are you asleep already?”
“Mlahite?”Wingnut calls out worriedly.
The two slip by the sleeping AE’s side and Quantum shakes her still body. Realization hits as hard as the aged man’s anger. Dead.
“Noooo, how did this happen? How did… how did…?”
The others come racing up with the cloaked figure by their side.
“What happened?” The figure asks. “Oh my, that’s a sad sight, isn’t it? Don’t touch her body, she could still be… contaminated.”
“This is a big issue, my dear AE just died!” Quantum cries.
“Yaeaeh,” Wingnut agrees.
“Do not be alarmed, she died peacefully. These beds can be very calming, you’ll never want to wake up.”
“I’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight,” Riddler whispers, eyes wide.
“See you all at supper, my friends! Assistants, take this sleeping girl to the Rose Maze.”
And as quick as lightning, yet painfully lasting like thunder, the body of Malachite was removed. The old man’s anger eased ever so slightly, but his hunger still remained. The Rose Maze would hold the dear body in safety from his everlasting anger just slightly longer… But not forever. Forever would mean twenty-three would live, yet clearly, only twenty-two were to carry on their beginning-yet-ending lives.
Death Toll: Malachite
Rest in peace, young AE, Malachite. The Rose Maze will love your visit. ~ The Fortune of Death