Night 1 results: Jane has been eliminated; she was a protagonist and the investigator.
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Day 2
"Breaking news! Chiavo Police confirmed two arrests this morning. Jane Montgomery, an American-born attorney suspected of working for the Crogiolo Syndicate, was arrested for extortion, money laundering and interfering with police investigation. A restaurant owner known as 'Uccian Kuso' was also taken into custody around the same time, with speculative charges of, get this, cannibalism!"
The news footage first shows surveillance camera recording. Jane is there, outside of an unknown Syndicate member's residence (the details have been censored), sneaking about and sifting through someone's personal belongings. Then, police officers pour into the scene, from seemingly nowhere. The footage cut to Jane being taken into custody in the early morning. Finally, there is a brief clip of Jumbo Meatstick behind cordons.
"Shocking! Well, in other news," the news anchor continues, "contact has been lost with the Antarctic station known as STAB..."
Six syndicate members are at a private flying club on the outskirt of the city. It is almost noon. They are called there by Giulio Cespuglio, the former tourism minister and an ally of Federica. Everyone is at first skeptical of this meeting, but Mr. Cespuglio manages to convince them with another headline; himself coming under investigation.
Giulio Cespuglio is a lanky and self-assured man in his forties, being one of the youngest ministers in Chiavan history (attained through numerous illegal dealings). Today, standing inside the cramped hangar, his graying and receding hair makes him look a decade older. Instead of his typical designer suit, he is wearing hoodie and jeans. Cespuglio's hair is also uncombed; he must have rushed out here.
"Oh boy, glad I went vegetarian." Cespuglio snickers. "I knew something was off with that Kuso guy, and now I know where you Crogiolo folks dispose the bodies."
"You should go through with it too, Koundouros." He adds, nodding to Lucia. "Meat here is poison."
While Cespuglio is watching TV with the syndicate members, his personal guards stand watch just out of earshot, but well within sight. These guards are armed, and responsible for searching every syndicate member when they arrived earlier, making sure none of them are hiding recording devices. One of them approaches when Cespuglio switches the TV off, and they exchange a gesture. Outside, on the runway, a plane is being powered up.
"I have to go now, so here's the deal." Cespuglio goes to a nearby cabinet, digs out a bottle of vodka and pours himself a generous shot. "I talked to Federica yesterday, they're moving her to house arrest before the trial. She wants me to tell you that the traitor's one of you, actually, probably two of you, in this room."
Cespuglio downs the vodka in one gulp; he shakes his head. "Strong stuff, maybe I should go with tea in the morning. I think you figured that one out better than me, Ms. Saigyo."
"You know," something beeps and Cespuglio checks his phone, "my daughter follows you on Instagram, Alice; good thing I moved her out of country."
"Anyway, I'm leaving too. That new police chief's starting a witch hunt. Don't even think about going after me; I still have enough resources to take you down with me."
"Thanks for the saving on my taxes, Leo. And thanks for getting me that painting, Vinnie. I can't take it with me, so I've sent it back to you." Cespuglio leaves the vodka aside. He zips hoodie up. "Oh, and Hayford, I donated to the medical college last month; you may want to mention me in your application, or not."
"I hope you people can sort this out." Cespuglio signals his guards for departure. "And whoever sold your friends out, I hope you get a kick out of playing hero."
The news footage first shows surveillance camera recording. Jane is there, outside of an unknown Syndicate member's residence (the details have been censored), sneaking about and sifting through someone's personal belongings. Then, police officers pour into the scene, from seemingly nowhere. The footage cut to Jane being taken into custody in the early morning. Finally, there is a brief clip of Jumbo Meatstick behind cordons.
"Shocking! Well, in other news," the news anchor continues, "contact has been lost with the Antarctic station known as STAB..."
Six syndicate members are at a private flying club on the outskirt of the city. It is almost noon. They are called there by Giulio Cespuglio, the former tourism minister and an ally of Federica. Everyone is at first skeptical of this meeting, but Mr. Cespuglio manages to convince them with another headline; himself coming under investigation.
Giulio Cespuglio is a lanky and self-assured man in his forties, being one of the youngest ministers in Chiavan history (attained through numerous illegal dealings). Today, standing inside the cramped hangar, his graying and receding hair makes him look a decade older. Instead of his typical designer suit, he is wearing hoodie and jeans. Cespuglio's hair is also uncombed; he must have rushed out here.
"Oh boy, glad I went vegetarian." Cespuglio snickers. "I knew something was off with that Kuso guy, and now I know where you Crogiolo folks dispose the bodies."
"You should go through with it too, Koundouros." He adds, nodding to Lucia. "Meat here is poison."
While Cespuglio is watching TV with the syndicate members, his personal guards stand watch just out of earshot, but well within sight. These guards are armed, and responsible for searching every syndicate member when they arrived earlier, making sure none of them are hiding recording devices. One of them approaches when Cespuglio switches the TV off, and they exchange a gesture. Outside, on the runway, a plane is being powered up.
"I have to go now, so here's the deal." Cespuglio goes to a nearby cabinet, digs out a bottle of vodka and pours himself a generous shot. "I talked to Federica yesterday, they're moving her to house arrest before the trial. She wants me to tell you that the traitor's one of you, actually, probably two of you, in this room."
Cespuglio downs the vodka in one gulp; he shakes his head. "Strong stuff, maybe I should go with tea in the morning. I think you figured that one out better than me, Ms. Saigyo."
"You know," something beeps and Cespuglio checks his phone, "my daughter follows you on Instagram, Alice; good thing I moved her out of country."
"Anyway, I'm leaving too. That new police chief's starting a witch hunt. Don't even think about going after me; I still have enough resources to take you down with me."
"Thanks for the saving on my taxes, Leo. And thanks for getting me that painting, Vinnie. I can't take it with me, so I've sent it back to you." Cespuglio leaves the vodka aside. He zips hoodie up. "Oh, and Hayford, I donated to the medical college last month; you may want to mention me in your application, or not."
"I hope you people can sort this out." Cespuglio signals his guards for departure. "And whoever sold your friends out, I hope you get a kick out of playing hero."
The first day phase is done; here's the tally.
No one dies this turn, and we go to night 1. Check your PM if you have a nighttime role.
- Alice - 3/7 (Reika, Vinnie, Lucia)
- Reika - 2/7 (Alice, Jane)
- Abstain - 2/7 (Leo, Rachel)
No one dies this turn, and we go to night 1. Check your PM if you have a nighttime role.
That's all the votes; 3 for Alice, 2 for Reika and 2 abstaining. No one will be lynched if this is the final count. You can change your vote within the next 24 hours, before it's locked in.
Rachel says, taking a sip of her drink before waving a hand at Erika.
Who's Erika?
2 for Alice and 1 for Reika; keep them votes coming.
Now that everyone's posted, it's time to vote on the first lynch.
And also free feel to keep posting in IC.
And also free feel to keep posting in IC.
Ok, here's the first day phase. Feel free to respond in the IC and start accusing people. At least 4 votes (out of 7) are needed to lynch someone.
Day 1
Jumbo Meatstick is one of the most obscure restaurants in Chiavo. It is a Turkish joint that only opens three hours a day, and three days a week. Its food and prices are alright, though no one would go out of their way for them. Even so, Jumbo Meatstick's dining room is always booked. The average Chiavan is fine with pickup or delivery, but for those with enough insider knowledge, they'll know this old two story location is the Crogiolo Syndicate's prime meeting place.
The owner, a short and bearded Turk known as Uccian Kuso, prepares the lunch today all by himself. He normally has a boy and girl assisting him, supposedly his nephew and niece. They are acquainted with the syndicate, but whenever Federica Azzurro comes over with her entire inner circle, Kuso would give them the whole day off.
The big oak table would normally seats eight guests on such occasions. Today, there is only seven. The typical chatter, both business and otherwise, is absent at this moment. Kuso emerges from the kitchen with a big platter of kebabs. He is wearing one of his many starch white dress shirts underneath his apron, though it is wrinkled rather than the pristine state it had always been. There is a bulge in his pants, its blocky shape probably hints toward a concealed handgun rather than his excitement.
The only sound in the dining room comes from a small TV hanging on the far corner. The headline all day has been Federica Azzurro's arrest. There has apparently been a shootout before that; Federica's driver and bodyguard, Tom Bergman, tried to fight through the police, and was quickly shot dead by SWAT officers. Detectives found numerous incriminating evidence in Federica's mansion. Drugs, forged ledgers, stolen artworks, blackmail materials. The police chief says anonymous tips are to thank for the bust, but the criminal community knows otherwise.
"Enough of that." Kuso declares. He sets the kebab platter on the middle of the table, and shuts off the TV. Drinks (without alcohol, since Federica never drinks before 4pm), salad, pita bread and everything else is already served. Kuso looks at each of the syndicate members, then at the wall behind them, where an antique painting of a medieval saint stands vigil.
"Here you go; enjoy your lunch." Kuso rubs his stubby hands clean on his apron.
He walks over to the windows, making sure the blinds are securely shut. Then Kuso fidgeted with his belt buckle, and the concealed sidearm underneath it. He makes the syndicate members leave their weapons at the front, inside their own secure containers. Still, he is debating whether or not he should say something about the situation. He's not the person for Crogiolo's secrets, but the seven people here all are.
"Federica trusts you handle this, uh, business." Is what Kuso settles on saying. "I'll be at the front; give me a shout if you need...cleaning up, or anything else."
The Turk leaves with the heavy double door closing behind him, leaving seven people around a dimly lit table.
The owner, a short and bearded Turk known as Uccian Kuso, prepares the lunch today all by himself. He normally has a boy and girl assisting him, supposedly his nephew and niece. They are acquainted with the syndicate, but whenever Federica Azzurro comes over with her entire inner circle, Kuso would give them the whole day off.
The big oak table would normally seats eight guests on such occasions. Today, there is only seven. The typical chatter, both business and otherwise, is absent at this moment. Kuso emerges from the kitchen with a big platter of kebabs. He is wearing one of his many starch white dress shirts underneath his apron, though it is wrinkled rather than the pristine state it had always been. There is a bulge in his pants, its blocky shape probably hints toward a concealed handgun rather than his excitement.
The only sound in the dining room comes from a small TV hanging on the far corner. The headline all day has been Federica Azzurro's arrest. There has apparently been a shootout before that; Federica's driver and bodyguard, Tom Bergman, tried to fight through the police, and was quickly shot dead by SWAT officers. Detectives found numerous incriminating evidence in Federica's mansion. Drugs, forged ledgers, stolen artworks, blackmail materials. The police chief says anonymous tips are to thank for the bust, but the criminal community knows otherwise.
"Enough of that." Kuso declares. He sets the kebab platter on the middle of the table, and shuts off the TV. Drinks (without alcohol, since Federica never drinks before 4pm), salad, pita bread and everything else is already served. Kuso looks at each of the syndicate members, then at the wall behind them, where an antique painting of a medieval saint stands vigil.
"Here you go; enjoy your lunch." Kuso rubs his stubby hands clean on his apron.
He walks over to the windows, making sure the blinds are securely shut. Then Kuso fidgeted with his belt buckle, and the concealed sidearm underneath it. He makes the syndicate members leave their weapons at the front, inside their own secure containers. Still, he is debating whether or not he should say something about the situation. He's not the person for Crogiolo's secrets, but the seven people here all are.
"Federica trusts you handle this, uh, business." Is what Kuso settles on saying. "I'll be at the front; give me a shout if you need...cleaning up, or anything else."
The Turk leaves with the heavy double door closing behind him, leaving seven people around a dimly lit table.
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