“Argh, I hate traveling!” you say as you arrive in Devonshire, England, at the local taxi stand, wielding the immaculate weight of your ever-increasing bag. You, as well as 11 other guests, have been invited to the Antonacci estate because you seem to be a proprietor to the ever-valuable estate to which the owner, Mr. Eduardo Antonacci, has left for a “better place.” As you approach the estate in the cab, which you have just caught, you once again look at the invitation, which puzzled and still does puzzle you as to the nature of it. It reads as follows
Dear Esteemed Guest,
We are writing to you to solemnly inform you of the death of Mr. Eduardo Antonacci, esteemed businessman and owner of the famed Antonacci estate. It seems that in his last Will and Testament, you were left as a benefactor, and we would like for you to attend an inquiry involving his possessions on the 20th of April 2004, at the Antonacci estate, in Devonshire, England. Lodging, food and refreshments will be provided; we look forward to your company.
-Sincerely,
Bernardo Echevarria
Bernardo Echevarria, proprietor to the Antonacci estate
After reading this letter again for what seems like the millionth time, you put it away, heave a great sigh, and once again tune in to the bickerings of the esteemed cabby, relentlessly describing to you the countryside in all its green glory. After a few more moments of listening to him, the Antonacci estate comes into view, and it is nothing short of miraculous. A large brown three-story building, approaching in size what seems to be 10,000 square feet comes into view. You also notice the stone gargoyles adorning the top of the roof, with a statue of Julius Caesar himself adorning the front entrance, which is in itself a door of pure gold. You wipe your eyes from the exposure, and then the cab stops in front of the entrance. You pay and tip the cabby (not without the usual grunt of unhappiness as to the tip), and you leave for the front entrance. As you approach the door, you notice a poem on the wall, and you think you have heard it before. It goes as follows:
Ten little Indians went out to dine.
One choked to death, and then there were nine.
Nine little Indians sat up very late.
One overslept, and then there were eight.
Eight little Indians, traveling in Devon,
One got left behind, and then there were seven.
Seven little Indians, chopping up sticks,
One got chopped in half, and then there were six.
Six little Indians, playing with a hive,
A bumblebee stung one, and then there were five.
Five little Indians, going in for lore,
One got in chancery, and then there were four.
Four little Indians, going out to sea,
A red herring swallowed one, and then there were three.
Three little Indians, walking in the zoo,
A big bear hugged one, and then there were two.
Two little Indians, fooling with a gun,
One shot the other, and then there was one.
One little Indian, left all alone,
He hanged himself, and then there were none.
You enter the house after reading this, thinking that coming here was not such a good idea…
Dear Esteemed Guest,
We are writing to you to solemnly inform you of the death of Mr. Eduardo Antonacci, esteemed businessman and owner of the famed Antonacci estate. It seems that in his last Will and Testament, you were left as a benefactor, and we would like for you to attend an inquiry involving his possessions on the 20th of April 2004, at the Antonacci estate, in Devonshire, England. Lodging, food and refreshments will be provided; we look forward to your company.
-Sincerely,
Bernardo Echevarria
Bernardo Echevarria, proprietor to the Antonacci estate
After reading this letter again for what seems like the millionth time, you put it away, heave a great sigh, and once again tune in to the bickerings of the esteemed cabby, relentlessly describing to you the countryside in all its green glory. After a few more moments of listening to him, the Antonacci estate comes into view, and it is nothing short of miraculous. A large brown three-story building, approaching in size what seems to be 10,000 square feet comes into view. You also notice the stone gargoyles adorning the top of the roof, with a statue of Julius Caesar himself adorning the front entrance, which is in itself a door of pure gold. You wipe your eyes from the exposure, and then the cab stops in front of the entrance. You pay and tip the cabby (not without the usual grunt of unhappiness as to the tip), and you leave for the front entrance. As you approach the door, you notice a poem on the wall, and you think you have heard it before. It goes as follows:
Ten little Indians went out to dine.
One choked to death, and then there were nine.
Nine little Indians sat up very late.
One overslept, and then there were eight.
Eight little Indians, traveling in Devon,
One got left behind, and then there were seven.
Seven little Indians, chopping up sticks,
One got chopped in half, and then there were six.
Six little Indians, playing with a hive,
A bumblebee stung one, and then there were five.
Five little Indians, going in for lore,
One got in chancery, and then there were four.
Four little Indians, going out to sea,
A red herring swallowed one, and then there were three.
Three little Indians, walking in the zoo,
A big bear hugged one, and then there were two.
Two little Indians, fooling with a gun,
One shot the other, and then there was one.
One little Indian, left all alone,
He hanged himself, and then there were none.
You enter the house after reading this, thinking that coming here was not such a good idea…
Roles will be out shortly. When you get them confirm and send night choice by pm
Still Alive 5/12
blackhawk
drummer97531
MMCL
Toodle
Yaw
Gone to literary heaven
Phillip Lombard (1-shot vig) was choked to death- Mlaker
Anthony Marston (1-shot vig) overslept- Phoebus
Professor Moriarty (mafia) poisoned by cyanide- mogg_fanatic
Dr. Watson (doctor) abandoned- Candice
Sir Hugo Baskerville (Mafia) poisoned by cyanide- EnpaceRequiescat
Sherlock Holmes (Cop) chopped in half- yomipithe
Justice Wargrave (Mafia) poisoned by cyandie- chaotic_diablo
Town wins
Town wins
rhymes with noodle.
