post of dead

[eye_and_heart]

Mr Henry Lascelles is dead. Much like the one or two he won't deny having killed earlier, he now lies in a pool of his own blood on the marble floor in the center of the Mansion entrance hall, having had his throat torn out, not, as might be expected, by a family full of vengeful medieval knights, but by an equally vengeful, equally medieval, god

Comments

[the_wooster]

Bertie has wonderful timing. Bertie has seen a man he just met lying dead in a high grotesque manner.

Bertie is now unconscious.

[eye_and_heart]

Lascelles -- oh, is dead. Right.

Lascelles, then, continues to be dead, and there are now TWO supine bodies on the floor of the entrance hall, one rather less bloody than the other. One more body and it'll turn into a nursery rhyme.

[le_desirous]

Sagramore does everyone a favour by having no ill reaction, and instead pokes both bodies with his boot toe.

[eye_and_heart]

Lascelles - should stop trying to reply to comments. Lascelles is dead. Lascelles' typist will bring in someone else to play with Sagramore or something.

[mancalledspade]

Spade sighed and then took a long drag on his cigarette. The murders were about to get as stupid as the lack of murders. Though this one was less sadism and more animalistic, so he took his time examining the body.

[ofthewildwolves]

Firekeeper comes in from the woods and stops upon seeing a rather familiar, if more mangled than she remembers, body. Instinctively, she snarls, on her guard, even though he is very clearly dead.

[mancalledspade]

"Easy, kid. He won't hurt anyone in this condition."

[ofthewildwolves]

She glances sideways at the other man and backs up a little, slightly wild-eyed, scrambling for a bit of English. "He - dead?" she says cautiously, just in case.