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Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Aviary Attorney is basically Ace Attorney with anthropomorphic birds based on the art of J. J. Grandville. In February Revolution France. Oh, and with the ability to gently caress things up to your hearts content, yet go on with the game. It's pretty amazing, and I hope we'll have a bit of fun bumbling our way through lawyer shenaninaninanigans.

Oh yeah, and thanks to ProfessorProf, for the previous attempt at LPing this, which I'm stealing wholesale.

Act 1

Our First Client
The Baron
First Investigation
First Trial - The Inspector
First Trial - The Artist
Trial Turnabout

Act 2

A new client
Prince Juan
The Louvre
Trial Preparations
First Day of Juan's Trial part 1
First Day of Juan's Trial part 2
The Chocolate Fiend
Second Day of Juan's Trial
Second Trial Ending

Act 3

Task List
Strange Device
The Rebels
Finally a Murder
Trial in the Catacombs
A Happy Ending?

Act 4B

Character Witnesses
Trial Fit For A

Act 4C

Rebel Alliance
Enemy Mine

Act 4A

The Worst Lawyer
Playing for the Other Side
The Prosecution
Some Birds...

Cast and OST

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 10:48 on Jun 25, 2018


Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.


Xander77 fucked around with this message at 10:05 on Jun 25, 2018

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Introduction (AFAIK, all the music in this update was composed specifically for the game)

: Our heroes rush off as the curtain draws. I'm not making gifs for this LP, but their comical puppet-hopping almost tempted me.


: Like every AA game, we start the story with a murder most foul. Not murder of A fowl though. Foul fowl might be involved though (and that's the level of wordplay, you may as well get used it it)

Aviary Office

: It's midday already. Where on Earth is that feather-head...

: Phoenix Falcon stumbles in, just on cue.

: Ugh. Too early for worms. Pass the Cabernet Sauvignon.

: There'll be time for that later. We've got business to handle first.

: Business?

: It's probably just more junk mail. Go ahead, Sparrowson, you may have the honors.

: Alright. ~Ahem~ "Dear Monsieur Falcon, I am writing to you today because my daughter, Dame Caterline, has been arrested for a crime she did not commit. She is being heled at la Conciergerie prison on the charge of murder, no less. Her trial is in three days' time. I would be greatly in your debt if you would offer her your legal aid. Yours sincerely, Seigneur Purrtoir Demiaou of the Demiaou estate."

: Well this is quite something...

: I know! Your first serious client in months!

: Not just that. The Demiaou estate is well known for its exuberant wealth. Even if we cannot do much for Dame Caterline, his Lordship would still reward us handsomely for our efforts.

: Wow! So I suppose you intend on defending Dame Caterline in court?

: Per tradition, we must always name our protagonist Dongs refuse the call to adventure.

:I think not, Sparrowson. The fate of a fatcat bourgeois is none of my concern. Pass the Cabernet Sauvignon already.

: I thought about keeping a running tab of terrible puns, but then I decided not to.

: What?! With all respect, Falcon, we've been doing nothing for the past two weeks. Anything would be better than another day of thumb-twiddling.

: Still...

: We'll keep going until we encounter a non-standard gameover or bust.

: No. I’ve made up my mind.

: Okay. Fine. Can we at least play some cards to pass the time?

: Now there's a marvelous idea. But what game? We don't really have enough players for Tapp-Tarock or Cego...

: I know! There's this game I learned at university called “Jacques-Noir”.

: Three guesses as to what game we're talking about and as to what it's actually called in French.

: Jacques-Noir? That sounds dubious...

:No, no, it’s a real game! Let me tell you how it works.

: I think we all know how videogame blackjack works. I guess it's mostly there to show off Grandville's art that the developers couldn't fit into the game proper. I replayed the tutorial a dozen or so times, because the AI always cheats like a motherfucker - except when I'm trying to record for the LP. In any case:

: What do you think? Are you getting the jist of it?

: Yeah, I think I've got a handle on it.

: Alright! Now we can make this interesting. How do you feel about a little wager?

: Sounds good. What did you have in mind? One franc per round? Two?

: No, no. I was thinking of something else...

: I'm intrigued. Go on.

: We play one round. If I win, you have to take on Dame Caterlinés case.

: That sounds like quite a hefty wager. What do I get if I win?

: I-if you win? I...

: ...You must go on a diet. No chocolate, pastries, or cakes for one month.

: (Anime sweatdrops) W-why? What could you possibly get out of me going on a diet?

: Absolutely nothing. But it will be immensely satisfying to watch you writhe in hunger as you munch on celery sticks and carrots.

: You're a cruel bird, Falcon. But we have a deal. Pass me the deck.

: The AI cheats like a motherfucker. I mean, we wouldn't have a game otherwise, but the same is true in regular games of "Jacques-Noir" as well.

: Welp, looks like I won. How about that.

: What! No way, you cheated! You didn’t shuffle those cards properly! Let’s go again, two out of three.

: How does that American proverb go, Falcon? Don't hate the player. Hate the game.

: Ugh. This is my punishment for gambling on a made-up card game, isn't it? Fine. We'll take the case.

: Excellent. My derrière was getting tired from all this sitting around. Oh, but I better file away Seigneur Demiaou's letter first. One moment, Falcon.

: Instead of Wright's semi-physical pocket dimension of evidence, we have a... semi-physical pocket dimension filing system. The items within which we can still use as we travel around the gameworld.

: ...Again. I recall you losing it at the New Years' party. And at Christmas...

: Yes, alright. No need to make a list.

: Our funds actually depend on how well we do in our cases, and MATTER for investigation purposes.

: Let's make a move!

: Locations with a clock next to them will take one day to visit, and we CAN waste our time to no avail (if we feel like it)

: Locations that don't have a clock next to them don't take up any time. But they're mostly just short interludes that don't produce any clues.

: I was just procrastinating.

: Well, stop it! We need to get back to helping Dame Caterline.

: Alright, I'm ready. Let's go!

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 09:40 on Apr 19, 2018

Jun 17, 2007

Yam Slacker

Food. Condemn him to diet.

Jul 22, 2007

Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.

Clapping Larry

This game does have something of the Wondermark charm about it. Animals up on their hind legs before it got creepy, and all that.

I say we should turn the tutorial off with a vow of silence.

Mar 20, 2012


Take his money make him feel the pain of the rest of us.

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Sullen-faced guards and visitors linger beneath the medieval archways.

: Aight, might as well actually go visit our client.

Conciergerie Elegy

: Yeah, that sounds about right.

: Ah, the Conciergerie. They say this is the finest prison in the whole of France. The outer walls are impenetrable. The cells are spotless. The guards are well-mannered...

: Good day, Monsieur. I am here to see Dame Caterline Demiaou. I am due to represent her in court.

: Oh, you're her lawyer, huh? Fine, fine. Follow me.


: Well, what are ya waiting for? Keep up.

Caterline's theme (Debussy: Valse Romantique)

: Dame Caterline Demiaou, I presume.

: M'lady is knowledgeable.

: Don't... Don't talk like that, Sparrowson.

: Sorry.

: My papa told me that he would only hire the best lawyers in town.

: I'm flattered.

: ...But they weren't available at such short notice, so he hired the first people in the address directory.

: Oh.

: You see, Falcon? I told you listing under Aviary Attorney would pay off.

: Let's get down to business. Dame Caterline, could you fill us in on some details? Your father's letter was a little brief.

: I can do my best. What is it you wanted to know?

: What exactly happened on the night of the murder?

: Ooh, let me think. It was Friday evening. Me and my papa had arrived at Château Crinière, the home of the great Baron Rorgueil. My papa spent all evening talking with Monsieur Grenwee and the baron about... business stuff.

: Business stuff?

: Well, the three of them own a railway company together. So all through dinner, they were talking about company shares and investments, but I didn't really understand most of it. But after dinner, this man with a camera took our photograph. That was a lot more fun.

: Sorry, man with a what took your what?

: A daguerreotype, man bird. They've been around for a decade at this point.

: A tiny bug sits in a box with a tiny paintbrush, and paints your picture very fast. In ten minutes, poof! You have a perfect picture!

: Wow! Technology is amazing!

: I don't think the Lady's explanation is right, Sparrowson.

: Pshaw. Let me believe.

: Still, the camera sounds like a very special device. I'll make a note of it.

: Please continue, Dame Caterline.

: So after we had the photograph, I went into the gardens to get some air, and that's when I found the body of Monsieur Grenwee. He was all ripped open! A housemaid saw me standing over the froggy Monsieur and called for help, and then the police arrived. Before I could say anything, I ended up here. It was such a blur.

: It must have been terrifying.

: It wasn't so bad. My papa taught me how to be a brave cat. Was there something else you wanted to ask, Monsieur Falcon?

: Dame Caterline, who attended the banquet that evening?

: Well, there was me and my papa. My dearest maman couldn't make it. And there was Baron Rorgueil, who hosted the dinner. And his housemaid... Couline, I think she was called. Of course there was Monsieur Grenwee... well, until, you know, he died. And there was Monsieur Robittio de Robinio, the man with the camera, but he was only there for a little while. I think that was all. Was there anything else you wanted to ask?

: Dame Caterline, did you see anything suspicious that evening?

: Suspicious?

: Like, um, maybe a guy lurking in the shadows, or, uh, a bloodied murder weapon...

: Monsieur Falcon, I do believe you are looking for an easy answer.

: You got me.

: I did not see anything, I am afraid. The evening was very normal. The food was delicious. The conversation was boring. It was all very ordinary until the incident.

: I did?

: Dame Caterline, you said, "the food was delicious"...

: You and your drat stomach.

: Let me see...

: Go on.

: Glorious. Falcon, write this down.

: What? This can't possibly be relevant to the case.

: Write it all down. Please. For me.

: Fine, fine.

: Sparrowson, remind me not to let you talk to clients on an empty stomach.

: Come to think of it, I did find it a little strange that we weren't given any cutlery.

: No cutlery? Even for the steak?

: Nope! You would think that the great baron of Château Crinière would have gorgeous silverware, but there was none to be seen.

: That is a little peculiar.

: Was there anything else you wanted to know, Monsieur Falcon?

: No, I think that will be all.

: So what's the plan now, Falcon?

: The way I see it, we have two tasks. We should head to Château Crinière, and try to see the scene of the murder for ourselves. We should try to track down this supposed "photographer", Monsieur Robittio de Robinio.

: Two days for two tasks? Seems doable.

: But we should head back and get some rest first. We have a lot of work ahead of us.

: Wait, Monsieur Falcon. Before you go... You... do believe my story, don't you?

: Of course, Dame Caterline. It's our duty as lawyers -

: - And as gentlemen -

: - To have faith in your testimony. You can trust us.

: ...Thank you. Thank you both.

: Not particularly.

: Well, it is for me. I'm going to start compiling a Face Book so that I can keep track of who everyone is.

: A what?

: A Face Book! It's a collection of people's names, pictures, and descriptions in one easy-to-carry catalog.

: I think I understand. The name could use a little work, though.

: Way to let "Beakbook" go, bird brain.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 19:05 on Apr 30, 2018

Apr 23, 2014

I would say tell her you believe her and go to the scene of the crime before anyone can interfere with it.

Jul 14, 2011

I'm just exploding with mackerel. This is the aji wo kutta of my discontent.


Our client should at least think that we believe in her innocence. And if we're to successfully defend her, it's imperative that we investigate the scene of the crime first.

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

: We could head directly to the crime scene, but I'm obviously going to waste a bit of time first.

: I am Jayjay Falcon, defense attorney for -

: I know who ya are. I saw ya come by earlier. But visitin' hours are over. Come back next week.

: Do you think you could make an exception for us?

: Visitin' hours are over.

: We'll be quick.

: I said. Visitin'. Hours. Are over. D'ya bird-brains understand? Parlez-vous Français?

: I don't think he's going to make an exception, Falcon.

: You're right. Let's continue our investigation.

: Heading back to the office gives us the exact same message as last time, but here's a closeup of the office area:

: You only get the closeup very briefly before you enter the location. Apparently each was chose in accordance to proper Paris geography - people who lived there or visit may comment on how appropriate / inappropriate each is. In any case, time to actually move the plot forward:

People with dirty clothes and gaunt faces linger around the building's shadows.

Kangaroos (Camille Saint-Saëns - The Carnival Of Animals )

: I don't suppose you'd happen to have some spare change?

: Here you go. Stay safe, madame.

: Many thanks to ya, messieurs!

: That was pretty generous of you, Falcon.

: Times are tough. Making sure a mother and child have something to eat is the least I can do. But what am I doing, standing here moralizing? Come on Sparrowson, we've got business to attend to.

: Woah, look at this place! Baron Rorgueil must be loaded!

: More than loaded. When it comes to lucrative investments, the Baron is a legend. Factories, chocolate shops, hotels, railroads... the Baron owns a little bit of everything this side of the Seine.

: Is he here right now?

: Yes. He's the smug-looking chap with the impressive mane. But we must approach a man of his stature with tact and finesse...

: How's that?

: Sparrowson, you have the finesse of an inebriated warthog.

: You can thank me later. I think I got his attention.

Baron (Carnival of Animals - March of the Lions)

: And who might you fellows be? More investigators?

: Not quite. I am private attorney Jayjay Falcon, and this is my associate, Sparrowson.

: Lawyers, eh? You know, you aren't the first to have passed through here today.

: Oh?

: Yes, yes. This jumpy, twitchy fellow came by this morning. Asked a bunch of questions, then hopped away before he heard the answers. Most curious.

: Hmm.

: Do you know who he was, Sparrowson?

: Perhaps. I have a hutch - sorry, hunch - we'll be seeing him at the trial.

: A friend of yours?

: Something like that.

: So what may I do for you messieurs?

: We're doing some research on Monseiur Grenwee, the frog who was killed here on Friday evening.

: Of course, of course. Such a tragedy. He was a good friend and a loyal business partner. I suppose you messieurs will be wanting to see the crime scene for yourself?

: Actually, yes, that would be fantastic.

: Well, be my guest. You will find the garden where the murder occurred through the back doors. You may also be interested in the lounge on the second floor, third door to the right. That would be where we gathered for a group photograph, prior to the...

: Unfortunate incident.

: Oh, can we see the finished photograph?

: I am afraid not. It is to my understanding that a photograph must be developed before it can be viewed. It's a slow process. My own copy of the photograph is to be delivered in three day's time.

: That's no good to us. The trial may be over by then.

: Nonetheless, we appreciate your hospitality. Thank you, Baron.

: It's no trouble at all. I'll be here to see you out when you are done with your investigations.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 19:49 on Apr 30, 2018

Apr 23, 2014

We need our money, but we can afford some charity.

Give one franc and pass yourself off as police.

Jul 14, 2011

I'm just exploding with mackerel. This is the aji wo kutta of my discontent.


chitoryu12 posted:

We need our money, but we can afford some charity.

Give one franc and pass yourself off as police.

I'm pitching in with this bloc, since I have no idea.

Apr 23, 2014


I'm pitching in with this bloc, since I have no idea.

I'm not reading any walkthroughs. I'm just going with my gut instinct.

Jul 14, 2011

I'm just exploding with mackerel. This is the aji wo kutta of my discontent.


Does that mean this is the "don't think, feel!" vote?

Jun 14, 2015

slime time

Give one franc, be frank

It's a pity you're not going to do gifs; part of the charm of this game, I've found, is how wonderfully the old lithographs have been animated.

Fortunately there's plenty more to carry it as well.

Davin Valkri
Apr 8, 2011

Maybe you're weighing the moral pros and cons but let me assure you that OH MY GOD

Oh, the inventory system is a series of pigeonholes...

Ten Francs for frankness

Aug 23, 2007

One franc and be lawyers.

Hyper Crab Tank
Feb 10, 2014

The future of crustacean-based warfare

If there's one thing I've learned from detective novels, it's that it pays to give money to filthy peasants/would-be informants. Too bad we're filthy poor too. One franc, and we're lawyers.

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

: So, where shall we go first?

: The garden was the murder scene, so let's head to the lounge first.

Psst. Hey, Falcon. Did you see that?

: See what?

That housemaid totally just did something shifty.

: Shifty?

I think she just pocketed something from that drawer. You should totally call her out on it!

: Excuse me, mademoiselle!

: Y-yes? Are you two policemen?

: No, no. We're private attorneys. My name's Jayjay Falcon.

: And I'm Sparrowson.

: Oh, how rude of me. My name is Couline Duhaut. So, uh, what can I help you messieurs with today?

: We're investigating the murder that took place last week. Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?

: That's fine. Let me just grab a chair.

: We're looking for the room where the photograph was taken prior to the incident. Would you happen to know whether this is the right room?

: Oh, yes, you're in the right place. I saw the photography session for myself. Let's see... the camera man was standing... Just about where you're standing, actually, Monseiur Falcon.

: And where was the camera pointed?

: Right at the clock above the mantelpiece. The Baron insisted on using that very location.

: Now that I'm looking at it, something isn't right about that clock...

: I know! The painting on it totally clashes with the decor!

: I was thinking along more obvious lines.

: Oh, that clock has never had hands in all the years I've worked here. I think Baron Rorgueil just keeps it around as a conversation piece.

: Well, we're conversing about it, so I guess it's working.

: It's a peculiar detail, though. I'll make a note of it.

: Is there something else you wanted to ask?

: You were a little nervous when we came in. You thought we were police officers.

: Is there something we ought to know? Anything you need to confess?

: No, no. I suppose I'm just a little nervous after all the drama of last week.

: Are you sure there isn't anything that you're hiding?

: It's okay to tell us. We're defense attorneys. That means we help people get away with criminal acts.

: Right, and -

: Wait. What? No! That's not an accurate job description, Sparrowson!

: It isn't? Oh. What do we do, then?

: ... I'll tell you later.

: Honestly, messieurs, I have nothing to hide. Was there something else you wanted to ask?

: No further questions. Thank you, mademoiselle, you've been a huge help.

: It's no problem, messieurs.

I know you two saw me... stealing... as you came in. I appreciate that you didn't give me the third degree about it. You see, I'm trying to save up to follow my dreams, and... well, never mind, I'm rambling.

: It's no problem, mademoiselle. To be honest, we have a much larger crime to worry about. Although, I should probably ask: I don't suppose you've been stealing anything else? Silverware, perhaps?

: Ah! You know about that? Yeah, I suppose that was me. It started wouth a couple of teaspoons - I didn't think the baron would miss those. But, uh, well, yeah, I suppose the habit got a little away from me...

: That's one mystery solved, at least.

: I would appreciate it if you didn't tell the baron. He's been really kind, and I would hate to break his trust.

: I see.

: So, where to next, big bird?

: To the garden!

: Hey, Falcon. Do the crime scene investigation thing.

: The crime scene investigation thing?

: Yeah! You know, that thing where you get all eagle-eyed, and analyze every object in excruciating detail.

: You mean search for evidence?

: Yeah! Do that!

: That's not a bad suggestion. It wouldn't be the first time the Parisian police have missed something right under their noses.

: As the OP notes, you can miss things and lose cases and just keep going. But there's no particular reason to miss evidence - there'll be plenty of room to fail during trials.

: The screen is darkened to make it clearer where we're searching. Not sure if I'll keep this up when I screencap in the future.

: A finely-crafted horse statue. The mane almost looks life-like.

: Would you say it be-hooves you to stroke it?

: No. No, I would not.

: Baron Rorgueil certainly likes his horse statues.

: I don't mind the horse statues, but the little cherub people creep me out. Babies should be waddling, not attempting saddleless horseback riding.

: Another beautifully made horse statue.

: You know, my uncle once had a horse that refused to eat hay.

: Oh. That's unfortunate.

: Yep. Eventually we realized that it was just filling up on horse d'oeuvres.

: Ugh. Terrible.

: A horse statue. This one has a goofy face.

: That reminds me of a joke. A horse walks into a bar, and the barkeep says -

: "Why the long face?" Yes, yes, we've all heard that one.

: What? No. The barkeep says, "you've got to stop coming here. You're drinking us under the stable."

: I think it's time to rein in the horse jokes.

: This fountain is finely crafted. It's solid, carved marble. That can't have been cheap. I see nothing but water in the bottom of the lower basin.

: It's a shame we can't see inside the upper basin from here. That would be a perfect place to quickly stash a murder weapon.

: That's... actually not a terrible line of reasoning. We ought to wade in to take a closer look, just to be sure.

: Yeah, I suppose we should.

: Oh, I apologize. I wasn't being direct enough. What I meant to say was, "Sparrowson, go wade into the fountain and take a closer look inside the upper basin."

: Me?! No way! If you want to go wading, do it yourself.

: I'm a respectable lawyer! You can't expect me to roll up my trousers and paddle around a fountain like a duck in a lake.

: Yeah, well, you don't pay me enough to justify getting my sweet threads wet. Look. There's only one reasonable way to settle this. We'll flip for it.

: Flip for it?

: Yup. I'll flip this one franc coin. You call the outcome.. Get it wrong, and you go for a swim. So, what'll it be? Heads or tails? Napoléon face or... plant squiggles?

: "Plant squiggles"? It's called a wreath, Sparrowson. Sure, I'll bet on the "plant squiggles".
: Here I go.

: It's heads. Should have gone with the ol' Emperor, Falcon.

: Gah! Fine. Hold my shoes.

: I almost feel bad for cheating.

: Almost.

: Ah, you're back. Had a good swim?

: But I did find a mystery item in the upper basin. It's no murder weapon, though.

: What is this? It's brown and sticky. And it smells weird. Don't tell me that you picked up a -

: Very wet cigar butt? Possibly belonging to Baron Rorgueil? Correct. But that shouldn't be too surprising - it is his house, after all. I'll stash it in the evidence folder, just in case.

: Good call. But are you sure you don't want to take another dip? We still have time.

: Don't push your luck.

: We had a good look. Thank you, baron. But we actually have some questions for you.
: Please, ask away. I have nothing to hide.

: Baron Rorgueil, I would like to ask about your activities on the night of the murder.

: Oh ho, am I in trouble?

: No, no. Nothing like that. We're just gathering the full picture.

: I see. Well, let me think. The guests arrived at five o'clock, and we all sat down for dinner in this very hall at six. That part went magnificently. The photographer arrived at seven o'clock, but it wasn't until seven thirty that we had our picture taken. My housemaid discovered the crime scene soon after that.

: I see.

: Is there something else I can help you messieurs with?

: We met your housemaid, Couline Duhaut.

: She's a courteous young lady, isn't she?

: Yes, she was more than willing to help us with our investigation.

: I'm glad to hear it. Did you two want to ask something else?

: I think that will be all, Baron. Thank you very much for your time.

: It was a pleasure. Have a delightful day, messieurs.

: I hope so.

: Don't worry. If everything goes wrong in the trial we could always just...

: Terrible. Just terrible. Let's head back to the office and get some rest.

: Three new Face Book entries:

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 05:39 on May 1, 2018

free hubcaps
Oct 12, 2009

put the screws on the camelopard

Apr 23, 2014

Give her the good lawyer/bad lawyer treatment.

Hyper Crab Tank
Feb 10, 2014

The future of crustacean-based warfare

Spill the beans, dollface.

Aug 23, 2007


Jun 14, 2015

slime time

Ease off


Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Leraika posted:

Stolen gifs from better LPers. Probably not going to make my own - I'm so computer illiterate that I'm routinely surprised my PC doesn't burst into flames the moment I start typing.

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

: Visiting the other locations results in the exact same dialog we've already seen. The exception is the Baron's estate:

: Back here already? I thought you wanted to meet the photographer? Come on, Falcon, time's a-wasting!

: Wait, there's a note on the door. Ahem. "The magnificent and marvelous artist, Monsieur Robittio de Robinio, is currently out on an artistic expedition. He shall return when his muse sees fit."

: "When his muse sees fit?" What does that even mean?

: I think it means that he is a pretentious bird-brain. But in any case, the artist seems to be out. What shall we do now?

: Hmm.

: We should knock anyway.

: Alright. I don't see the harm.

: ...

: ...

: ...

: Nope. It doesn't look like he's in, Falcon.

: There's nothing else to do. Let's make a move.

: Ugh. I hate the feeling of a wasted trip. Is there really nothing else we can do?

: We should... we should break in.

: WHAT?! Are you serious?!

: ...

: Maybe?

: Monseiur Jayjay Falcon, I would have thought that a man of justice like yourself would be against such reckless displays of unlawful barbarism!

: You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over -

: It's a brilliant suggestion. Stand back, I'm barging the door down.

: Wait, just like that?! Shouldn't we discuss this first?!

Goofy (Charles Gonoud - Funeral March Of A Marionette)

: You said you wanted to break in!

: I thought we could find an open window. I didn't think you would turn into a bird-sized cannonball! Well, now that we're here we ought to make the most of it. This place is quite something. It's very...

: Swanky?

: I was going to say "ostentatious."

: That's just swanky talk for swanky.

: We don't have time for this. The sound of a door being smashed in could be drawing unwanted attention. We should find anything that may help our case, and get out.

: A picture of a sailing ship on a windy day.

: A lighthouse? No, wait, it's a man in a top hat. Actually, if I squint and turn my head sideways...

: It's a black smudge, Falcon.


: This is a tiny photograph of what appears to be a jail cell.

: That reminds me... how illegal is this? You know, breaking and entering. Rifling through a person's belongings...

: Uh...

: Uh...

: I’m not going to lie to you, Sparrowson. If were caught, we will be spending the next twenty years with a number instead of a name.

: Oh.

: Oh!

: I call 24601!

: Don't be daft, Sparrowson. You can’t “call” prison numbers.

: (drat. I wanted that one.)

: This is a picture of a fence.

: It's a fencey photograph. It leaves the viewer defenseless. Out of all the pictures here, I would picket as my favorite. Okay, I'm done. No more fence puns.

: A butterfly. Or maybe a moth. It's difficult to tell in black and white.

: This is a photograph of a castle somewhere in the countryside.

: You know, I once had an uncle who once fell off a castle rampart while on guard duty.

: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did he die?

: No. He got de-moat-ed.

: Ugh. Terrible.

: This appears to be a photograph of a ladder. Symbolic of climbing towards success, perhaps?

: It looks more like a step-ladder to me.

: Oh, no. We're not getting into that old argument.

: A beautiful picture of the Paris skyline. Given the angle, this must have been taken from Notre-Dame cathedral itself.

: I see a finely-dressed dandy fellow upon a horse.

: I see paints, inks, dyes... I'm not quite sure what the clear liquid in this bottle is.

: I could taste-test it.

: You could. But we don't have time for a hospital visit right now. So let's not.

: I see a bourgeois tigress in profile.

: Hey, Falcon! Look!

: What? It's just an easel.

: No, no, look at what's on the easel!

: There's no question about it. I see a housemaid... Dame Caterline... and I think that's Seigneur Purrtoir, Caterline's father.

: So what shall we do? Do we just... take this?

: No, no. That would be a big mistake. Every half-competent lawyer knows that stolen property can't be used as evidence. Still, we've learned some valuable information by seeing this photograph in person.

: I suppose so. Is there anything else we need to do here?

: I think we're done snooping. Let's get out of here before we draw further attention to ourselves.

: Sounds good to me.

: Oh mon Dieu! What happened to my door?!

: Uhh...

: We've been fairly law-abiding and haven't actually taken anything, so...

: Well, Monsieur Robinio, it's like this. You see, we are attorneys who have been hired for the purpose of...

: RAVEN! A raven did it! We saw the whole thing!

: (What are you doing, Sparrowson? I've got this.)

: (I'm not going to jail because your conscience is acting up!)

: (Nobody's going to jail. Just... take it easy.)

: Ugh. drat ravens. They're always after our shiny objects, am I right?

: Y-yeah. That's right.

: Let's make a move. Trial day is approaching fast.

: Right. Let's go.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 06:02 on May 1, 2018

Apr 23, 2014

Not at all. No need to let the Baron think he has a reason to lie.

And keep quiet about the silverware.

Jul 14, 2011

I'm just exploding with mackerel. This is the aji wo kutta of my discontent.


aag serves me right for leaving the thread open. Don't tattle.

POOL IS CLOSED fucked around with this message at 00:44 on Sep 23, 2017

Jul 22, 2007

Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.

Clapping Larry

The baron probably knows already, so don't call attention to it. He seems a soft-hearted sort.

We are not actually capable of putting the baron in trouble, though, so let's put him at ease there.

Jun 14, 2015

slime time

Don't worry, and don't tattle

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

: ...

: Are you nervous, Falcon?

: ...

: That bad, huh?

: ...

: ...

:Is there anything you need me to do?

: No, no. We've got a handle on things.

: Falcon was just telling me how confident he was feeling about the case.

: That's wonderful! I just know you two will pull through.

: Let's move it along, fellas.

: Ah, I'll be watching from inside! Do your best for me, Monsieur Falcon!

: We will!

: Yeah. We're ready.

Trial Opening (Original composition)

: Oh, uh, darn, that's not it. Oh gosh, where are my notes?

: Knew what?

: Rupert and I went to Paris Law School together. He was in all of my classes.

: Oh. Was he smart?

:Pfft. No. He always scored the second worst marks in the class. I can only assume that he bumbled through the final exams on the luck of his two rabbit's feet. Unless he's improved considerably, you might already have this trial in the bag.

:That's good to know. But say, Sparrowson, if Rupert scored the second lowest marks, then who scored the lowest?

: I choose to exercise my right to not self-incriminate.

:Ah, here it is. ~Ahem~ The Prosecution is ready, your honor.

: Are the jury all present?

:Hey, Falcon. I thought there were only six members of the jury for cases like this. Why do I count eight?

: Oh, those two birds with the funny hats are assesseurs - the associate judges.

:Everything seems to be in order, so let us begin! The court is now in session for the trial of Dame Caterline Demiaou. Prosecution, please call your first witness to the stand.

: Oh gosh, are we there already? Okay, uh... I choose to call the officer in charge of the murder investigation, Inspector Volerti, to the witness stand.

: Inspector Volerti, please approach the stand and recite the oath.

Juste Volerti (Berlioz - Symphonie funèbre et triomphale)

: Monsieur, no, um, inspector, please state your, uh, name and occupation for the record.

: My name is inspector Juste Volerti. I am a servant to the law. A scourge of the gutter rats that plague this city. I have enforced the law for over twenty years, and I shall continue until I bring the infamous Viridian Killer to justice. My path begins eighteen years ago...

: Let's stick to the questions, Inspector.

: Of course, your honor.

:Oh, great. I was hoping we could have one of those bumbling, cuddly officers, but instead we're stuck with lawful-goody two-shoes. I bet this guy would turn in his own mother if he saw her littering.

: So, uh, Inspector, is it true that you are the lead investigator on this case?

: That is correct. I was also among the first to arrive at the scene of the crime.

: Then perhaps you can walk us through what you witnessed upon your arrival?

: Absolutely.

: Just after seven thirty, we were alerted and brought to the scene by the housemaid of Baron Rorgueil. At the scene of the crime, we found Dame Caterline Demiaou. She was standing over the corpse of Monsieur Grenwee with blood on her paws.

: Well, that sounds like an open-and-shut case in my humble opinion. No, uh, no more questions, your honor.

: Keep it together, Falcon. You're about to be given the opportunity to cross-examine the witness. That's your opportunity to find flaws in the Inspector's testimony.

: Of course. I know this.

:You may begin your cross-examination, Monseiur Falcon.

Trial turn-about (Saint-Saëns - Samson and Delilah - Bacchanale)

: Not exactly the same as PW cross-examinations. There are two different avenues of interrogation we can pursue in regards to pressing each of the outlined details. For instance:

:That is correct.

: What was her name?

: The housemaid's name was Couline Duhaut. We found her running from Château Crinière with tears in her eyes.

: Couline... that was the thieving giraffe lady, wasn't it?

: We questioned her extensively, but we didn't find anything implicative. As far as the police are concerned, Coiline Duhaut is not a suspect.

: Hmm...

: Could the housemaid have been the murderer?

: Um, uh, I object! Falcon, you can't go around accusing people of murder willy-nilly!

: I must agree. I saw and heard nothing that made me suspect the housemaid. No motive. No means.

: Falcon, do you have any reason to suspect that the housemaid was a murderer?

: Well... no, I don't. I was just exploring the possibility.

: Hmph.

: In any case, I saw and heard nothing that made me suspect the housemaid of murder.

: No.

: Oh yeah, I guess I should have shown our evidence pigeon-holes as the trial started:

: Inspector, you say you found Dame Caterline at the scene of the crime.

: Correct. The suspect was standing right beside the victim's body.

: Did you find anything out of the ordinary in the garden?

: Out of the ordinary?

: Missing garden tools. Broken fences. That sort of thing.

: Definitely not. We combed the garden, and it came up empty. Nothing but marble horse statues and properly-trimmed grass.

: Hmm. (That seems pretty definitive...)

: When you say "standing right beside"...

: ...

: Would you say the two were less than one meter away?

: I would say around three feet.

: Feet? I'm not familiar with British measurements. How many feet are in a meter?
: Well, there are twelve inches in a foot, and two-and-a-half centimeters to an inch, so... Wait, I need a pen and paper.

: Twelve inches to a foot? That's just plain silly.

: MONSIEUR FALCON! Is this going anywhere?

: I would like to ask about the corpse of Monsieur Grenwee.

: Go on.

: What was Monsieur Grenwee's cause of death?

: That was immediately obvious when I arrived on the scene. Monsieur Grenwee had a gaping slash from shoulder to thigh. Blood was everywhere. I spoke with the coroner, and he was in agreeance: The frog died from blood loss directly caused by the open wound.

: I see.

: I suppose there's no chance of arguing that this was an unrelated injury, huh.

: Inspector, could you describe the cut on Monsieur Grenwee's corpse?

: Certainly. It was a single vertical slash. It was a fine and deep cut. The sort that you would expect to see from a sharpened saber or a suregon's knife...

: Or a cat's claw?

: Certainly.

: Wait, wait, wait. You say a saber or knife could have inflicted the wound. Isn't this a line of investigation that's worth pursuing?

: Don't be daft, Falcon. Did you see or hear anything about a knife or sword at the crime scene?

: Inspector, you say Dame Caterline had blood on her paws.

: Correct. Blood clung to her fur like guilt to a convict.

: How much blood was there on the Lady's paws, Inspector?

: Enough for it to be clear that she had dirtied her hands on the victim's body. We noticed blood under the suspect's nails, around her finger tips, and even a little around her mouth.

: Her mouth!? How vile.

: Hmm. (The Inspector's answer seems pretty definitive...)

: Whose blood was it?

: HA! What a question. It was Monsieur Grenwee's, of course.

: How can you be so sure?

: Um, uh, I object! This line of questioning is absurd! There was only one murder victim that night, Falcon. The blood on Dame Caterline's paws could have only belonged to one person - Monsieur Grenwee!

: Judge, judge! Falcon's trying to delay the trial by asking pointless questions!

: I'm afraid the prosecution may have a point, Monsieur Falcon. Do you have any reason to suspect that the blood belonged to someone other than Monsieur Grenwee?

: I do, your honor. Actually, I have more than suspicion - I have evidence that the blood on Dame Caterline's paws had nothing to do with the murder!

: This is foolish time-wasting, uh, Falcon. If the blood on Dame Caterline's paws didn't come from the victim, then where did the blood come from?

: The music cuts out here.

: Is this true, Monsieur Rabbington?

: Uh, well, I, um, in a manner of, uh, speaking, I suppose steak may have been on the, uh, menu...

: Then, inspector, would you acknowledge the possibility that the blood on the Lady's paws did not belong to the victim, but to the steak?

: Well...

: W-Wait, don't, ah, answer that, Inspector!

: ...It is a possibility.

: Noooo...

: So, inspector Volerti, is it possible that you arrested an innocent bystander simply for being a messy eater?

: Now hold on just one minute, Falcon. You are overlooking something quite crucial. Dame Caterline is an elegant bourgeois kitten. She was no doubt brought up with, uh, flawless etiquette and, um, perfect table manners. At the banquet, she would have eaten the steak with a fork in her left hand and a knife in her right, like any proper, civilized animal. How could she have possibly gotten blood on her paws with such good manners?

: Oh. That is a good question. Or at least, it would be at an ordinary dinner banquet. But as it happens, something was missing from that particular banquet. Something that forced Dame Caterline to eat with her paws...

: Dame Caterline was forced to eat steak with her paws because...

: S-Stolen? I don't recall any mention of that in the police report...

: We weren't aware of anything missing from the Rorgueil resience when we performed the initial investigation. But as it happened, Baron Rorgueil approached us about this very subject last night.

: Ah!

: What is the meaning of all this? Bloody steak? Misplaced silverware? Inspector, was your investigation so lax that you overlooked these basic facts in your initial report?

: Lax?! MY investigation? Judge, I assure you I am the most thorough investigative officer on the force.

: Then it is amazing that the Parisian police manage to solve any crimes at all.

: Heh.

: Oh dear.

: Be on your way, Inspector. Perhaps do a little inspecting for your next case.

: ...

: Fine. So be it. Messieurs, untill next time...

: As a quick aside - you can lose the case right here and now (though you have to be actively trying), and the game (as I said before) goes on regardless. But it goes on with the assumption that you've seen the next testimony, at the very least. There are only so many variables the game can keep track of, but I really think this section should have been "gently caress around, and get a feel for the mechanics consequence free".

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 06:46 on May 1, 2018

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?

Let's try some beaking and entering.

girl dick energy fucked around with this message at 13:07 on Sep 23, 2017

Apr 23, 2014

Break that poo poo.

Also, how did the Baron know the time so exactly with a handless clock?

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?

chitoryu12 posted:

Also, how did the Baron know the time so exactly with a handless clock?
I'd bet my bottom birdseed that's gonna be an important bit in the case.

Epsilon Moonshade
Nov 21, 2016

Not an excellent host.

These puns.

Definitely following this. And I think we should check in later. No reason to get on the bad side of the cops with an overt crime.

Jul 22, 2007

Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.

Clapping Larry

Hmm. If we just bust in we may let light into places it ought not go.

Let's wait for him.

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Epsilon Moonshade posted:

Definitely following this. And I think we should check in later. No reason to get on the bad side of the cops with an overt crime.
Heavens forbid that I try to influence the vote, but do you recall how many days we have before the trial starts?

Apr 6, 2009

Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

: Yes, yes, of course, your honor. I call upon, um, let's see... Monsieur Robittio Robinio, the, uh, photographer who attended the banquet on the night of the murder.

: Monsieur Robittio Robinio, please approach the stand and recite the oath.


: It's a little cliché, to be perfectly honest.

: Could the, uh, witness pleace introduce himself for the, uh, court record.

: Hmph. As if anybody in this courtroom does not immediately recognize me. I am the great Monsieur Robittio Robinio. Cutting edge photographer and visionary.

: I don't just take people's pictures. I capture their very essence. Je suis l'artiste. Te es une pipe.

: You may have seen my works in hip magazines "Le Branché" or "C'est Chouette". I can send you tweets, if you'd like.

: What on Earth is a tweet?

: Bird-to-bird communication. Come on, Falcon, it's the 19th Century. Get with the times already.

: Yes, yes, your works are very, um, impressive, Monsieur Robinio, but let's get down to business. Could you tell us your, uh, activities on the night of the murder?

: I arrived at seven in the evening. I pointed my camera, and captured the beauty of the banquet in one fantastic photograph. Then I billed Baron Rorgueil and left.

: Like a true artist.

: And, uh, with regards to the photograph itself. Who did you photograph?

: I thought you might ask. I brought a copy so that you could all see for yourselves.

: Oh, very good. Let's take a closer look.

: In the middle, we see, uh, Baron Rorgueil, the lion who hosted the event. On the left, we see, um, Seigneur Purrtoir Demiaou, the father of the defendant, Dame Caterline. And finally, we see the, uh, the housemaid, Couline Duhaut, who I suspect may have snuck into the picture uninvited.

: The second is the defendant, Dame Caterline Demiaou. Quite suspicious, wouldn't you agree?

: Just a moment, Monsieur Rabbington. This proves nothing. So the defendant and the victim were not photographed with the others. That doesn't mean that they were in the garden together at that point.

: Hold your horses, Falcon. I'm not done yet.

: The prosecution may continue.

: Now, why is that time significant? Well, as Inspector Volerti told us earlier, that was the exact time the murder took place! Do you see, Falcon? Every suspect has an alibi at the time of the murder, save for Dame Caterline herself!

: Falcon, something is fishy. In the jail cell, Dame Caterline told us that she was present when the photograph took place... but I don't see her in Robinio's photograph.

: That's true. But I can't use Dame Caterline's testimony as evidence. It has too little weight. If I want to prove that Monsieur Robinio's photograph is not a valid piece of evidence, I will have to dish out evidence of my own.

: Your honor, I would like to cross-examine the witness.

: Very well. The defense may proceed.

: Hmph. It's a waste of time, if you ask me. Photographs are rock-solid evidence!

Trial Turn-About

: Monsieur Robinio, you say that you arrived at seven o'clock.

: Give or take a couple of minutes, yes.

: How do you know that you arrived at seven?

: Well, the clock in my house read 6:45 when I left. And the walk to Château Crinière was around fifteen minutes. I don't claim to be a flawless timekeeper, but I am a professional. I always stick to an appointment.

: How long did it take to set up your camera?

: It took perhaps twenty-five minutes to find a shooting location, put together the camera, and ready the film.

: So you arrived at seven... and the photograph took place at seven thirty... and you spent twenty-five minutes setting up... That leaves five minutes unaccounted for.

: Falcon, surely you aren't suggesting that Monsieur Robinio did something, um, nefarious in this small window of time?

: I would like to ask about the camera itself.

: Go on.

: How exactly does the camera work?

: I am afraid that that is a patented trade secret.

: Oh. But it is a mechanical device, yes? You point it at something, and then it clicks and whirrs, and out shoots a photograph?

: Hmph. That's quite a crass explanation. It is true that I point and click the camera. But that only creates a negative. A prototype, of sorts. I then have to develop the photograph... and that takes time.

: How much time, exactly?

: Around four days. This photograph is hot off the press, if you will.

: I suppose that does explain why the Baron hasn't received his photograph yet.

: Can a camera ever make mistakes?

: Hmph. Now there's a question only an imbecilic, technophobic philistine could ask. No, Monsieur. The camera is a flawless device. My photographs offer a perfect reflection of reality. Nothing more, nothing less.

: So if there were an inconsistency between a photograph and reality, what would that imply?

: An odd question. I don't think such a thing could ever be possible.

: But if one were to see such a thing...

: Falcon! Stop dancing around the point, and tell us what you are trying to get at.

: Let's take a closer look at this photograph.

: I was under the impression that photographs were flawless reproductions of reality. And yet, I see something that is totally at odds with reality. It is a glaring error. It's something that is so blatant, I am amazed it has been overlooked...

: A... a glaring error?!

: Impossible!

: For you see, where as reality is in color...


: ...

: Monsieur Falcon. You are quite the foolish Luddite, aren't you? There is no mistake. All photographs are in black and white.

: All of them?

: Yes. It's a limitation of photographic technology.

: Oh. Now I feel silly.

: Monsieur Robinio, I would like to ask about your billing process.

: Okay.

: Did you bill Baron Rorgueil, and then immediately leave the scene?

: That's right. I'm a busy artist, you understand? I had no time for dilly-dallying.

: So you didn’t witness the murder or the aftermath firsthand?

: No. From what I understand, I left right before the housemaid went to investigate the garden.

: That’s a little suspicious, is it not?

: Falcon, it is coincidental timing, maybe, but lets not throw out blind accusations.

: How much did you charge the baron for your services?

: That is quite a personal question. My rate varies according to the subject, the client, and the circumstances. I don't wish to give an-

: You are under oath, Monsieur Robinio.

: Hold on, Falcon. Just because Monsieur Robinio is under oath doesn't mean that he has to answer every trivial question that you fling his way!

: Does his photography rate have anything to do with the, uh, case at hand?

: I see a mistake in the photograph.

: A mistake? Impossible! I just told you, Monsieur: The camera is a perfect, unbiased device. The photographs it produces are flawless!

: Falcon, I'm not seeing any, uh, mistakes. Perhaps you could be more specific.

: Certainly.

: The clock in this photograph... there is something not right about it.

: Hmm, well isn't that convenient? The defense sees something wrong with the, uh, key piece of evidence that implicates his client.

: Don't give me that cocky tone, Monsieur Rabbington! I have evidence that there's something wrong with the clock in that picture!

: The photograph clearly shows the clock's hands pointing at seven and six.

: That much is self-evident.

: It... It has no hands?!

: The clock is merely a decorative piece. A talking item. Feel free to ask Baron Rorgueil or his housemaid, if you have doubts. Monsieur Robinio, how do you explain this discrepancy?

: I... I don't know! There must be some sort of mistake! My camera is flawless!

: There is no mistake, monsieur. Your photograph depicts something that does not exist in the real world.

: M-Maybe there was an error in the printing process...

: An error precisely where the clock's hands should be? Please, monsieur, don't patronize us. Allow me to offer a more plausible explanation.

: E-Edited?!

: I'm no expert, but I suspect you used paint or ink to carefully put hands upon the clock! It would have been a simple task, considering that the clock face was bare. One could even speculate that you specifically chose to include a handless clock in the photograph just to simplify the editing process!

: I... I...

: Falcon, your reasoning is absurd! Why would the witness do such a thing?

: Is it not obvious? By showing the photograph to have taken place at precisely seven thirty, it clears all the photograph's subjects of suspicion. In other words, Monsieur Robinio created a perfect alibi!

: ...

: Of course, this raises further questions. Who is the witness protecting? And why? Was Monsieur Robinio coerced? Bribed? Threatened? Enough silence! Let's hear some answers, Monsieur Robinio!

: You did it?! You're confessing to the murder of Monsieur Grenwee?

: What? No, no, no. I have no idea who killed the frog. I'm just admitting that I'm guilty of producing fraudulent photographs. I was ordered to... make changes... to the printed photographs. And yes, that included adding hands to the clock.

: You were ordered? By whom?

: I... dare not say.

: Monsieur Robinio, I strongly advise you to answer the defense's question. You have pledged to speak without fear, after all.

: With respect, Judge, I fear... his claws... more than I fear the punishment of the justice system. I shall name no names.

: "His claws"! Did you hear that, Falcon?

: That is most unfortunate. Monsieur Robinio, we cannot and shall not torture names out of you. We don't live under the Ancien Régime, after all. But since you have admitted to falsifying evidence, then we cannot keep you on the stand as a witness. Take your leave. You shall be charged with perjury in due course.

: I can't protest. That's the least I deserve for my failure as an artist. Good day, messieurs.

: So the, uh, clock's hands were painted on. So what? It doesn't matter! The photograph still depicts Dame Caterline as absent close to the time of the murder. That's significant!

: Don't be dense, Monsieur Rabbington. If the photograph is not completely genuine, then it cannot be considered reliable evidence.

: Why not? It's still a portrayal of the, uh, night's events.

: Because, if we accept that one part of the picture was edited, then we must accpe the possibility that other parts were too. It is possible that Dame Caterline was painted out. Even worse, it is possible that another person was painted in. We know that the witness was trying to cover for someone, so all possibilities must be accounted for.

: So what are you saying, Falcon? That the housemaid paid off the photographer? Or was it Seigneur Purtoir Demiaou, perhaps?

: I don't think so. The housemaid lacks a means or motive. And it wouldn't make sense for Seigneur Purrtoir to implicate his own daughter.

: Well, surely you're not suggesting that the honest and beloved baron Rorgueil deliberately tried to frame Dame Caterline? Because that would be the most outlandish theory yet. The baron is a pillar of our community! He would never do such a thing.

: Monsieur Rabbington, I'm not here to throw accusations. That's the job of you, the prosecutor. However -

Baron Rorgueil

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 07:29 on May 1, 2018

girl dick energy
Sep 30, 2009

You think you have the wherewithal to figure out my puzzle vagina?

That's an "are you SURE?" if I ever saw one.



Jun 17, 2007

Yam Slacker

Must be a vital clue available if we break in, one that could change the course of the trial. Respect the note.

  • Locked thread