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Sometimes, Silence is a viable option.
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Oct 3, 2017 08:42
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WOW now that is a way to kick off the gameMraagvpeine posted:Seeing that the first time (from the previous LP) was shocking. I wonder if it's a one time thing that colors your expectations for the rest of the game.  I vote for saying "...", this game is less like Ace Attorney than we thought so maybe we'll have better luck treating it like a JRPG
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Oct 3, 2017 11:34
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I'll vote for "..." since there is no option for "You did your duty as an attorney, which to provide your client a just defense. Her guilt or innocence has no bearing on the matter. In fact, her being left off means that you have ensured that the system will give the same grace to an innocent person in her position" ...seriously, anyone else annoyed at all the talk about attorneys being evil just because everyone has the right to a fair defense? What would be the alternative? "That guy looks shady so off to jail"?
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Oct 3, 2017 21:50
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Defense attorneys do an enormously important job and are not generally evil, at least not more so than other people. In this case, our protagonist feels awful not just because he got a guilty person off (which he could possibly tolerate), but because he Matlocked an innocent man into jail in her place. That part is going to make it sting a lot more.
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Oct 4, 2017 01:16
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dot dot dot that bird man
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Oct 4, 2017 02:27
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Act 3 introduction (watch this) Of course. How could I ever forget. The chanting. The violence. The smell of gunpowder. July Revolution (Symphonie Fantastique, 5th movement)            Aviary Office     : Morning, Spa- : No, wait, it's two in the afternoon. That means the official greeting is... : Ugh. It's far too early for this level of roasting. Pass the Cabernet Sauvignon.: No way. We've got important business to discuss, and I can’t do that if you’re half-drunk.: Mon Dieu, give me a break. I haven't had a good night's sleep since the trial. : Something on your mind?: Actually, yes. It was what that wolf judge said.: Pshaw. That guy was off his rocker. And besides, if we worried about every potential French revolution, we would never get any work done at all. Am l right?: ... Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Worrying doesn't do us any good. Tell me about the “important business” you wanted to discuss.: Oh? Oh, yeah. The business. : This one's from the Paris police department. Fancy wax seal and everything.: That is indeed a fancy seal. Well, go ahead, Sparrowson. You may have the honors.: “Monsieur Falcon. Meet me on the rooftop cafe opposite the Place de la Bastille. I have a proposal. Regards. Inspector Volerti." Uh... that's it. How terse. : A proposal from the inspector? Interesting.: Do you have any idea what sort of proposal he has in mind?: Not a clue.: So... are we going to go meet him and find out? : I don't know what sort of proposal the inspector has in mind, but we would be foolish to reject it without even hearing him out. Grab your coat.: Alright! No dilly-dallying. I like it. : I need to drop by the hospital at some point.: What did you eat this time?: No, no. It's not like that. Well, not entirely.. I need to pay for the bill from my last visit.: Oh, that’s reasonable. Sure, we can pay a visit. But the inspector's call should take priority, I think.  : And back we go.: Falcon. What are you doing?: Procrastinating. I know that I should go talk to the inspector, but it's so much easier to just do nothing. : For pity's sake! No procrastinating! No drinking! We're going to meet the inspector if I have to drag you by the tail feathers!    : Brr~>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> <<<<<<<<<<  : Who knows. Maybe the inspector likes the view because it reminds him of his days guarding the Bastille under the Ancien Regime.: Wait, you think the inspector worked here during the Ancien Regime? Do you think that's how he got his war wounds?: It was a joke, Sparrowson. I'm pretty sure the Inspector isn’t that old. Leo Delibes - Gaillarde, Madrigal & Passepied from Le Roi S'Amuse : Séverin! What are you doing here? : Settle down, Jayjay. Just like you, I was invited here by the inspector.: What could he want with all three of us?: It is hardly unusual for the lawyers and police of France to collaborate. The Inspector probably has a big investigative role that requires all hands on deck.: A big investigative role... sounds juicy.: Oh, by the by, did you hear what happened to Judge Romulus?: No, what? : So he escaped justice...: For now. But don’t fret. Nobody manages to escape the long arm of the law forever. Hector Berlioz "Grande Symphonie funebre et triomphale"  : Ah. Good. You're all here.: Excuse me, Monsieur Mister Inspector Volerti Sir. Falcon and I were wondering: did you get your injuries while defending the old Bastille prison?  : Don't drag me into this, you fool! I was joking!: You impudent whelps! I'm not that old! : I sustained these injuries when in the July Revolution, eighteen years ago.: I was a royal guard. Just a lowly peon. The air was thick with gunpowder and blood.: Oh, great; Now you've set him off. We were given the order to charge at a rebel barricade. My comrades and I fastened our bayonets.: Suddenly, boom! Without warning, a gunpowder keg exploded. My comrades were dead. I was heavily wounded.: That's when I looked up, and saw a looming figure standing between the gargoyles of Notre Dame. It was the Viridian Killer himself.: ~Ahem~ This is a fascinating story, Inspector, but perhaps you could tell us why we are here. : What I am about to tell you is to remain strictly confidential, you understand? It's a matter of national security.: As you’ve probably heard, France is under threat from a... certain heinous group. : Hipsters. : Now’s not the time for joking, you two. The Inspector's obviously talking about the growing rumors of an uprising.: Correct. A rebellion is coming.: Indeed. Rebels. There’s a storm brewing in the shadows of Paris.: (sic) for that bad transition.: We, the Paris Police Department, have known about it for months. No, years.: In every tavern and on every street corner, people talk of organizing protests and overthrowing the government.: The king has ordered for public gatherings to be dispersed and newspapers to be censored, but the whispers of dissent remain.: No surprise there. If you take away an angry citizen's ability to speak, they will just get even angrier.: Indeed. And that's why its paramount that we find and strike at the heart of the rebel group as soon as possible.: For that, I need your help.: What exactly do you want us to do?: Interview citizens. Scout locations. Find the secret rebel meeting location that has escaped the eyes of the police.: Do we have any leads?: Just one. : Like the sandwich?: What?: The Croque-Monsieur. It's a hot sandwich. Cheese, ham, a little béchamel. Throw on some peppers if it’s Friday night.: This has nothing to do with sandwiches! "Croque-Monsieur" is the alias of an accomplished and notoriously dangerous arms dealer!: In any case, that's everything the Parisian police know.: That's everything? That's all you have to demonstrate after years of tracking?: ...: Naturally, as a public prosecutor, it is my duty to help the police with their investigative work. I would be honored to lend any and all assistance.: (Suck-up): That's very good to hear, Monsieur Cocorico. But what about you, Falcon?: Well, to be honest, Inspector, I don’t quite understand why you're asking me. I'm a private defense attorney. I work for citizens who get stuck in legal trouble. Rebel-hunting isn't quite my forte. : Look around you, Falcon. We are surrounded by corruption and incompetence.: The judges are blood-thirsty wolves, the jailers are thieving ravens, and the national guard are sitting ducks.: Look at the slackers and dullards who supposedly protect and serve this country. Nobody cares about justice any more.: You saw my shameful display at the previous trials. Those are the results I produce with imbeciles to assist me.: But you three... You care.: Falcon, I saw you defending Dame Caterline and Prince Juan.: I heard of your escapades around the city, frantically collecting evidence and interviewing witnesses.: Frankly, you did more investigative work over the last month than I’ve seen any policeman do in a year.: ...Not including myself, of course.: But Dame Caterline-: It doesn't matter. You have passion and conviction, and you aren't a total bird-brain.: By my book, that makes you a fantastic investigator, even if that is not in your job description.: So what do you say? Do you want to sit around your office, twiddling your thumbs until another pointless job offer falls into your lap?: Or do you want to take this opportunity to do something great, and help us track down the animals who wish to harm our glorious nation? : I don't think so. Sorry, Inspector.: Come now, Falcon. Let's not make hasty decisions. What would it take for me to change your mind? : I’m a private attorney, Inspector. Séverin is paid by the state, but I am not. I would be happy to collaborate with the government, but I need some sort of compensation.: Ha! Of course. What was I thinking?: How does fifty francs upfront and fifty more upon completion of your duties sound? : I don't get out of bed for that sort of money, Inspector!: Fine, fine. I could probably scrape a little more from the budget. How does seventy francs upfront and seventy on completion sound? : That sounds just fine. I'm glad we could come to an agreement. : I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary. You already have all the key facts of the investigation.: Find the elusive Croque-Monsieur. Find where the rebels are congregating. Those are your two tasks.: I will check up on your progress in three weeks’ time. See what you can accomplish by then.: I'll be doing my own independent investigation into the rebel group, Jayjay. So I suppose this is a competition of sorts. ...Try to keep up with me.: Don’t make me laugh, Séverin! I’ll have all the rebel leaders behind bars before you even have your first suspect!: Come on, Sparrowson. We have a Croque-Monsieur to hunt!: Okay! Let’s go!: Heh. I knew a little competition would kick those bird-brains into gear. : Not so fast, Cocorico. There is something else we need to discuss... : This case can make a swift turn from "kinda difficult" to "basically impossible" if you ignore the blatant hints to check out the hospital first, so let's head there right now.   : Um, excuse me, Doctor Falret. I just wanted to thank you for, you know, giving me an antidote, and, uh, making me well, and stuff. : It’s no trouble at all...Sparrowson, wasn't it? Of course, there is the small matter of the debt.: R-right.: Let’s see... one hospital bed... one dose of specialized antidote... expert medical care from the attending physician... The total comes to five hundred francs.: Ah! : Calm down, Sparrowson. I'm sure the doctors a reasonable man. He will surely allow you to pay in installments.: Of course, of course.: Oh, thank goodness. With my current wages, I should be able to fully pay off my debt by the twentieth century.: Hey! Your pay isn't that bad!: Now, now, there’s no need for quibbling. I have a suggestion. You messieurs are lawyers, yes? If you do some pro bono work for me, I may be able to knock the bill down a little. Maybe to, say... one hundred francs.: Oh, that sounds much more manageable! What kind of legal work do you have in mind? : That actually sounds quite fun. It will be a nice change from this Croque-Monsieur nonsense.: Yes! Give us the details, doctor!: There is a man I treated for a small injury a couple of years ago. He's been evading my attempts at collecting on his bill ever since. : I wouldn't normally pursue medical bills so aggressively, but I know that the man is a successful inventor. He can easily afford to front the bill. I would greatly appreciate it if you would pay him a visit and strong-arm him into loosening his purse strings.: Well, I'm not making any promises, but maybe we can swing by the inventors house, if we have a free minute.: Thanks, Falcon!: And thank you, Docteur. We will dedicate every waking moment to collecting this debt!: Wait, I didn't agree to that!   Etude (Chopin - Etude Op 25 #5)    : I am. And you are... : We’re lawyers, sent on behalf of Docteur Falret. We're here to collect a debt that you owe.: It’s time to pay up, monsieur!: Oh mon Dieu, I completely forgot about that. Listen, I would be happy to pay, but it looks like I don't quite have enough money on-hand.  : I have a brand new invention that will blow the doctor's socks off. It's a device that will completely revolutionize the surgical field!: I imagine the doctor would prefer hard cash over some gadget.: No, no. Trust me. This baby will easily be worth ten thousand, no, one hundred thousand francs. The doctor will love it.: Oh, alright then. Hand the device over, and I'll pass it along to Docteur Falret straight away.: Well... it's not that simple. The device isn't finished yet.: It’s not finished?: I know exactly what needs to be done, but I am missing some crucial parts. Perhaps, if you had some time to spare, you could help me out? Run out and collect what I need?: What? No, monsieur, that’s absurd. If you have shopping to do, then you should do it yourself.: Falcon, please! Help the man! I can't spend the rest of my life in debt!: I think I might mark the cymbal-clash lines with sirens smilies next time. : Great. I'll take notes.: What is it that you need, monsieur?: Let's see... I need a copper pot.: A pot? As in, like a saucepan? What on Earth for?: It's a necessary component of my invention. I can use it to build a portable electric battery. You see, when a zinc rod is suspended in sulfuric acid, accompanied by a copper surface, a current is generated...: Save me your scientific mumbo-jumbo. One metal pot should be trivial to acquire.: One ~copper~ pot.: Oh, the copper part is important? Okay, one copper pot. I wonder where i we could find one of those.: I've seen copper kettles at Les Halles market... although, those things aren't too cheap. I can’t help but feel that I saw a copper pot somewhere else...: Hmm, what else... string! High-grade string, to bind some components of the device together.: Seems simple enough. I imagine Les Halles market would have that in abundance.: Can we really afford to blow our whole budget at the market, Falcon? Surely there's a cheaper way to acquire string. : The string must be higher quality than that, monsieur. I need something that's fishing line-grade.: Was there anything else that you wanted, monsieur? Some books? Confectioneries? Alcohol? Groceries, perhaps?: No, no. That's everything.: Alright. I’ve got it all written down.{[Shopping list]} has been added to your evidence folder.  : I feel a little conned. We came here to collect on a debt, and left with a shopping list.: We're going to follow through and get Monsieur Trouvé’s items, right?:...
Xander77 fucked around with this message at 17:36 on Jun 23, 2018 |
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Oct 5, 2017 14:12
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He seemed off. How did he remember the names of everyone so clearly, even a lowly flower girl?
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Oct 5, 2017 14:47
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He's quite a character.
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Oct 5, 2017 15:58
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Definitely a character, his story seems reasonable for now.
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Oct 5, 2017 17:11
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I'm going to be contrary and say that he seemed nice.
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Oct 5, 2017 18:09
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Historical background: In 1848, Spain was going through a rebellion considered part of the Carlist wars: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlist_Wars Funny how most of the animals seem to be human-sized, with only the mouse being close to natural.
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Oct 5, 2017 18:44
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He is a character. Wouldn't technically be wrong at least.
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Oct 5, 2017 22:44
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He's definitely a character. Also I have to wonder how much of a prince he actually is. Then again if Europa Universalis has taught me anything, you're exactly as much of a prince as a lawyer says you are.
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Oct 6, 2017 02:35
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He seems nice Yeah, let's go with that.
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Oct 6, 2017 04:46
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He seemed off
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Oct 6, 2017 09:11
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   : ... Berlioz Symphonie Funebre et Triomphale : Ah Cocorico. You're already here.: You have news about the Croque-Monsieur? Or is this about... the other matter? : Very good. Let's take a look...: Now, could you please tell me what this is about, Inspector? What exactly are you looking for?: Hmm...: Look at this list of graduates. Do you see any names you recognize?: Well, I see my own. Class of 1837. And I see that moronic prosecutor, Rupert Rabbington, under the class of 1846. Oh, and there's Jayjay Falcon's name under the class of 1832.: Very good. Now take a look at this register page from 1829. See anything amiss?: ... Well, I don’t see Jayjay's name... but I'm not sure quite what that implies, Inspector.: The explanation is simple. Jayjay Falcon changed his name some time between 1829 and 1832. Right around the time of the July Revolution.: And why would he do that?: Why indeed. : But Falcon? He is a bird of prey. It is in his very nature to draw his talons and lash out at those around him.: I have no doubt that, when the pressure rises, he will show his true colors.: I’m not sure if I agree with your personality assessment, Inspector. I have always suspected that Jayjay was a buffoon, an imbecile, and a troglodyte, but never would I describe him as a person of malice: Hmmph. Time will tell.: Do you need me for anything else, Inspector? Or shall I continue my investigation into the Croque-Monsieur?: There is one more thing. : A pistol? No thank you, Inspector.: These are dangerous times. If you face a violent threat, you cannot hope to defend yourself with that riding crop of yours.: I’m well aware. I just find that these ghastly things tend to escalate situations, rather than mitigate them.: Hmph. That's what everyone says during peacetime.: Take it. Thank me when it saves your hide.: Fine, fine. I'll keep hold of it.: Well, Monsieur Cocorico, you have been most helpful.: I’m just doing my duty. Good day, Inspector.  Renard Vulpes (Charles Tournemire - 3rd Symphony "Moscow")   : Monsieur Falcon. Monsieur Sparrowson. I believe this is our first time meeting without disguises or pretenses, as it were. Oh, but first things first... : Mousey, would you kindly fetch our guests some tea? : Oh, of course, Monsieur Vulpes, of course! Messieurs, what sort of tea would you like? Chamomile? Darjeeling, maybe? : Actually, some Darjeeling would be divine. Thank you, Mousey.: Sure, Darjeeling sounds good to me too.: Okay! One pot of Darjeeling coming right up. : Lets get down to business. What is it that you two came here for?: We just have a couple of questions. : Monsieur Vulpes, have you heard any rumors of an uprising?: Of course. These days, a man can't walk into a tavern without hearing angry men whispering about violence and revolt. I dare say that Paris may find itself in the midst of yet another revolution before the end of Winter.: But what can you tell us about the dissenters, specifically? Do you know where they are meeting?: I’m afraid I only know what you can read in the papers, monsieur. I know anti-government protesters were meeting out in the open until the government clamped down on large, public banquets. With the banquets gone... who knows where the dissenters went? Perhaps I can assist you with something else. : Have you ever heard of a person called the Croque-Monsieur?: And no, we aren’t talking about the sandwich. Unfortunately.: The Croque-Monsieur... : Yes! That sounds exactly like the person were looking for! Do you know him?: Me, personally? No, monsieur. I just know of his vile reputation.: I see. Then, do you have any idea how we can find him?: Hmm.: Meeting the Croque-Monsieur face-to-face is not easy. The man doesn’t make himself known to just anybody, after all...: I know. I shall do a little investigative work of my own. Come back in three days, and I will tell you where and when you can find the Croque-Monsieur.: That’s an enormous help! Thank you so much, Monsieur Vulpes.: Of course, there is a price.: A price?: It is just a small fee. A mere thirty francs.: Hey! We saved your derriere over that Prince Juan business! Is this any way to show your gratitude? : I'm sure your intentions are noble, Monsieur Falcon, but I am running a business here. A fox has to eat. Thirty francs, and I guarantee I will find you the Croque-Monsieur. That's my final offer. What do you say? : Here you go, monsieur.: 134 francs left. : Very good. As I promised, return in three days or later, and I will tell you where the Croque-Monsieur can be found. Rest assured that I will undertake my end of the bargain with care and diligence.: I expect nothing less. Thank you, Monsieur Vulpes. : It is my pleasure. Was there anything else you wanted to ask?: That’s all. Have a pleasant day, Monsieur Vulpes.: As to you, messieurs.: The tea’s ready, Monsieur Vulpes, it's ready! : Oh bother.   : Well, well, well. If it isn’t the rude lawyers. You know, you owe me, big guy. : I... owe you? : So the way I see it, you owe me two francs for the fishing line, and one million francs for saving your life.: I don't have one million and two francs.: Really? But you look so bourgeois... Alright. I tell you what two francs for the line, and we'll call it even. : Fine. Here's two francs. Consider it a gift of gratitude for saving my life. : Much thanks, monsieur. Now, why are you here?: Why are we here? Oh, right. We have some questions. : Have you heard of a man called the Croque-Monsieur?: A man called the Croque-Monsieur... Nope. Doesn’t ring any bells. That’s a strange name, though. Did the man name himself after the sandwich, or was the sandwich named after him?: I have absolutely no idea.: I can only aspire to have a sandwich named after me one day. : Stop. You’ll give us all heart attacks. : So... caught anything good?: Today? Not a kipper. This new fishing line is really good, but I’ve run out of good bait, so its practically useless by itself.: That’s quite an issue. : It... just might. Say, Monsieur Kingly. Since you aren’t catching anything, would it be possible for us to take that new fishing line off your hands?: Sure. What's it worth?: Didn’t we already go over this fishing line payment business?: Yeah, but that was compensation for the old fishing line. If you want to buy this new line, that’s a whole separate matter. Also, I saved your life. Remember? And I was polite enough to not rub that fact in your face. Much.: Fine, fine. So, how much did the new line cost?: Ten francs.: There is no way that that line cost ten francs.: You’re right. It cost one. But I added a little mark-up. : Hmm, I guess it is a bit. I tell you what, if you can provide me with some killer bait, I’ll give you the line for free.: Killer bait? Like... worms?: Sure. Worms. Sweets. Whatever. So What’ll it be? Do you have some bait, or do you just want to pay me the cash? : We don't actually have any bait, but might as well give this a try. : Could this work as bait, monsieur?: No, not really. Do you have any real bait, or are you just going to pay me the cash?  : Excellent. And here's your line.{[Fishing Line]} has been added to your evidence folder. : Wait. Hold on. Now I have no fishing line or bait! I did not think this deal through.: Oh well. Can I help with something else? : I think we're done here. Happy fishing, monsieur.: Bye, Monsieur fisherman!   : A quick look at all the places that don't waste a day.  Not a creature was stirring. Not even a Mousey. : Renard said he would have finished his investigation in three days, didn’t he?: Oh. Yeah, I guess he did.: ...Well, we’re too early, aren’t we?: Yeah, I suppose we are.   : Uh, well...: We need a little more time, Docteur.   : I see “Sacha Spider's Silverware Store”.: Too pricey. Let's take it down a notch.: Okay, how about that place over there? “Harry Hippopotamus’s Pottery and Haberdashery”...That name just rolls off the tongue.: Still too pricey. We're buying for a mad scientist, not for the Queen of England.: What about that little stand: “Rods Odds and Ends”. Looks cheap, and I even see a copper kettle in the back!: Now we're talking. Excuse me, madame! Saint Saens: Carnival of the Animals~Kangourous : Wait... Those two look familiar...: I recognize you. Weren't you two begging outside Chateau Criniére a couple of weeks ago?  : We put ya money to good use, see? We started a business! At Rods Odds and Ends, we sell everything!: I suppose a congratulations are in order. It's no small feat to pull yourself out of the streets in today's economy.: So... do we get a discount?: A discount?: Well, we did help kick-start your little enterprise. I suppose we are investors of sorts.: Sorry, messieurs. No discounts. Ya gave us a donation out of the generosity of ya hearts. : Because you are such nice people!: But maybe we can help ya out. What is it that ya wanted? : Do you have any string or fishing line? : I think so. How much?: Fifteen francs.: Fifteen francs for string? Come now, that's ridiculous.: It’s no ordinary string, messieurs. It's the string with a thousand uses! You could make a fishin’ rod. You could fix somethin’ that's broken.: You could play cat's cradle.: You could stitch some clothes with it. : Okay, okay, you’ve both made your pitch. : ...But its still too much. Sorry, but there's no way I'm spending fifteen francs on a piece of string.: We understand. Did ya want somethin’ else, monsieur? : Thirty francs. : Thirty francs for a kettle? That's far too much.: But this kettle is super fancy, see. Look at all ‘em engravings! It's nice and stout. Look at the handle!: Look at the spout!: With somethin' like this, ya can sip ya tea while pretendin' to be a hoity-toity bourgeois!: Yes, yes, it's very fancy, but that's still more than we can afford. How does twenty francs sound?: I'm not barterin’, monsieur. It's thirty francs or nothin’.  : And here's ya kettle. Pleasure doin' business with ya, monsieur!{[Copper kettle]} has been added to your evidence folder. : Was there anythin’ else?: That's all, madame. Thanks for all your help.: Be sure to come back if ya forgot anythin’, monsieur!    Renard Vulpes : Monsieur Vulpes. You've managed to dig up some good information, I trust.: ... There is good news and there is bad news. : Hit me with the bad news first.: The Croque-Monsieur refuses to speak with anyone who does not know a secret password. And I'm afraid I was unable to procure that particular password.: I see. That is a problem. So what’s the good news?: If you want to meet the Croque-Monsieur anyway, I’ve learned that he lurks around the Rue des Marmousets on Friday evenings.: The Rue des Marmousets? Oh, the monkey road, by Notre-Dame. That’s easy enough to get to.: I apologize that I could not be of more help.: It's no problem at all, monsieur. You've given us a fantastic lead. Rue des Marrnousets on Friday. I'll be there. : I shan’t delay you two any longer. I’m sure you have a lot of investigative work to do.: That we do. Thanks for all the help, Monsieur Vulpes. : We're in 19th century Paris. Inventing a battery-powered device for a medical professional specializing in mental issues. I was quite certain I knew where the game was going with this. Etude   : Yes, monsieur. The string and copper pot, exactly as described. Here you go.: What... What is this? A fancy kettle? It’s made of copper, I suppose, but what an odd choice...: It was a little tricky to procure the necessary items, but with a bit of asking around, we managed to find suitable substitutes.: There's a general store down the street that sells string and discounted copper pots and the like. I assumed you would have gone shopping there.: Mother. Fucker. YOU WERE RIGHT THERE. We discussed our shopping right in front of your fat walrus face. You participated in the loving conversation. : ...: ...  : Ta da! May I proudly present to you... : (Trademarked. Patent pending.): ...It looks like a pair of kitchen tongs hooked up to a stewing pot.: Agreed. I wasn't expecting something so low-tech and, well, bad.: Hmm... perhaps a demonstration is in order. One moment, if you please.: (Psst. Falcon.) (That thing looks like junk! This whole fetch quest has been a waste of our time!) : (There’s nothing to be done, though. Lets just humor Gustave until we get an opportunity to leave. Cut our losses.): (What about my medical debt?): Time for a demonstration! Get ready to have your stockings blown off, messieurs! : O-okay. That meat is a soldier.: An oddly-shaped and potentially tasty soldier. : So, our soldier is wandering through a battlefield, not a care in the world, when all of a sudden... BAM! The person has been shot! The musket ball has been embedded in the man's flesh!: (I'm scared, Falcon. He slammed that metal into the meat like a mad man!): Quick, messieurs. You're a battlefield medic. The soldier is wounded, and you have precious little time. What do we do? : I think your patient is dead on the operating table, monsieur. He's just a slab of meat now.: Use your imaginations, messieurs!: I’m imagining it lightly fried in garlic butter... : Most battlefield medics would have opted for careful surgery. They would use a scalpel to carefully cut out the bullet. Now, I hear you wondering, “Monsieur Trouvé, surely there must be a better way?”: I wasn't-: Well, wonder no more! : And then, as I move the detector component over the meat...: Is... is that thing humming?: It is, monsieur. When the “electro-magnet” component of the explorer-extractor detects a piece of iron, the device vibrates and emits a soft hum.: I must say, I'm actually impressed, monsieur. A device that can detect metal beneath flesh? That's innovative! I’ve never heard of such a thing before.: Yeah! But why limit it to battlefield surgery? You could repurpose that thing to be some sort of treasure-hunting device! That would make you really rich.: Hold your horses, messieurs, hold your horses. I'm not done yet. You have only seen half of the devices capabilities - the “exploration” part. Now, you can witness the second part... Extraction!: Did... did that thing just...: Yup. Sucked out that bullet like a pip from a grapefruit. : So, what do you think? Pretty revolutionary, huh?: ...I think that meat looks a lot less appetizing than before. It's practically exploded.: I... I have no idea what to think. Monsieur Trouvé, you are a strange and mildly terrifying individual, but I cannot fault the innovation of your device.[Explorer-extractor]} has been added to your evidence folder. : Ah, thank you, thank you. I'm sure the good doctor will approve.: I'm hungry. Let's pick up some steaks on the way back to the office. : Ok, let's go reap our just reward.  : Ah, you've returned. Were you successful?: Well...: Monsieur Trouvé didnt have any money. But he did give us something that he claimed to be extremely valuable. : ...What is this?: Monsieur Trouvé called it an Explorer-Extractor. He said that it would revolutionize the medical field.: ...: I don't quite understand how it works, but maybe I could demonstrate it, if you have a piece of meat and a lump of metal handy?: ... Monsieur Falcon. Monsieur Sparrowson. I sent you to retrieve owed money. Instead, you return, several days late, with this... child's toy? : Just forget it. Forget the whole task. It was foolish of me to rely on private attorneys, and it was foolish of me to assume that a crazed inventor would produce money when asked.   : Oh. He's gone. : Sorry, Sparrowson. It doesn't look like you'll be getting your discount.: Well, there go my year's wages. So... what do we do now?: Get back to our investigation into the Croque-Monsieur and the rebels, I assume. We've wasted precious time on this fool’s errand.: Quick update on our evidence: 
Xander77 fucked around with this message at 18:08 on Jun 23, 2018 |
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Oct 7, 2017 16:13
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: Here for some shopping, are we? : Actually, I was thinking of Mademoiselle Cygne. I know she’s not here now, but the area just reminds me of her.: Oh, the flower seller. I think she moved away, Falcon. Didn't she say she was visiting her parents in Vienna?: Oh yeah. Right. Let's move. We've wasted enough time here.  Louis Armstrong Ochi Chernyie (Dark eyes) : Calm down, Sparrowson. I'm just here for information. Taverns are the first place people go to moan about the government. Therefore they are perfect rebel breeding grounds.: Oh, that makes sense. : Ah, it’s you two! What will it be today? Wine or beer?: I'm afraid it's just questions for now, Madame Quanelle.: We're looking for a man called the Croque-Monsieur. Have you seen him?: Hmm... no, that name doesn't sound familiar at all.: Okay. Have you heard any of your patrons bad-mouthing the government? : Ah... sic?: That’s true. But has anyone stood out?: Well...  : Now, I'm not saying they are or they aren’t rebels, but they're doing far too much talking, and not enough drinking, if you know what I mean.: I think I do. Thank you, madame. Let's see, where to go.. : The card players have the exact same dialog they had the last time around. No clues if you win. They're basically there in case you haven't won any of the previous cases, haven't negotiated an advance with Volerti, and still want to pay your way to victory this time around. Anyways, we're headed for the drinking room.  : Pierro, you know that she hates being called “mademoiselle”. You°re going to get stuck with guard duty again. : Oh, right you are. “The madame” it is, then.Wait, she ain't married, is she? So why do we have to call her “madame”?: Why don't you ask her yourself? : No way! She would straigh' up eat me alive if I asked that directly!: Wait. Hush up. Do you smell that? It smells like... : Eavesdroppers.   : What were you two just talking about, before we rudely interrupted?: Hmm. Well, I would like to include you in our conversation. But to be perfectly honest, I don't think that's any of your business. : As a matter of fact, it is our business. You see, we want to fight alongside the rebels.: We... we do?: Listen 'ere, you-: Hold on, Pierro. Let me handle this. : Now, I don't know who you are, but I do know that your line of work involves a fair amount of investigation. Therefore, I must assume that you're some sort of detective or prosecutor. Am I far off the mark?: ... Well...: As I thought. Now, I don't claim to be part of any secret rebel alliance. I’ve never heard of such a thing. But if I were a member of any such hypothetical group, I would not allow the entry of a man of the law like yourself. Understood?: ...drat. That’s a solid shutdown.: Yeah. I’ll try asking something else. Monsieur, have you heard of a man called- : (There's a slight chance that these guys might be rebels, right?) (So if we ask directly, they might be scared off.): (Good point. I'll try to keep it subtle.) : Monsieur, I see you are carrying a rifle. : Evidently. : Who manufactured it? : See? It's American, from the Springfield Armory. Model 1812. Percussion lock firing mechanism.: An American musket, you say? That's certainly quite special. It must nave been hard to procure.: Its true that you can't buy guns of this quality from standard street sellers, but if you know the right people. (sic, no "..."): Please go on.: Well...: Ok. : “The Book of Judges”? What is this, some sort of law book?: The books subject is not important. Just take it.: Oh, I see. It's THE Book of Judges, from the Bible. Old Testament stories of God smiting people and stuff. I appreciate the gift, monsieur, but I’m not religious.: Nor am I.: Then why are you-: Just take it, ya idiot!: Sentiment seconded.  : Code phrases?: Pierro, please. I'm trying to be low-key, and I can't do that if you're mouthing off with that big beak of yours.: Try to forget what my friend said. Just... with a little searching, and with the contents of that Good Book, you should be able to get what you desire.: Is... is that a religious metaphor?: No, monsieur. I'm being very literal.[{The Book of Judges}] has been added to your evidence folder. : Well, thank you very much for the gift, monsieur. But to be honest, I have no idea how this is supposed to lead me to our gun salesman.: Ah. I see. Well, I hear that there is an excellent friar who performs Bible readings at Notre-Dame Cathedral. Perhaps, if you show the man your new book, he will be able to find you a particularly spiritual passage.: Are you sure that this isn’t all a religious metaphor? I feel like you’re trying to convert me.: I assure you, I’m as secular as they come, monsieur.: Holy poo poo, we're rapidly approaching Phoenix Wright levels of cast stupidity. : Friar at Notre-Dame Cathedral. Thank you, monsieur. I'll make a note.: Was there something else that you wanted?: Thank you for your assistance, messieurs. : ... You two seem like decent fellows. You shouldn't get involved in this rebellion business. Just... do whatever you need to do with the Croque-Monsieur, and get out of Paris. That's what a smart person would do.: I appreciate the advice, monsieur.   : Yep. Let's make a move.    Scaffolding lines much of the crumbling outer wall. Unperturbed, a handful of devotees are silently kneeled in thought. (sic?) : Here for a little prayer, are we, Falcon? I had no idea you were the religious type.: Don't be silly. I'm following up on Fontaine’s lead. We must find our mystery friar..: Do you think its that hunched-over fellow over there? I bet it’s him. He looks super suspicious.: It could be. Let’s show some tact- : ... Do you know what tact is, Sparrowson?  : Are you here to confess your sins? Or perhaps you wish to join in our services?: Actually, friar, we're here because- : That friar... he looks eerily familiar... : I don't see it.: What?! Am I going mad? How can you seriously not see it?!: Your friend appears to be upset.: Don't mind him. He's just in a huff because he thinks you look like this judge we once met. : Oh, good. I'm not going mad.: Friar, would you say that you had a good relationship with Romulus?: We were close. But as you may have heard, he got in trouble with the law recently. I haven't seen him in weeks.: I see. I didn't mean to pry.: It's no trouble. But tell me, why are you here, my brothers?: Oh, right. Well, we have a couple of questions. : What's with all the scaffolding? Is some sort of construction work going on?: That's right. A little repair. A little renovation. : But now we’re well on our way to restoring this holy place to its former glory.: The Cult of Reason... the religion of Christianity... Hey, Falcon. What's the difference between a religion and a cult?: Don't be rude, Sparrowson.: Ah, don't worry, my brother. I understand how it is. To a young person, all ideologies look like gobbledygook in different packaging don’t they?: Pretty much. : Then maybe you'll come to learn the differences as you grow up. I promise, some ideologies are worth following to the very end. But let’s not talk any more about cults and ideologies. Did you want anything else? : Friar, we have something that we would like to show you. : Please take a look at this.: I'm sorry. This means nothing to me.: Oh. Well, let me try something else.: Ok, let's...: Nope. Despite what would be suggested by any semblance of logic AND what Falcon just said, presenting the wrong item just ends the day on the spot. Bulllllllllllllllllllllshit. Let's rewind and do it right this time. : Could you take a look at this? We heard that you could give, uh... special passage readings.: Ah, I see. You have your own copy of the Book of Judges. I think you will find chapter 15, Verse II to be particularly enlightening.: Let's see... chapter 15... verse II... This chapter follows the journey of Samson, the heroic judge with divine strength. : Please could you read the passage? (sic for lack of commas): Okay. “Three thousand men of Judah went to the top of the rock Etam.They said to Samson, ’Knowest thou not that the Philistines are rulers over us? What is this that thou hast done unto us? And Samson said unto them, 'As they did unto me, so have I done unto them.”: “As they did unto me, so have I done unto them.” A beautiful sentence, Wouldn't you agree? : It's poetic. A beautiful summation of justice.: You understand the passage! That's delightful to hear. Yes, Samson was a great judge. : Shophets were to be admired and feared. They made their own judgments and dispensed their own punishments. Ah, I'm starting to ramble, aren’t I? Okay, let's get back to the point. The key word of the day is “Etam”. That’s the name of the cave where Samson hid. The Rock of Etam.: Etam. Got it; I’ll make a note.: It's like a backwards “mate”. But I’m confused. What do we do with this “key word”?: That is for you to learn on your own, my brothers. You appear to be intelligent. I am sure that, if you put your faith in the right people, you can uncover the truth.: We'll see what we can do.: Is there anything else I can help you with today? Perhaps you wish to make a confession?: I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time, friar.: Go in peace, my brothers.  : Is that him?: It must be. Excuse me, monsieur!  : What's the pasword?: The password? Uhhhh... : Etam.: Oh! I took you fellas for bird-brained cops, but you actually know the secret password. So, what do you want?: Well, let's start with introductions. You are the Croque-Monsieur, are you not? : Mon Dieu, people always get the pronunciation wrong.: I'm not really hearing the difference.: In any case, Monsieur Croc-Monsieur, my name is-: Don't tell me, you idiot! Bringing up names can mess up an entire meeting! Why do you think I use an alias? Just tell me what you want. Drugs? Guns? Explosives? Slaves? Come on, I don't have all day.: Well, to be honest, what I really want is... : I know you've been supplying weapons to a rebel group. I want to know everything. Who they are. Where they are meeting. What they bought from you.: Heh. If I sold out my customers, it wouldn't be good for my reputation now, would it?: I suppose that’s true...: Just kidding. Money beats integrity any day. : Five hundred francs for information? That seems a little steep.: Steep? This intel is probably worth fifty thousand francs to the Parisian police! I’m giving you a bargain. Listen, you pay me the full five hundred right now, and I'll tell you exactly when and where you can find the rebels. : Do you take checks?: Very funny. And no, I don’t take pocket lint either. It's cold, hard Napoleons only. : Sainte merde! It’s the fuzz! Cheese it! : Wait, wait! Monsieur Croc-Monsieur! Come back!: Never fear, Falcon! I’ll tail the dastardly fellow!  : What's all this ruckus? Playing cops and robbers, are we, Jayjay?: Are you blind, Séverin? That was the Croc-Monsieur! We were on the crux of extracting some vital information about the rebels, but your smug entrance just ruined everything!: Hmm? : That was the Croc-Monsieur? I never would have guessed.: You don’t sound very concerned.: Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m quite impressed that you managed to track down such an elusive criminal. : More pressing than finding the rebels?: ... Jayjay, I want you to answer this question sincerely and honestly. Did you go by a different name, prior to enrolling at Paris Law School?: What? What does that have to do with the rebel investigation? Or to do with anything, for that matter?: I would appreciate it if you just answered the question, Jayjay. I need to hear it from your own beak. Have you ever gone by a different name? : I don't deny it. A man has a right to change his name.: Indeed, a man does have that right. But why would a man do such a thing?: I don't appreciate your accusatory tone. You sound just like Inspector Volerti. : ...: Answer me, Séverin! What is going on? What did Inspector Volerti say?: ... : Man... that croc can run.: It appears that you two are making solid progress with your investigation into the rebel group. I'll be sure to let the Inspector know.: Where are you going? We haven’t finished our discussion, Séverin.: We have. I've learned what I came here to find out. : What... ~wheeze~ what was that all about?: It doesn't matter. Séverin is just poking his beak where it doesn't belong.: Heh.. nosey... blighter.: So, tell me about your little adventure, Sparrowson. You lost the Croc-Monsieur, I take it?: Yeah... He looks... like a stumpy reptile... ~Wheeze~ but he ran... like a gazelle! I lost him... in no time at all...: I see. Well, with the Croc-Monsieur's lead gone, our investigation has reached a dead-end. : Not entirely... He dropped something... during... the chase...: He dropped something? What, exactly?: I'll show you... follow... me...  : I think you need to do more exercise, Sparrowson.: Don't judge me. : Ow.>>>> : Ow.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> : Ow. : No. My foot's hurting. I think I got something in my shoe.: Well, grit your beak and bear it. This is around where you saw the crocodile drop something, right? Then let’s put on our investigation hats and find... whatever it is. : The sign is difficult to read. The paint has faded. Tr... Trodel Fruitier?: Tiuqde Fkuitier.: There's no way it says that. You just made those words up.: All words are made up, Falcon.: ... : An empty cart. Somebody has scrawled the word “Descartes” on it. The owners name, perhaps?: I don't think so, Falcon. See the graffiti on the wall behind you?: ... Deswall...: Somebody thinks Desfunny.: ~Sigh~ : “Noah's Bar. All animals are welcome!” “Except mosquitoes. You blood-suckers can go get your fix some place else.”: Noah feels pretty strongly about mosquitoes, huh.: Well... he has a point. I'm not saying all mosquitoes are blood suckers, but-: Woah, Falcon! Keep it classy.: I'm just stating facts... : Does that street lamp look broken to you?: Yep. I think all the lamps on this street have been vandalized. The ground is covered in glass from the broken panes. Oh! That explains why my foot is hurting.: It does? : Oh no! My good shoes are ruined! : Well, I wouldn't say “good”. You paid twenty cents for them..: File this away in the evidence folder.: You... want me to file away the broken glass?: Yep. I'm filing an official formal complaint to the government. Their faulty street lamp has ruined my shoes, and I am owed compensation!: I think government officials have better things to do than worry about your twenty cent shoes, Sparrowson. : We'll just see about that.{[Glass shards]} have been added to your evidence folder. : Are you satisfied? We have real evidence to find.  : It’s a list. “Forty Muskets... twenty pistols... gunpowder... three thousand musket balls...To be delivered to the Sleeping City." This is an invoice. I don’t see any names on here, but given the contents and quantities, the goods are probably intended for the rebels. Excellent find, Sparrowson.: It was nothing.: But “the Sleeping City”? Where could that be?: Well, it’s a city that sleeps a lot. So somewhere in Spain would be my guess.: I’m pretty sure that the location is not a literal city. For one thing, we already know the city where the rebels are gathering - it's right here, in Paris. ‘The Sleeping City” is a code phrase. Like a riddle.: A riddle, hmm?: Hmm.: Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.: Well, I'm stumped. And "hmm"ing is getting us nowhere. We must find someone who can solve it. We need a person who is knowledgeable about all manner of riddles and puzzles.: A know-it-all, huh?: Precisely. In the meantime, I'll file this away for safe keeping.{[CrocrMonsieur’s invoice]} has been added to your evidence folder. : Do you think the croc dropped anything else?: I think we’re done here.: Okay. I guess we can always come back if we think we've forgotten something.: Time to... : Time to investigate this.  Prelude ('Libera Me, Domine' from Gabriel Fauré's Requiem.)  : Don’t call me that.: Ah, my apologies, madame. But what are your thoughts? Is the room suitable?: It's dark, cramped, and more than a little macabre. But it will do.: Excellent. I have hired private security to guard the entrance twenty-four hours a day. Rest assured, your weapons are safe.: ... Tell me, friar, are we doing the right thing?: Of course we are, madame. There cannot be change without bloodshed. No revolution without revolution. Surely you aren't having second thoughts.: Of course not. I want nothing more than to serve justice to the corrupted rulers of this country. When the time comes...
Xander77 fucked around with this message at 18:40 on Jun 23, 2018 |
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Oct 7, 2017 16:14
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Oh, is this the Insult Sword Fighting that people keep talking about? I learned how to do this  I'm rubber and you're glue your words bounce off me and stick to you.
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Oct 7, 2017 16:33
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A witty saying proves nothing.
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Oct 7, 2017 17:09
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A witty saying proves nothing
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Oct 7, 2017 17:51
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I don't agree with what you say but I'll defend to the death your right to get owned in a court of law. I think that's how the quote goes, right?
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Oct 7, 2017 19:15
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Yeah, let's quote Voltaire at this rear end in a top hat. A witty saying proves nothing.
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Oct 7, 2017 19:39
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  : Of course. All librarians like riddles.: Seems like a bit of a stereotype, that's all I'm saying.: Stereotype or not, we have to hope that it's true. That boffin is our best chance at getting to the bottom of this. : Time to put our polite faces on. He's here now. : ~Sigh~ Good day, Dromio and Dromio.Carnival of the Animals - People with long ears : Why, good day, monsieur. It's a pleasure to see you again on this fine day. Tell me, kind monsieur, do you like riddles?  : Er..: You. It’s you, messieurs, you. You come in here, yammering and yelling, never stopping to close your beaks for one minute.: Oh! Haha! Very good, monsieur.: (Laugh, Sparrowson. We need to get into his good books.) : (W-what was that?): (Sorry. I can't fake-laugh.): (Oh mon Dieu...): Stop this farce. You messieurs obviously have some inane riddle that you want solving, so let's hear it. Go on, spit it out.: Oh, right. Well, uh... If we were to say that there is a place called “the Sleeping City” in Paris, where would it be?: That's a new one... : R-really?: Of course. The riddle was trivially easy. There are plenty of locations that could be called a “Sleeping City”, but only one place earns that title in Paris.: Oh? And where would that be?: We know the answer, of course. Obviously. We're just fact-checking to make sure that you got it right.: Think it through, messieurs. What kind of city is only inhabited by those who sleep all day and all night?: Uh... : I got it! Spain!: Don't be daft, Sparrowson. Spain isn't a city. But perhaps the monsieur is referring to the capital of Spain, Madrid. Nice, sleepy, place.: Spain? Madrid?! You two are remarkably dense, aren't you? “Sleep” is a metaphor. Actually, its one of the oldest and most powerful metaphors in the history of literature. It symbolizes death itself. “The Sleeping City” obviously refers to a city of the dead. A necropolis.  : Of course! The catacombs. The winding tunnels of the dead that lie beneath our very feet.: Very good, monsieur. That's the first semi-intelligent thing you have managed to say all day. ...You have more questions, don't you?: Oh yes. : Can you give us a brief run-down on the history of the catacombs?: ~Sigh~ The cemeteries of Paris were overflowing by the end of the last century. It was a mess, from what I hear. To create space, King Louis XVI ordered for old skeletons to be excavated and put into the unused mine tunnels that lie under the city. So, with a little renovation and many years of hard work, the mines were successfully turned into a subterranean mausoleum.: So, what, its basically a grave for a few thousand skeletons?: Millions, more like. Don't underestimate the size of the tunnels, messieurs.: I know that the bourgeois like to tour the catacombs, don't they?: Correct. It was quite the bourgeois tourist hotspot some twenty years ago. But if you were hoping to pay a visit, you are too late. The Church had all the entrances sealed shut fairly recently.: Why would the Church do that?: Believe it or not, they considered the turning of a mausoleum into a tourist attraction to be in poor taste.: Oh, right.: They shut down all the entrances? Really? Surely there must be one or two left untouched: If there is such an entrance, it is not public knowledge.: I see. : I think we're done here for now. Thank you for your time, monsieur.: Good day.: If the Sleeping City really is the Paris catacombs, then there must be some way to get in...: Hmm... An underground tunnel network would probably be connected to the city sewers, right? : That's a good idea. Or maybe it connects to the Seine? Perhaps some swimming is in order...: If you really wish to visit the catacombs, you would be best off asking those responsible for the closures.: The... dead... people?: ~Sigh~ The Church, monsieur. The Church would know if any unsealed entrances still exist.: Oh. Right.    Wolves  : But the good word must be spread, my brother! We need as many supporters as possible. No more sulking in the shadows. No more cowering in the dark. We must rise up against our oppressors! : Again? Tsk. What happened to yours?: I lost it.: So careless.: Don't sweat the petty things, brother. Let’s focus on removing the obstacles that stand in the way of our fathers dream.: Right. Like the annoying little bird who's been poking his beak into our business. He is dangerously close to uncovering our secret.: You want me to take care of him?: It would be in our interests. I have a trap in mind, but... : Go hide. : Actually, friar, were here for information. We want to learn about the catacombs that lie under Paris.: The catacombs? You don't want to go there, my brother. It's a wretched and haunted place. : I'm sure it is. But we know that the church was responsible for having the entrances sealed shut.: So we figured that maybe there"s a super-secret friar-only entrance that only you know about.: A secret entrance? That's an interesting idea... You know... you are not the first birds to have asked about that. : We aren't?: Yes, yes... a cockerel paid a visit yesterday.: Perfect posture and snooty or one-eyed and scowling?: The first. A prosecutor, I think he said he was. Anyway, I'll tell you the same thing I told him. : Understood? : Not really. You didn't tell us how to get into the catacombs at all. : Nor will I tell you, my brother. Take the hint. You have no business there. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a sermon to prepare. Be on your way.: drat. Another dead end. : Don't quit just yet. I managed to take something from the friar’s pocket when he gave his little warning.: Seriously? Again? This is becoming something of a bad habit for you. Well, go on then. Let’s see what you pilfered. : You found this pen? In the friar’s robes?: Yup.: Interesting. Actually, this is more than interesting. This is amazing. This is the exact same pen that Judge Romulus uses. It even contains the same green ink.: Huh. Do you think its exactly the same pen, or do you think Romulus and Remus just have a matching set?: I honestly don’t know. But I do know that this may come in handy. I’m going to keep hold of it.{[Fountain pen]} has been added to your evidence folder. : We're still at a dead end, though. My gut tells me that the friar is hiding something, but I can't get him to cough up.: Its not like we can beat information out of him. Lets just go do other stuff, and maybe we’ll stumble across some more clues.: Maybe you’re right. Let's go.   : Peddle ya pyramid scheme to someone else, bud. I’ve got a kid to feed. : Madame, it's not a pyramid scheme! Madame? Take a leaflet, at least!  : Heh. A cult, is it? Not today, monsieur. I've already been in my fare (sic) share of cults. : A member of the Cult of Reason, huh. Strange. I thought that cult died out way back in the old Revolution.: Hey, Falcon. That person...: He looks like a run-of-the-mill cultist.: I can see that. But doesn't his face look familiar to you? : He does look familiar. Actually, the resemblance is uncanny. Shall we get his attention?: Uh-oh. He’s spotted us. ...: ...: ...  : Wait, monsieur! We would like a quick word!: Come back! Teach us about the wonders of the Cult of Reason!: He's gone. : So, I'm not going crazy, right? That guy was the splitting image of Judge Romulus, wasn't he?: I can't deny the similarity. Then again, there are plenty of wolves in Paris. Maybe there's no link at all. Either way, we have an investigation to conduct. Let's focus on that.: Right. Where to first?  : I still don't see anybody around to interview.: Yeah. I cant imagine this room being of any use to us. Unless we need any priceless Roman vases, of course.   : (Oh dear, oh dear, it's these guys again. Keep it together, Eric. Maybe they won't recognize you...): Excuse me, monsieur! It’s us! The philistines! Remember?: (Were they talking to me?) : (Yup. Definitely talking to me. Okay, deep breaths, Eric.): Hi!: We have a couple of questions, if it's no trouble.: Oh, it's no trouble. No trouble at all. : Do you know anything about an uprising?: An uprising?: You know. People getting angry. Being violent. Overthrowing the government. Stuff like that.: Goodness. No, I don't know anything about that sort of thing.: Never mind then. Did you see the cultist outside? : Uhh... yeah... he accosted me a few days ago. We chatted for a while. Not by choice, of course. But because I didn't know how to get out of the conversation. It got a little out of hand. He insisted that I take a pamphlet. : And he even added his own signature. See? At the bottom there?: "To my new bestest bud, Eric. Happy reading! Best wishes, Silvius.”: Green ink too. What a fiendish color choice.: That guy was such a slime-ball. We aren't even close to bestest buddies!: At least we now know the cultist’s name - Silvius. Do you mind if we keep this pamphlet, monsieur?: Be my guest. I don't want it.{[Signed Cult Guide]} has been added to your evidence folder. : Did you want something else? : It's no trouble. No trouble at all. : Hey, Falcon, isn't that our old friend~ Goofy  : You promised to get my photographs put up in the Louvre! What happened with that? Where are my photographs? Huh? Huh?: Uh, well...: We've been a little distracted...: We had this messy case...: And now we’re investigating stuff...: But I guess we can fit in some time...: Oh mon Dieu. Forget it. I’ve only got another week to go, and then I’m done with this dumb job. So, what do you want? I haven't found any interesting bits of paper today, if that's what you were hoping for.: Actually, we just wanted to ask a couple of questions, it you have a moment. : I have a moment. Just the one, mind. : Monsieur Robinio, do you know about an uprising?: You mean, like, a rebellion? Yeah, I've heard rumors. There are a lot of uneasy people in Paris.: What kind of rumors?: Nothing specific. Just that there’s a group planning to form a huge protest before the end of February. Some say it might go violent. If you were wise, you would probably fly out of the city as soon as possible.: So people say. Do you plan on leaving?: I couldn't if I wanted to... no thanks to you guys. But in any case, I'm sticking around for the photograph opportunities. War time photography - imagine the possibilities! : Sounds like a good way to get hit by a stray bullet.: I guess. But all that danger just means that it'll pay really well. I’ve thought this plan through!: Evidently. : Anyway, did you want something else? : Did you see that cultist in the Place du Carrousel?: Yep. He's been hanging around all week. Today he tried to hand me a leaflet, so I told him where to put it.: And where would that be?: What?: Where did you tell him to put the leaflet? Oh! Oh. I see. Never mind.: Monsieur Robinio, what do you know about that guy? What's his story?: His story? How should I know? He's just a cultist loser. The Louvre attracts those types of crazies all the time.: I see. : Did you two want something else?: That's all. We'll let you get back to work, monsieur.: Are we all done here? : Yep. Let's make a move.: Good call. We can always come back later, if we've forgotten something.   Murder!     Aviary Office : Let's not dawdle, Sparrowson. Wer'e nearly there.: Alright. Let me just deal with this letter first.: Spam?: I don't think so. It's.. : Séverin? Well go ahead, Sparrowson. Let's hear it.: Jayjay. If this letter reaches you uninterrupted, then it means that I have been captured or killed by the rebels.: ... What?: Last evening, the Inspector gave me a tip-off of a midnight trade between the rebels and the Croc-Monsieur on Rue des Marmousets. I intend to watch from the shadows, but I know that such a mission is a dangerous one. Wish me luck. : If this is the last correspondence you’ll ever hear from me, then I suppose I should end on a positive note. Falcon: you are a good friend and an excellent lawyer. I’m sorry for belittling you all these years. Kind regards, Séverin Cocorico.: ...: ...: ......:Is... is this for real? There's no way. This letter has to be some sort of setup.: It’s Séverin's handwriting.: Where do you think he is?: I don't know.: Why would he go alone?: I don't know.: But we have to go help him, right? I mean, if that trade was at midnight last night, and it's ten o'clock now... he might still be okay!: Maybe. I don't know.: Come on, Falcon. Pull yourself together! We've got to act fast while there’s still time on the clock!: ... You're right.Trial Turnabout 2  : R-really? Are you serious?: Absolutely. I know we can do it. With all the investigating we've done over the last couple of weeks, I think we know the rebels better than they know themselves. We can find them. We can outwit them. And we can bring Séverin home alive.: Wow! You're bursting with confidence! But where are we going?: Was Séverin's letter not clear? He was investigating the Rue des Marmousets, so that's where we should start.: Yeah. Yeah! Let's go! : Come on, Sparrowson. Keep up.: ~Wheeze~ : Right. : “No loitering.” I guess we should move on.: Be serious, Falcon. : "Besson's Stationary. Come along for all your writing needs. Whether you need paper, ink, stamps-": What are you doing? Stop procrastinating, Falcon. Cocorico's life is at stake. : There's a pool of blood here. It looks fresh.: Cocorico's?: ... I see drag marks heading towards that tunnel, which leads straight to the Seine. If I had to guess, someone was killed here last night, and their body was hastily disposed of in the river.: ...: But I see several sets of bloodied footprints too. Some are faint, but...: They head that way, towards the main road.: So he could still be alive?: ... Let's see where the footprints go.   : It seems that way.: Unbelievable...: Where’s a friar when you need one?: Forget the friar. Let’s keep following the blood trail and see where it ends up.: Wait a minute, Falcon. Shouldn't we get the police involved before we go any further? : You remember what Séverin wrote in his letter. The Inspector was the one who gave him the tip-off.: Huh? What are you saying? That you think the police are in on this?: At this point, anything’s possible. We have to stay focused on the trail...  : Man... I'm famished.  : Hey, isn't that the Conciergerie jail keeper... Quack?: It's Kwark, ya dummies.: I had no idea that you were a religious man, monsieur.: I'm not. I had a career change. Private security pays much better than regular ol’ jail keeping, ya know.: Monsieur. We don't have much time, so I'll keep it brief. We're following a trail that leads to the door behind you. We need you to let us pass.: The door behind me? : Ha! Ya idiots! That door leads straight to the catacombs. Ya don't want to go there.: Catacombs...: And besides, just because I know how to get in, doesn't mean I'm just going to let ya pass. : ...You want a bribe, don’t you?: Bingo. What ya got? : Here. For your troubles.: Ten francs? What, are ya trying to insult me?  : Monsieur. Perhaps I wasn’t clear. I am short on both time and patience. Are you going to tell us pass, or do I have to beat you until you are unable to stop us?: Jeez! No need to get violent, big guy! You can pass. The door’s right behind me. Go on.: That's the door to the catacombs? It's that simple?: Yeah. It's that simple. What, were ya expecting a hidden bookcase or something? Go on. Go look. : I wonder... will they get lost and starve, or will they find the crazy lion girl and get shot? Either way, ain't my problem. Catacombs  : Here...here goes nothing?They begin the descent. : ... : ...: I knew an underground passage would be dark, but this is ridiculous. I cant even see my hand in front of my face.: Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, Sparrowson.: ...: ...: ...: Ah, I think that was the last step. Now it's just twisted tunnels ahead of us. : Plus, you know, all the health benefits. And I would probably be calmer.: Keep it together, Sparrowson.: I know. I'll unravel this loose thread from my jacket. We can just trace the string to find our way back, if we reach a dead-end.: Ah, good thinking. Just like Theseus and the Minotaur.: Wait... there aren’t any Minotaurs in here, are there? Head of a bull... body of a bull... scary stuff.: That's not... actually, never mind. : It feels like there’s a gap in the wall here. I guess the path branches. I can feel a slight breeze coming from the passage to the left... The air seems a little more stagnant to the right... : There's a chance that the breeze could be caused by an opening. Let’s head that way.: Hey, Falcon. I don't want to dump on you or anything, but... When you threatened Kwark back there... that was pretty scary. : No, I wasn’t scared of Kwark. You. I found you scary. I’ve never seen you get so angry before.: Séverin's life is on the line, Sparrowson. Forgive me for showing a little emotion.: Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.: ...: ...: Oh, it looks like the path branches again.: Are my eyes going funky from the darkness, or is there a glimmer of light coming from the right path?: No, I see it too. There’s definitely some light on that side. : It's definitely getting lighter. I can see my hands again.Ghouls  : Hush. Listen.: Voices?: Voices. We're getting close. : ... Terrified. : There they are.  Catacombs  : Are you with the police? The royal guards? Speak, bird.  : ...: Ma'am Beaumort, we've been here all night, and he simply ain’t talkin’. : Justice. Heh. That word...: Oh, the rooster finally crows?: You want to know who I am? Fine. My name is Séverin Cocorico. I am a public prosecutor for the Cour d'Assises.: ...: Well Sevy, it's been a pleasure, but we can’t be 'avin’ spies runnin' around our base of operations now, can we? So without further ado, I ’ereby sentence you to-: Wait a minute, Pietro. This is no ordinary spy.: Cos he’s a prosecutor? : Woah! Are you sure?: I had my suspicions when I saw his smug air of arrogance. His holier-than-thou glare. But now that I know his name and occupation, there is no doubt.: ...: Do you remember, bird? Do you remember the trial of a homeless lion in the Winter of 1835?: What was your father's name?: Jean. Jean Beaumort. : What were his crimes?: His only crime was trying to feed a starving child. : But he was seen by a policeman. Another arrogant cockerel like yourself, actually. So my father was thrown in jail. He was dragged to court. I had the privilege of watching the proceedings from the stands. I remember your sharp words. : You didn't care about the consequences. You didn’t care about why my father did what he did. All you cared about was fulfilling your lust to see a criminal behind bars.: ...: My father received a sentence of five years. He died on his third.: ...: Do you remember him?: Mademoiselle. In all my days as a prosecutor, I have seen over thousands of cases. : You rotten connard! We’re all just insects to you, aren't we? Who cares if a child starves on the streets, as long as you put enough criminals behind bars to meet your quota. Am I right?: ... : Your silence speaks volumes of your guilt. Séverin Cocorico, you have been tried by the people of the Second Republic. We have found you guilty on the counts of conspiracy, of the murder of the Croc-Monsieur, and of the murder of my father, Jean Beaumort. : Oh, I have been found guilty? Mademoiselle, if you want to shoot me so you can fulfill your revenge fantasies, then by all means, shoot me. : A court of justice? Now there's a contradiction. Bird, you know nothing of justice. : With pleasure, madame.:...: Falcon, we have to make a move! Say something!
Xander77 fucked around with this message at 19:04 on Jun 23, 2018 |
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Oct 7, 2017 20:11
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...both? But let's go with impressive.
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Oct 7, 2017 20:12
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I'm guessing this guy's original name was "Miles Cockworth" but the devs thought that would be too on the nose.  Anyway that was pretty impressive. AceOfFlames fucked around with this message at 20:26 on Oct 7, 2017 |
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Oct 7, 2017 20:23
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Both, but since we can only pick one, impressive
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Oct 7, 2017 20:36
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Good job Sparrowson.
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Oct 7, 2017 22:24
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Impressive
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Oct 7, 2017 22:59
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Impressive. He just... 'dropped' it.
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Oct 7, 2017 23:15
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The only hope against a genius is a scoundrel. Well played, Sparrowson.
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Oct 8, 2017 00:53
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 : Alright. I’m going in.: I’m coming too.: No. I need you to get out of here. Go find the police. Royal guard. Anyone. I'll stall for time. : O-okay. I’ll go get help.: Do you have any last words. (sic for lack of question mark)   : He's right. This is a terrible trial. There's no evidence. No defense. No examination of the facts. You’ve dragged a man off the streets and decided his fate based purely on your own prejudices and whims.: Who the cluck does this bird brain think he is?: I am this man's defense attorney. I am Jayjay Falcon.: Jayjay... What are you doing?: Defense attorney? You’re a ravin' looney is what you are!  : Everyone, please, hear me out. : Monsieur Fontaine, we've only met on a couple of occasions, but you seem like an intelligent and reasonable person.: Why, thank you. I do consider myself to be reasonable.: Then surely you can see something wrong with dragging someone off the streets and executing them without trial?: Well... I want to see a better France, monsieur. A France with actual liberty for all. I don't enjoy violence, but I have no qualms with a traitor or two dying to achieve that noble goal. Means to an end, you know. : For the good of France, and in the name of justice, he must be killed.: Justice... there's that word again...: Madame, I won't presume to know who you are or what you stand for. But shooting this man right now would not bring you justice. It would only serve to satisfy your desire for revenge.: Justice... revenge... what's the difference? : Rationality, madame. Justice is carried out on the basis of hard facts and logic. It isn't distracted by petty emotions.: Even putting aside my emotions, I can see this bird's guilt.: Then this is your opportunity to prove it, madame. Show that you're a leader who acts with reason, not brute irrationality. : ... : ... Fine, Falcon. We'll play this your way. We shall have a formal trial for the murder of the Croc-monsieur.: Excellent. Shall we head back to my office and file the necessary papers?: Don't take me for a fool. You'll walk us right into a trap. We shall have the trial right here and now.: Right here? In the catacombs?: It's as good a place as any. I suppose we'll be needing a judge... : No thanks, Pierro. We’re trying to form a courtroom, not a circus.: Aww.: Just... go see how the security is doing, Pierro. We don't want any more spies wandering in. : Perhaps I can help, madame. You know that I’m a pious man, after all.: Okay, Remus. You can be our judge. And I will lead the prosecution.: What about the jury? With due respect, I don't trust your peers to be impartial.: Look around you. As we speak, we are being watched and judged by countless dead men and women. They shall be our jury.: That may work as a metaphor, but in practical terms- : After all, I am the one who holds the gun.Catacombs (listen to this) : Well, it looks like we are ready to get started. Ahem. The trial of Séverin Cocorico is underway. He stands accused of the murder of the man known as the Croc-monsieur in cold blood. Madame Beaumort, please explain the details of what happened.: Very well. Last night, at the stroke of midnight, two gunshots were heard on the Rue des Marmousets. Pierro alerted us, and we managed to arrive before the police did. On the scene, I saw the man known as the Croc-Monsieur, a good friend of ours, lying in a pool of his own blood. Standing over the body, I saw the murderer, Séverin Cocorico, still clutching his murder weapon.: Am I to understand that you did not witness the crime first-hand, madame? That you only saw the aftermath?: Yes. But one of us did happen to see the incident itself... : I am no pigeon, monsieur!: He's a spy in any case. What say I execute ’im right now? : He’s my assistant. He carries my bags and stuff.: Falcon, I trust that you do not have any other assistants lurking around the corner.: No, madame.: Then take your lackey out of my sight.  : (What is it?): (I saw someone lurking in the catacombs. I think he was watching us from the shadows.): (Another rebel?): (I don’t know.) : What's this? A political pamphlet?{[Cult Pamphlet]} has been added to your evidence folder. : Well, I best be getting back to the patrols then.: Not so fast, Pierro. You witnessed the crime first-hand, did you not?: I did, Ma'am!: Then you can be our first witness. Go stand in the center.: Okie dokie. : That won't be necessary. We trust you.: Just tell us what you saw last night, Pierro.: Okie dokie. I saw it as plain as day. The Croc-Monsieur was just mindin’ his own business on Rue des Marmousets. When all of a sudden, this ‘ere brute of a rooster appeared with his gun in hand. BAM! The rooster fired. The croc slumped to the floor. Using the last of his strength, the Croc-Monsieur drew his own gun. BAM! The croc fired back.: So, to clarify: Cocorico shot first?: Yes, Ma’am. No question there.: What happened next?: Well, I knew you guys - Fontaine, Remus, and you, Madam - were only a stone’s throw away, at the cathedral, so I ran to get your help. We all arrived back on the scene maybe a minute after I ‘ad left it. : ‘s nothin’, ma'am. : You see, Falcon? Pierro is not the sharpest knife in the kitchen...: True, that. : ...But he is honest to a fault. I would trust his word with my own life.: I don't doubt the man's honesty, madame. Nonetheless, I would like to cross-examine the witness.: Cross-examine... what does that mean?: I don't claim to be an expert of the law. That was always my brother’s role in the family. : Actually, it means that I would like to make sure that Pierro's story holds up under scrutiny. Yes, I will be asking questions. But only questions that directly relate to the case at hand.: Clearly a pointless stalling tactic, madame. Shall we put an end to the trial?: ... No. We will let the bird have his little cross-examination. But I'm warning you, Falcon: don't mess with me.: Don't mess with you?: If I get the slightest inkling that you are rambling to stall for time, I will end this trial on the spot. : Yeah. I get it.Cross-Examination  : You claim that you saw the incident as “plain as day”?: Yup. Plain as day.: How’s your eyesight?: S’alright. My peepers work just fine.: That doesn't sound particularly convincing.: I went hunting with Pierre once. He had no problem spotting boar at eighty meters. Quite often he would spot game even before I did.: See! My eyes are fine. : We came back empty handed.: Me and my big mouth... : Now, Pierro, you say that this incident took place on Rue des Marmousets. I don't doubt that you were there. But where, exactly, were you standing?: Well, let's see... I came from across the river... and then turned on to the Rue Saint-Landry... So, yeah, I was standing abouts where Rue des Marmousets meets the Rue Saint-Landry. The crossroads.: That's a pretty ordinary street, from what I remember. It's around a minute's walk from Notre-Dame Cathedral, if I recall correctly.: Hmm. : What were you doing there?: Just passin’ through.: Okay, but where were you headed? For example, did you have business at the Conciergerie? Or were you heading home from the cathedral?: To be honest, monsieur, I don't think that's none of your business. : Pierro, you say that Monsieur Cocorico fired first.: Yup. The bird's expression was stone cold.: Did it look like Séverin Cocorico was feeling threatened prior to the shooting?: Threatened how?: Well, did the Croc-Monsieur have his gun drawn?: I don't think so. The croc drew his gun, but that was only after gettin' shot.: I see what you're trying to argue, Falcon. You think that this may have been a self-defense killing. It’s a fruitless line of reasoning. The cockerel approached the crocodile. He is the one responsible for the encounter.: Still... : You'll have to focus on the facts of the case. Find an inconsistency and prove them wrong!: You’re right. Let's try a different strategy. With respect, Pierro, I don't believe you. Séverin Cocorico is not the type of person to shoot a man in cold blood. It’s not in his nature.: His nature? His nature?! I've seen this bird's true nature, Falcon. He pretends to be virtuous, but inside he is a twisted, murderous piece of filth.: ...: Do you seriously want to stand there and lecture me about what a good person this man is? : You say that the Croc-Monsieur drew his gun and fired back with the last of his strength.: Yup. BAM!: So you claim that Cocorico fired his gun, and then the Croc-Monsieur fired back. But is it possible that there was a third gunshot?: I wasn't countin' or nothin', but nah, I think I would have heard a third gunshot, if there was one.: I see. But what if-: Don't try to claim that there was a hidden sniper upon a rooftop or any similar drivel, Falcon. None of us have the patience for that sort of yarn-spinning. : Did the bullets hit Cocorico?: No. He was uninjured at the time of capture.: Well, he looks pretty injured right now...: He took quite a beating. What of it? : Sic for "despicible". : Pierro, I would like to remind you that this crime occurred around midnight. In February. On an overcast, moonless night. In an unlit alley.: What’s your point? : It would have been dark. So dark, that you could not possibly have correctly identified the people involved!: Hey! I swear I saw what I saw!: Hold on, Falcon. You slipped up. You say that the alley was unlit, but I distinctly recall there being lanterns over Rue des Marmousets.: Oh! That's right, that's right! : You're right, Madame Beaumort. There are street lanterns over Rue des Marmousets. But they wouldn't have been any good. Catacombs : The street lamps over Rue des Marmousets were broken! They are completely non-functional. As proof, I present the glass shards that line the alleyway. These shards originate from the panes of the broken lamps. : Those glass shards could have come from anywhere.: You could send one of your underlings to see the broken lamps for themselves, if you want.: And waste more time? I think not. This sounds like a stalling tactic.: Excuse me, Madame Beaumort. I don't remember whether the street lamps were or were not broken, but I do remember that we had to use a torch to light up the scene. : I’m just saying, Falcon might be right. It was particularly dark, so it's possible that there weren't any lit street lamps.: Are you sayin’ I’m a liar? I thought we were buddies!: Stop quibbling, both of you. Maybe the lamps were broken. Maybe they weren't. It doesn't matter. I know that Pierro's testimony is accurate because I, personally, saw the rooster at the crime scene one minute after Pierro did.: One minute! That’s plenty of time for the real murderer to escape and for a passerby to stumble upon the scene, is it not?: ...: You must acknowledge that it is a possibility.: I acknowledge nothing.: There is an inkling of doubt. You know that there is the slight notion that Pierro may be misremembering what he saw. : : Onto the next witness! Madame Beaumort, do you have anyone in mind?: I do. There is someone among us who is something of a gun connoisseur. A man who knows everything there is to know about the craft of weaponry.: Oh, that's me again!: Shut up, Pierro. Get off the stand. : I call Fontaine forward.
Xander77 fucked around with this message at 19:26 on Jun 23, 2018 |
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Oct 8, 2017 19:00
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Xander77 posted:
If only... Also, directly criticising the monarch in the 19th century seems like a splendid idea. I don't care for it. AceOfFlames fucked around with this message at 19:12 on Oct 8, 2017 |
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Oct 8, 2017 19:10
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We can try to sound smart, too, Sparrowson! It's subtle and nuanced.
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Oct 8, 2017 19:17
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It's, uh... It's a painting. Of the king. That's about all I got. It's probably full of nuance?
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Oct 8, 2017 19:53
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It's subtle and nuanced, but in a sarcastic tone of voice.
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Oct 8, 2017 20:07
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I don't care for it. I do, however, care for Cocorico's theme. Been playing this with my sister and her favorite parts are when he and his theme song show up.
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Oct 8, 2017 20:16
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Original portrait of the king, by Franz Xaver Winterhalter:
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Oct 8, 2017 20:30
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The original painting's background is definitely subtle and nuanced. Them thunderheads. So let's go with that.
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Oct 8, 2017 22:15
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There's also this little masterpiece. It's literally Sparrowson as a detective.
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Oct 9, 2017 03:04
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Eh, may as well put the update on a new page.
Xander77 fucked around with this message at 13:03 on Oct 9, 2017 |
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Oct 9, 2017 12:58
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