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Victims' Limbo

Victims' Limbo

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Muder mystery, character driven roleplay game that takes place after all six characters are dead.

1,656 readers have visited Victims' Limbo since Snowfall created it.

Introduction

[center]---Who are we?---
At a first glance, six normal people. Unremarkable teenagers. All students at the same high school, in the same city. They've crossed paths, but they hardly know each other. There is just one uniform fact that unites them.
They are all dead.

---Where are we?---
Now they are trapped, lost in a void. Memories of their life haunt them; why can't they go peacefully? The answer? They have been murdered. Their murderer was not caught. Now they are trapped in a limbo between life and death.
Their killer is amongst them. Who? They communicate. They know that if they find the murderer, they can finally leave. However, the killer is lying, hiding, deceiving, preventing their descent to hell.

---What are we?---
Limbo is an odd place. They do not eat, drink or sleep. They cannot be injured. All there is to do is talk. They are alone. They appear how they did exactly one second before their death, fatal wounds included. They all died in different ways, they all remember how. But they have to remember that one of them is lying. One of them wasn't murdered. That one person is the killer.





Now I Explain.
Basically, this is a character-driven murder mystery roleplay that takes place after all six characters are dead. In case you didn't get the idea from my not-all-that-clear explanation above, seven of them were murdered, and one of them is the murderer, who died in a different way. The murderer is lying to them all, because if they are discovered, they will go to hell.

The Twist!
There will be only two roleplayers who know who the murderer is. Me, and the person playing him/her. (Unless, obviously, I decide that I am going to play the killer.) When everyone has signed up, I will PM one of you guys and ask if you would take the role of killer. This will be based on two things.
1. How skilled you are. You CANNOT give yourself away. Make up your story, and make it good. It's okay to put in little slips or mistakes, but there is a tricky balance to be found. Make a believable lie.
2. Your character. A one-dimensional character is no good as a murderer. Where's the motive? Where's the desire? Give your character a point. But again, find the balance. Someone filled with hate and aggression is too obvious. If you want a violent brat, make them innocent.

Rules
Sorry, I know we all hate them :)
- Literate only, please, please, please. I reserve the right to reject your character sheet based on that.
- Grammar, punctuation and spell-check: proof read. It just makes things easier.
- Please be active. This can't work if your character doesn't say anything. In fact, we might be more suspicious.
- Imaginative and original characters. I don't want eight bullied, lonely, but actually lovely and decent students. Nor do I want Mary/Gary Sues. They WILL be rejected. I'll also prod you a little if your character looks to be one.
At the end of your character skeleton, please write 'numero uno' so that I know you have read all of this. Thanks. Now continue reading.

Character Skeleton
Sorry, this roleplay is full and running.

Toggle Rules

The GM of this roleplay hasn't created any rules! You can do whatever you like!

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors

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[color=#BF4444]
Limbo.

An expanse. A perfectly flat floor with no markings, made of a solid, alien material. It stretches as far as the eye can see, and further, blending into the walls. Were there walls? There was no way to tell -- anyone wondering in that direction would find themselves going around in circles, no matter how straight their walk was. Everything was a light shade of grey, not quite dark enough to be oppressive, but not light enough to feel bright. There seemed to be no light source, yet everything was clear to see, without shadow. There was truly nowhere to hide.

In the centre, the only landmark in the nothingness, was an old-fashioned ballot box. It was the same grey as the walls, and made from the same strange substance as the floor. A single slot stretched across the top, just wide and long enough to fit the heavy card that lay next to it. The card itself had brief instructions, and six boxes with a name written by each. A pencil was attached to the box, a pencil that would only work on the voting card that would decide the fate of six unfortunate teenagers.

The six names were ordered alphabetically. Matthew Arkwright. Catherine Baker. Stephen Blackwood. Christi Madone. Leila Anna Scott-Smith. Isamune Takata. Five of those were murdered. One was the murderer.

The instructions read in the language of the reader, and were clear and to the point.

Select with a mark of any kind the name of who is believed to be the murderer. This person shall descend to their judgement, and their victims will pass in peace.

Choose well.
[/colour]

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Leila regained consciousness. That was how she knew something was wrong.

Where was she? All she could see was grey. How could she have moved, and yet still be in the same position she had been as she lay dying? There was no pain now, which didn't make sense either. Her hunger had vanished, as had her fatigue, two things she distinctly remembered. How had she come to be here, in this alien place?

She lifted her head, then sat up. Grey floor at the same temperature as her skin, grey walls far off, a grey ceiling high up. She sniffed, and caught the scent of blood. She twisted her head around to stare down her back, tugging away the fabric of her turquoise-and-black striped jumper. 'Oh God, oh God, oh God…' Ranging down her back were fresh wounds, blood showing but not leaking, two inches wide apiece. In a breath, everything returned to her, a tsunami of unwelcome memory. She'd been walking home after her piano lesson. Her mind had been occupied with the argument she'd had with her teacher, who didn't understand why she wouldn't, she couldn't play the piece she'd been supposed to learn. Her stomach had rumbled, asking for food. She increased her pace, darting around a corner--

Cold slithered down Leila's spine, like ice cubes dropped down her back. She hadn't seen the figure lingering in the dark. She'd been unaware of their presence until the knife sliced through her jumper, her skin, her muscle. It had pierced her senses with a sharp pain, once, twice, again, again, again. The last stab had been the final blow, she'd fallen to the pavement, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Agony, unlike anything she had ever felt before, like fire burning through the wounds, her blood was seeping away, warm and crimson, leaving her cold and drained, and still. Her last thought; what had it been? Mum, Dena--

Her head dropped into her hands. Mum, Dena, Noah, I'm so sorry… Her family, all the family she had in the world, gone in moments. No. It wasn't them that were gone. She had left them. She curled up into a ball, hugging her knees. She felt like she should be crying, there was stinging in her eyes and her chest was hitching, yet no tears spilled. She was unable to cry. How did that just make everything worse?

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Music was still playing when Izzy opened her eyes. She felt nothing but the awkward temperature of the ground below her, and slowly the realization that she was lying face-down came to her. Gravity took effect as the feeling trickled down her spine, into her arms, and down her legs, reminding her that she had limbs.

"Jesus," Izzy whispered as she groggily liften herself to her knees. What happened last night? It must have been one hell of a high.

As the industrial-sized headphones around her neck blasted bass beats, she looked around the vast light-grey nothingness that enveloped her. A slight twitch of anxiety struck her before disappearing. Looking down to lift herself off the floor - if that was what one would call it - her eyes widened at the blood on the front of her shirt. In the middle of it was a large hole which gleamed with still blood.

It hit her like a brick. Lifting her hands through her hair and resting on her temples, Izzy shook her head and closed her eyes. She remembered walking the familiar route from the club, Neon, to her apartment. The music that played now was the same she had been listening to then.

In her memory a loud bang startled her even through her headphones, and pain seared through her back. As if in slow motion, Izzy watched the bullet exit her stomach, her own blood and flesh bursting out with it. Falling to the ground, an incapacitating pain clutched her insides as blood flowed from the hole. Lying face-down on the cold cement of the sidewalk, she groaned as loud as she could, hearing a few footsteps behind her.

She was losing conciousness already. Her vision blurred and her hearing waved from audible to not. Another loud bang made her jump even in her pain, and the flesh in her shoulder seemed to explode. A few moments, or perhaps hours, passed before the stranger walked past her, only their feet barely visible through her tunneling vision. Warm fluid was circling her on the sidewalk and falling from her open mouth. Falling in and out of conciousness for what felt like a decade, she wished herself to death.

Back in the territory of gray nothing, Izzy's arms fell limp to the ground as she stared a hole into it, hunched over and merely shaking her head. She knew she'd been dead. A very sure feeling made her adamant she'd died. After a few moments of shock, Izzy stood on shaky legs, wide eyes examining everything. She pushed away the feelings that might make her cry with another angry and violent shake of the head.

She'd died, and this was no heaven or hell. So where, she thought frantically, was this?

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#, as written by Raijn
Rinni's initial reaction was bringing her hands up to her throat, grasping it where a blue line told the tale of how she'd ended up here. She wanted to cry, even scream in fury and fear at the same time but nothing came. Getting to her feet, she tried retracing her steps. Where was she, where was.. And why did it feel like every breath was slightly hindered by that same line on her throat, invisible to Rinni herself.

Slowly, she got on her knees, looking down at the strange floor. How did she end up here? Looking up towards the sky, or whatever it was, she tried remembering what had happened before everything went black. The memories where blurry, like everything had happened during an adrenaline-kick. She had been scared, that was for sure. She could remember fighting for the right to breathe, pressure on her throat keeping her from breathing until.. And that was it. The forest came back, the memories hitting her like the stream of a raging waterfall. Rinni had been running, unsure of what was behind her and not caring. Resting by a tree, the individual had suddenly been behind her, and she had been fighting, but not enough.

"Oh," was all the squeaky voice of Catherine Baker managed to express. "Oh, my God.." the voice sounded a bit harsh, as if there was still something applying pressure to her windpipe. Everything was floating through her mind - the loved ones she'd lost, her friends at school. This didn't seem like any sort of heaven or hell she'd ever read about. She didn't know if she had the might to be disappointed underneath the almost choking fear that was still threatening to take over. Slowly breathing in and out, she tried to take control not to hyperventilate, something that seemed oddly simple. Soon, as she calmed down, she started to wonder what was going on.

Still on her knees, Rinni turned her gaze to her surroundings.

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#, as written by Cypher
Face down on the cold floor, Stephen Blackwood's chest heaved suddenly. It felt like he was hauling himself up through a nightmare; the columnist's limbs felt nothing. Yet, when he finally regained the ability to haul himself slowly, ponderously, up off the floor, what he saw shocked him.

His arms were a mottled crisscross of angry red, purple, yellow and blue markings, some of the bruises going past his polo shirt and presumably down across his torso. He attempted to wrinkle his nose and felt dried blood cracking beneath it, along with the feeling of the cartilege shifting in a very uncomfortable manner. Reaching one tentative hand up to feel at his nose, Blackwood noted, to his dismay, that it was shattered. He set it as best he could, and bent to retrieve his fallen hat from the floor when the memories struck.

Pain. Distant, fuzzy, dulled by the passage of time and adrenaline. He had been heading home from the library via the sidewalk carrying his printed articles for the newspaper in his arms. He was moving vast, attempting to beat the setting sun, and his peripheral vision was blurred as a result. The columnist deduced this was why he hadn't seen his assailant. All he knew was that one moment, he was running, and the next there was a cold steel bat being slammed against the back of his skull.

Stars flared behind his eyes, a multicolor rainbow filling his vision briefly as the mysterious attacker drew back for a second blow. Stephen saw himself turning, moving as if in a drunken stupor, attempting to face his assailant. The second swing knocked the glasses from his face and shattered his nose, blacking both of his eyes. The adrenaline settled into him at this point, where his thoughts blurred. He raised his arms to cover his face from another blow, and the strikes from the bat rained down. Dull metallic sounds as the bat hit his shattered watch - clank, clank, clank - followed up by the sound of that same bat smashing into his bare arms. The feeling of a hand pulling at his forearms, tearing his defensive barrier down. The columnist remembered himself slapping the attacker in the ear with a flattened palm, sending him - or her - reeling for a few seconds, long enough for him to throw a right hook that missed horribly. The bat hit him in the torso, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him onto the ground. The next hit forced him into unconsciousness.

The most destressing thing about it was that he couldn't recall anything else. His last thoughts escaped him, as did everything else that ran through his head during the fight. Thoughts, instincts - all were wiped clean. Stephen shuddered at the thought. He was at peace with the thought of his own death, but not being able to remember what had happened was the worst part. Probably due to the fact that he couldn't get good and steamed up at the person who had killed him, so he could write a nice angry note to that person. Lord knows violence hadn't worked.

The columnist eventually regained enough sense to examine his surroundings. He looked around and saw three others. One generic looking girl - one of the popular girls, if he recalled properly. Steve wondered what she was doing here. Izzy, the druggy girl who had all of the trance music on her iPod. He grimaced at the thought of her being without her omnipresent galaxy of brightly-colored pills, ready for sale at any time. A couple Vicodin would work miracles for his swirling thoughts at that moment. And Rinni. Little Rinni. Quiet, confusing, introverted, shy, cute little Rinni. The stoic, angry columnist's heart sank a couple pegs at realizing she was dead as well - he could understand someone wanting to kill him and Izzy, for obvious reasons. Even the popular girl may have pissed someone off enough to do the deed. But Rinni, who had appeared to not have done anything horrible in her life at all...

Steven felt the immediate urge to run over and check everyone (starting with Rinni), see if they were alright. But he decided against it in favor of examining their present environment.

That, and he doubted that the angry, cynical, controversial newspaper columnist would be a calming influence on anyone at all. Especially at this point in time.

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Matthew let out a small groan as he lay there. Things were confusing at this point in time. He kind of felt like he was hungover from a good night out, but at the same time, he also felt different, like his body had taken a pounding. Whatever it was he felt awful and couldn't remember the night before. When he opened his eyes though, he realised things didn't add up and he had no idea where he was.

Letting out a small groan Matt slowly sat up and looked around. Everything was a light shade of grey and the place looked like it went for miles. Where the hell was he? Finally his attention was drawn away from his surroundings and to other people that were in the room - well he wasn't even sure that he could call it a room. Whatever it was there were others there with him. He decided he had to go and see them and see if they knew what was going on. He was so wrapped up in finding out where he was he didn't notice or feel the blood and deep gash that was on his head, or the fact that his face looked like he'd been hit by a train.

The closer he got to everyone though the more he noticed that they all looked hurt. He looked down at himself though and couldn't see any kind of cut or bruise on him. What the fuck was going on? He thought.

"What is going on?" He asked as he got closer, noticing for the first time when he spoke something didn't sound or feel right.

It was then that he remembered exactly what happened before he woke up here. Matt was running away from something or someone when he ran out into the middle of the road to an ongoing car. It hit him but he couldn't remember it stopping and just remembered seeing the blurred faces of people on the other side - then nothing. After that Matt couldn't remember a single thing.

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((Sorry guys I was not aware that I had been accepted into this thread.))

Christi woke suddenly with the impact of her fall. She gasped and opened her eyes, groaning. There was nothing to see except grey, grey, and more grey. This was really going to annoy her if this was Heaven. If this was Hell, well then, she figured it would annoy her. Christi sat up with the feeling of refreshment, though she knew it was nothing of the sort. When she looked around she saw the same grey expanse she'd just looked up on.

"What the hell?" she murmmured. Then, as if the light had been revealed to her, she remembered. She remembered getting hit by a car, her legs snapping uncomfortably, her mind falling into the dark abyss. And then....she remembered falling. That was the last thing she'd ever felt was falling. That and searing pain in her entire body, especially her legs. She remembered barely opening her eyes to see the dark figure slowly fade from her vision. And now, she was awake.

Was she dead? Most likely. Was she in Heaven or Hell? Who knew. Was she dreaming? Hopefully.

Christi tried to stand up, but a weird sensation stopped her. She looked down at her legs and saw nothing but blood. She could tell from the bones that seemed too far out of place that her legs were broken. Christi tried to stand again and found that she could if she she did it slowly. It didn't even hurt, not really. It was very uncomfortable for the time being, but she could deal with it.

Looking at herself some more, she realized how much blood was on her clothing. She cautiously touched the back of her head, remembering vivid images of hitting the asphalt hard. There she found what she'd been searching for: a shattered skull, blood coming from it and down her neck. She guessed she couldn't say it was actually bleeding anymore, but she knew that there was a lot of it running down her neck and back. Other injuries included the majority of her body, but none were as bad as her head and legs.

Christi was still taking it all in when the feeling of panic she should have been expecting set in. She began to whimper in fright, all of the memories finally sinking in.

Now the questions were: Was she dead? Yes. Was she in Heaven or Hell? Still undetermined. Was she dreaming? Unfortunately not. Was she a ghost? So it seemed.

The only question that now made the panic worse, however, was 'Where was she?' Christi had no idea and from the looks of it, this was just an expanse of grey.

Then, for the first time, Christi took in her surroundings again. There were people! She wiped tears from her eyes and blinked, but they were still there. With labored and awkward steps, she hurried towards them. It was not so much from happiness than it was from relief. She was not alone and that had sparked 'new life,' so to speak, in her.

When she was closer to the group, she noticed how sad and....dead they were. Were they murdered too? Curiously, she stopped and walked around the group silently for a quick glance at what lay behind them. She read the words on the paper and gasped in silent agony.

The murderer was in their midst!

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Leila didn't know how long she was crying for, but when she lifted her head, movement caught her eye. There were others here, she saw now, she wasn't alone. She still felt it, but technically, she was joined by five other teens. She could name all of them, she thought, if she tried. Matthew Arkwright, Rinni something, Steve something else. Christi Madone, Izzy Tadaka, Takada, something like that. They weren't people she knew well, but at least she recognised them, and none of them were really horrible. The only thing that was really worrying was that most of them seemed to have fared worse than her in the injuries department. Christi, shuffling towards the rest of them, had blood all over her legs and head. Matthew had escaped with only a cut on his head, as far as she could see, and both Izzy and Rinni looked uninjured from her disadvantage point on the floor.

She was distracted by Matt speaking. "What's going on?"

He was walking towards them, though seemed distracted, caught up in some memory. It was a good question, though. What was going on? Why wasn't she in Heaven, or Hell, or being reincarnated, or something? She didn't believe there was nothing after death, but what kind of afterlife was this? A seemingly random selection of near-strangers in some bizarre everlasting room? She groaned, tugging her collar up to hide her stab wounds, forgetting that her jumper would also be ripped through. "I don't know," she replied, watching Christi walk over to…what was that? A ballot box? How did that make sense? "But by the looks of things, we're all…dead."

She swallowed after saying it, the word casting shivers across her skin. She didn't want to be dead. There was a lot more she had wanted to do. She wanted to play in a concert. She wanted to wear a piece of clothing she had made herself. She wanted to see Noah and Dena grow up. She wanted to...

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#, as written by Raijn
It felt as if her mind was going to blow up. Everything around her became blurry for a moment, it was just too much for her mind to take. Rinni slumped down from her knees again, pulling her feet into a hug as she rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes, trying not to think about what was happening. She didn't know what was worst; the fact that she had actually spent most of her teenage years angsting and wanting this to happen, or the fact that now that it had happened, she regretted it. Or did she? It was hard to tell these days.

Looking it the other ones in the room, she could tell they were all disturbed by it as she was. She watched as Christi walked over to some kind of box, reading.
"But by the looks of things, we're all…dead." Leila commented. Rinni shook her head, bringing her hand to touch where the induvidual had strangled her. Looking at the others, it was easy to tell what they had in common.
"Not just dead," her squeaky voice almost sobbed, "I think we've been murdered," she brought a hand up in front of her mouth to cover as the tears threatened to take over again. She wasn't really stating a fact as much as reminding herself of this, as if it helped.

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#, as written by Cypher
Stephen's shadow loomed close to the group as soon as Rinni held back from crying. His ability to move so quietly without trying was actually rather disconcerting. Most people found his presence disconcerting anyways, though, so it wasn't really new when he felt the sense of foreboding washing off the crowd to hit him like a wave. Taking what would have been a herculean effort from any normal man, but was only a mild exertion from the columnist, he shouldered the wave aside and crouched down next to Rinni. A hand tentatively reached out to rest on her shoulder - a comforting gesture that Blackwood had never had the opportunity to attempt before, so his arm ended up stiff as a limb of ironwood, his hand in an almost vise-like grip on her shoulder.

"I don't see why being murdered is such a problem right now." Stephen grunted to the group. "I mean it's not like I had anything to live up to." The columnist then dropped into a mutter. "Except for a college degree, a review column on the New York Times, hundreds of millions of dollars a year, a fancy mansion with a gold-plated platinum toilet and hundreds of beautiful maidens at my beck and call..."

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Her hands on her hips, Izzy flipped her hair out of her eyes with a quick flick of her head. She hadn't even noticed there were others here, and now that she had she felt even worse.

Everyone here had been murdered, then. Even Izzy, who'd been calloused by the streets and hard-hitting pills, was feeling herself break apart at the seams. However, as she walked up to the group that had gathered with her stone-cold face and locked jaws, noone would have ever known.

"That's just great," she muttered, looking more angry than scared. The people around her, she knew all of them just the slightest bit. Stephen Blackwood, a newspaper columnist who was fresh into college and a rather cynical person, she remembered clearly. If memory served her, he'd written a story about the drug problem in the city when they were in high school. There was Madone, who's first name she could not remember, and Catherine Baker, who she'd heard bein called Rinni, sitting on the ground being comforted like the little sister of the group. Leila, who she harldy knew at all, and Matthew Arkwright, who was apparently very popular and very unpopular with the ladies. They were mostly all covered in blood.

Looking over to the Madone girl, she noticed for the first time that there was a very random ballot box standing in the middle of the room and a piece of paper which Madone was reading. Scooting closer, Izzy skimmed over the painted words. All of their names were placed in alphabetical order, and then..

"Select with a mark of any kind the name of who is believed to be the murderer," Izzy read aloud, as to bring everyone's attention to this very new piece of information. "This person shall descend to their judgement, and their victims will pass in peace.."

Crinkling her nose, Izzy spun around to face everyone and balled her fists. "Alright," she hissed. "Who the fuck murdered me?!"

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Leila didn't really know how to reply to Izzy's demand. Half a dozen retorts flashed through her mind, though she rejected all of them. Things were suddenly a lot more serious, though she'd never have thought that was possible. The pressure settled across her shoulders. She knew well that she was perceptive; her mother called her a walking lie-detector, for goodness' sake. But this was unlike anything she'd…unlike anything. Under the circumstances, with the distressing thought of sending someone to, what, Hell? If she wasn't careful, they might think it was her. But if she was too careful, she'd look suspicious, but if she was too carefree…She groaned. She could only fight her case and try her best to decide who she thought should be selected. There was also the worry that they would get it wrong…But she couldn't consider that now.

"Who indeed," she finally responded, chewing her lip. She guessed the obvious candidate would be the bruise-covered Steve, who was currently squeezing Rinni's shoulder in a probably-not-too-comforting way. His reputation was, after all, that of an insensitive egotist. Though, his first reaction to Rinni had been to try and reassure her, and just because he could be harsh, it didn't mean he was violent. And even if he was, was he violent enough to kill? Christi was standing by the ballot box, looking like she was in shock, which immediately said innocent…though anyone with enough acting skills could appear that horrified. She was quite rebellious, and though she was known to be sweet, she didn't actually have that many friends. Not that Leila could talk, she herself having few people close to her, and fewer of those were fellow students.

"Well," she attempted to brighten up a little, since they couldn't dwell on what they had left behind forever. "We can't go back to life, so...Working out who killed us is priority, right?" She looked between the others, hoping anxiously she didn't look suspicious, and more anxiously that she was helping, and not just making things worse.

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((EDITED))

Christi subconsciously felt herself step to the side a little to let a girl come beside her to read the ballot paper. She read them aloud and Christi recognized the voice to be Isamune "Izzy" Takata's. Without realizing it, Christi's fingers became restless upon this realization. She wasn't afraid of Izzy, but Izzy's reputation was one to be aware of. Izzy was a drug dealer and quite the popular 'go-to' person. She was also known to be bisexual and it was clear in the way she dressed. Christi was not too different in terms of dress, but she sometimes stayed to the more form fitting t-shirts rather than the baggy ones. That was the exact opposite for her shorts though.

Looking down again, Christi sighed, taking a step back from the ballot box. Her shorts were quite the bloody mess and this did not please her; although, neither did her blood covered legs. Always one to show off her toned legs, she was deeply disappointed that now they looked repelling. She held out her hands, which were slightly torn and road-burned from her run in with the car, just some time before her death.

"Alright," Christi heard Izzy hiss furiously. "Who the fuck murdered me?!"

Christi looked up to see the back of Izzy's figure, her fists balled in anger. The group of others had certainly been left with an attention getter. Just as she looked to the group, Christi noticed Leila Smith eyeing her and Izzy curiously. Leila didn't seem to be too accusing when her gaze set on Christi, and Christi was relieved since Leila was known to be very perceptive--and accurately perceptive at that.

". . . . Working out who killed us is priority, right?" Leila asked. Christi had heard her saying something before, but she'd been too zoned out to catch it.

Taking a step forward, past Izzy, Christi rejoined the group and looked around quietly. Then she nodded her agreement. "This is the second time my legs have been busted up, so I would like to know who the hell screwed them up again."

Christi was not known to be mentally sane and she seemed to exemplify this in her small ways. She could always know that it would only progress the longer she was confined to one group or one place. This could be bad in the long run. . . . .

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#, as written by Raijn
Rinni looked up at the others, especially at Stephen, giving him a weak smile for his obvious attempt to calm her down, even if it had failed, the thought still counted. She looked up at Izzy, pulling her legs closer as she realised how angry the girl looked. Rinni had heard the rumours about her, and silently prayed she wouldn't start beating confessions out of herself an the others.

"We can't go back to life, so...Working out who killed us is priority, right?"
"This is the second time my legs have been busted up, so I would like to know who the hell screwed them up again."
She wanted to point out her agreement with Leila, that finding the murderer would be the first priority, but was quite frankly too scared of Izzy, and now Christie as well, to even consider anything else than the attempt to spontaneously turn invisible for the others, as she often had tried in her state of living. This was horrible. She still had that strange feeling as if something was applying pressure to her windpipe, and everyone else was covered in blood or at least showing signs of lethal wounding.
"But," the frail voice of Catherine Baker started, surprising herself at the sudden surge of courage that allowed her to open her mouth. "Why kill all of us? Who would have reason to kill every single one of us?" she looked up at the others, suddenly realising that it didn't make sense. Sure, a lot of these people could have pissed of the right person, but all of them? Together? It didn't add up.

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Matt had stayed silent until now chewing over everything in his mind. He'd heard most of what was going on around him but it confused him even more. They'd all been murdered. He'd been murdered. He was dead. Not breathing any more, not on Earth. That meant no more nights getting drunk and sleeping with the ladies. No more getting laid. What? No. That couldn't be right. That sounded more like hell to him. He was too young to die.

"There is no way I'm dead..." He told himself. "This is some dumb joke. I'm too young to die and when I find out who's doing this, they'll die."

Probably threatening to kill someone while they were trying to decide who the killer was amongst them probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but Matt was mad and refusing to believe that he was dead and out of the real world now. He couldn't accept that despite it been quite obvious that he was. He started pacing up and down trying to clear his head and think, but all he could remember now was the car crashing into him and then nothing. He had died.

"Fuck you!" He shouted to no one in particular, kicking the air as he had nothing else to kick at that current moment. "I'm not fucking dead. There has gotta be some way out of this. This has to be a joke. I was so close to getting laid."

The young boy just kept thinking of himself and no one else.

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Looking at Rinni, who seemed even more scared after the outburst, Izzy immediately felt worse. However, she merely crossed her arms and let out a large sigh. Her mind raced; they were right, and their top priority should be the murderer. They were no longer living, and she had to face that fact and move on, whether or not anyone else would. She did not want to go to hell, nor did she want to remain here forever.

Matthew was busy having a nervous breakdown, she noticed, and was staring around the room like a dog with rabies. Really, nearly frothing at the mouth. "Fuck you!"......" she heard him yell, though he couldn't have been talking to anyone in particular. This has to be a joke... I was so close to getting laid.."

Hearing this Izzy crinkled her nose in disgust and raised her eyebrows at him. "Getting laid? Is that really the only thing you can think about?" She shook her head. "You are dead!" She gestured towards Matt as she yelled the last room. She then reached into her back pocket and fetched a neon green tube, with a label that read 'M&M Minis' "For Christ's sake," Izzy popped the lid to the tube open, "take a chill pill."

The contents of the tube slid into her hand, mostly white and circular, a few pale blue, and a few that looked like capsules. "Shit," she whispered, and shook the objects in her hand. There were only 6 left. Six. That was normally the amount she could take in a day, if not more.

"On second thought," she said, with an annoyed look on her face as she slid the pills back into the tube, "just shut your mouth." Looking around the room, she wondered who could've been the murderer. Rinni was right, she couldn't think of why any of these people would want to murder all of them. "We need to think of something here." Izzy put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. "Any takers?"

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#, as written by Cypher
"This has to be a joke. I was so close to getting laid."

And there it was. Stephen took his opportunity to alleviate the tension that was evident in their uniform grey world by doing the only thing he could ever do well in his life. By relentlessly mocking another's misfortune. The columnist leaned forward and sat on his haunches, curling his feet forward slightly. His face turned into a mocking grin, as a sort of forward warning. "Calm down, boy," he grunted, "It's not like she was gonna put out for you anyways."

The reporter leaned back on his haunches again, resting his rear against the floor. For a while he pondered as the others spoke. He heard something about his murder, along with the others', at that point, and decided to listen a bit more intently. The conversation extended for a while, then died out. Finally, he stood again. "Yeah, I guess I got no other choice. I'll help out with the investigation." He shrugged. "Beats moping around all day."

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Leila blinked, realising she had taken it for granted that everyone would want to know who was the killer. Izzy and Christi had clearly stated they wanted to know, though whoever was guilty would watch their back even more with those two after them. She couldn't blame them -- she just wanted to get out of here. Steve had said he would help, which was good, because that made them the majority. She doubted Rinni would try to stop them, in the unlikely event that she disagreed, but Matt…Well, Matt was in denial. His mind was revolving around himself, which was just what they needed right now. She sighed, but she watched him as well. Her teeth unconsciously pressed into her bottom lip, once, twice, again, again. How was he going to react to Stephen's comment? Even though it was probably true, considering Matt's reputation, it was insensitive. The others were talking on, but she waited on his response. Mainly she wanted to cool him down a bit, but there was still that second motive, preying on her mind. Like a dripping tap in her ear: find the murderer, find the murderer. As she had the habit of doing, Leila was pressuring herself into taking on a job too hard for one kid to handle.

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#, as written by Raijn
"This has to be a joke. I was so close to getting laid."
"Calm down, boy," he grunted, "It's not like she was gonna put out for you anyways."


Rinni's wide eyes stared at the two, but she didn't comment as Stephen teased the poor boy, obviously in denial about his and the other's deaths. She just hoped it wouldn't turn into a full-blown fight, which was quite frankly the last thing they needed at the moment.

"Yeah, I guess I got no other choice. I'll help out with the investigation. Beats moping around all day."

She wasn't sure what to think or say about all of this. Of course, they needed to write the name of their murderer down and get out of there, but which name? Who would descend to the fiery depths of hell while the others rested in peace? It was all so weird. She wasn't even sure if 'weird' was a good word to describe it. Strange didn't sound any better, neither did any other word she could think of. The thought hit her that she was simply a soul now, the image of a person she used to be. Yet her mind was racing. Who could have done this to all of them? Who had the motive, and who had the opportunity? Her courage had died slightly, and she held her mouth shut, biting her bottom lip in thought. Though not exactly a TV-slave of sorts, she had seen enough criminal films on TV to know how one performed an investigation, or at least how one could perform one. Looking up at the others, still deep in thought, she wondered who would take charge of it. Everyone was a suspect now, no matter background or reputation, even herself she supposed. Rinni finally let go of her feet, but didn't rise as she actually felt safer when she was sitting down. Keeping quiet, she once again wished she had the ability to turn invisible, but was let down as usual.

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Christi listened, calmly weighing her options. It seemed that the majority was joining Izzy's investigation to discover the murderer. The only problem with this was that, if everyone joined, who was the murderer? Christi could fathom how this was going to get them one step closer to figuring it out. Yes, she thought they should investigate and what-not to discover who all put them in this dreadful place, but then again, they couldn't all group together because the murderer, obviously quite wise and intelligent, would join to just to throw the suspicion.

Christi couldn't think of any logical alternative to banning together, however, so she kept her mouth shut. She watched the others curiously and narrowed her eyes when Rinni randomly stood up, saying nothing. Christi was confused at her action, but shrugged it off and observed more of the scene.

Finally, she decided to join in as well. "I'm in, though I don't see how banning together solves much of anything. Sure, we need teamwork, but banning together won't get us one step further because the murderer, whoever he or she may be, will join our little team too. There is no logical alternative as far as team work goes, but I thought you should be aware of this."

Christi started looking around frantically with her eyes, something clearly eating her. All she knew was that it] was finally kicking in. Her mental problems were surfacing with new light.

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Matt frowned as he finished throwing his own little hissy fit at the situation in time to hear everyone joining this 'investigation' that they were going to start. What did it matter? It was pointless and he sure as hell wasn't going to join it. He turned to finally look at the group of people, having ignored everything that had been said up until now to him, except for what the only other guy had said. He noted that and made sure he remembered it, because he wasn't impressed. Who was he to judge his life when he didn't even know him.

"Whatever. I'm not joining. It's pointless anyway. What're we going to do, all join sit in a circle and play question time until someone slips up? I'm not joining something pointless. I'm actually going to sit and think of a way out of this mess, or just wait until I wake up." He stated.

He took a seat not too far from everyone after making his point and just sat there silently trying to think of something, or at least wake up. This was not funny and the more he thought about it the angrier he started to get.

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"Matt?" Leila spoke, making her way over to him. She didn't want to be annoying, but she didn’t want to leave him alone either. Whatever was going on, she believed they were dead. One look at Christi's legs did it for her, and this place simply felt surreal. The fact she wasn't tired, hungry, thirsty or in pain. It felt obvious, which made her even more determined to get him to understand. It wasn't in her nature to let somebody sit out and be isolated. It was one of the reasons people thought she was annoying. Another was her optimism.

"If you're not dead," she began carefully, her tone deliberately light, "then what's the problem? This has to be some kind of dream -- how else do you explain this place, and the fact we're all injured? And if it's a dream, it'll all be over soon." She bit her lip again, not wanting to stress that too much. "And if we have all been murdered, then sitting over here on your own isn't going to prove your innocence. Do you want to end up in hell? It can't be that bad figuring out who did it, right?"

God, it's like Cluedo, the thought intruded on her mind. She was unwittingly thrown back to the time her older cousin, Tyler, had explained the game to her. She'd understood the draw immediately, though at the game itself she had been no good. Tyler had beaten both her and his brother, and had not been a gracious winner. She'd never played it again, but the idea of finding the killer had been both intriguing and entertaining. She shivered. It was different in reality. When people were really dead. When there was really a murderer. She couldn't shake it from her mind. She'd never been good at that. She forced herself to concentrate on Matt, but she didn't really feel like persuading him anymore. "At least try to lighten up a bit," she said finally. "At least stop sulking like a kid."

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#, as written by Cypher
"Oh good, now we have a den mother." Stephen grunted. Although his terse and clipped statement sounded sarcastic, secretly he was rather relieved to have someone taking care of the little caucus' nervous breakdowns that wasn't him. He was a journalist, not a psychiatrist. He made problems for people, not fixed them. Someone being on their first, or second, or nineteenth nervous breakdown wasn't concerning him -

Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown.

19th Nervous Breakdown. The Rolling Stones.

"Ha. Ha ha. Hahaha." And just like that, Stephen broke out laughing. And not little airless giggles; either, he was rolling on the floor to the point where it felt like his sides were going to burst with laughter. His fists pounded against the uniform grey floor as he rolled back and forth, his eyes stinging as tears that refused to come would have boiled from them (as it were he was drained of bodily fluids). Given the situation, the partially-sane Stephen looked to be the one who had gone up around the bend, instead of anyone else who had decided to lose control at that point -

Gone up around the bend.

Up Around The Bend. Creedence Clearwater Revival.

This discovery only brought on a new wave of laughter from the columnist. It was disconcerting.

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Christi stared in wonder, her eyes still darting around anxiously, as Leila walked over to the annoyingly reluctant Matt. Leila must have been a nice person when she was alive. Christi wouldn't have known because she barely had any true friends and those who knew her were not necessarily known by her.

Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter from Stephen interrupted her thoughts. She looked over, one eyebrow raised, as he rolled on the floor, laughing hysterically. His constant laughter started to scare her and she subconsciously realized she was taking steps towards him, then away from him, then she really started freaking out.

"Stop....stop...stop..." she muttered like an innocent child. "It's not funny.....no....not funny....nothing funny....no...he's dead...he's gone...." Christi backed up some more and stopped a little ways from the group, her eyes glazed over and wide.

Her brother...he was gone....he...wait...she she was gone. "Marcus...." she muttered, looking around. "Marcus are you here?" she said a little louder.

After stepping around in a giant circle, she abruptly stopped. Then she realized where she was. She looked around the group and turned away, embarrassed. Everyone knew of her condition, but she didn't remember of ever losing it in front of them. Had she?

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#, as written by Raijn
Rinni's eyes had gone wide, as Stephen was laughing hysterically on the floor, and Christi began muttering madly to herself, asking for someone named Marcus. She pushed herself a little away from the group before finally standing up, one arm around herself as if protecting her from an unknown force. She stared at the group, almost hoping someone among them would have something smart or helpful to say, like perhaps explain a different solution to their problem. Looking around, she realized there was little to nothing they could do, however, and she sighed quietly, hoping not to draw attention as the behaviour of the others still frightened her.

She saw Christi looking in their general direction, apparently realising what she'd been doing, while Stephen was still laughing on the floor. She looked to Leila, who was trying to persuade Matt into joining their investigation, hoping that perhaps she would have something to say about it all. It looked as if she was out of luck, however, and tried looking at the others of their minor party, hoping they could offer some wisdom. It didn't take her long to realize she was looking for answers where they could not be found. These people knew as much about what was going on as she did.
"We just need to find the murderer," she mumbled to herself, as if reassuring herself that everything would be fine, "When we find the murderer, everything will be okay," she ended, biting her lip.

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View All » Add Character » 10 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Leila Anna Scott-Smith
Character Portrait: Catherine Baker
Character Portrait: Matthew Arkwright
Character Portrait: Stephen Blackwood
Character Portrait: Christi Madone
Character Portrait: Izzy Takata

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Character Portrait: Izzy Takata
Izzy Takata

"Dissonance" was her first word, and anything with a pumping bass can get her going. A dealer in neon, eccentric and one hell of a ride! (numero uno)

Character Portrait: Christi Madone
Christi Madone

Numer Uno

Character Portrait: Stephen Blackwood
Stephen Blackwood

A scowly, angry jerk with a heart of gold. (ALSO: Numero Uno, for redundancy's sake)

Character Portrait: Matthew Arkwright
Matthew Arkwright

I am me. Numero Uno

Character Portrait: Catherine Baker
Catherine Baker

A frightened-looking young girl.

Character Portrait: Leila Anna Scott-Smith
Leila Anna Scott-Smith

A friendly, average girl with a high emotional IQ

Trending

Character Portrait: Stephen Blackwood
Stephen Blackwood

A scowly, angry jerk with a heart of gold. (ALSO: Numero Uno, for redundancy's sake)

Character Portrait: Christi Madone
Christi Madone

Numer Uno

Character Portrait: Catherine Baker
Catherine Baker

A frightened-looking young girl.

Character Portrait: Izzy Takata
Izzy Takata

"Dissonance" was her first word, and anything with a pumping bass can get her going. A dealer in neon, eccentric and one hell of a ride! (numero uno)

Character Portrait: Matthew Arkwright
Matthew Arkwright

I am me. Numero Uno

Character Portrait: Leila Anna Scott-Smith
Leila Anna Scott-Smith

A friendly, average girl with a high emotional IQ

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Izzy Takata
Izzy Takata

"Dissonance" was her first word, and anything with a pumping bass can get her going. A dealer in neon, eccentric and one hell of a ride! (numero uno)

Character Portrait: Stephen Blackwood
Stephen Blackwood

A scowly, angry jerk with a heart of gold. (ALSO: Numero Uno, for redundancy's sake)

Character Portrait: Catherine Baker
Catherine Baker

A frightened-looking young girl.

Character Portrait: Leila Anna Scott-Smith
Leila Anna Scott-Smith

A friendly, average girl with a high emotional IQ

Character Portrait: Matthew Arkwright
Matthew Arkwright

I am me. Numero Uno

Character Portrait: Christi Madone
Christi Madone

Numer Uno


Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Victims' Limbo: Out of Character

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Most recent OOC posts in Victims' Limbo

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

It's a wonderful invention - I call it time differences! :D

..Which means that in my country, the time actually was around.. 10.00 AM, possibly 11.00. And I was at school. Stealin' the internetz. 8D

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

How coherent exactly do you need to be for a mere shower? I don't even think in the shower, let alone compose roleplay posts. And unless I'm mistaken, you're in America, and Raijn's from Norway, so the time difference is about eight, nine hours? It's mid-afternoon :)

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

It's no problem, Raijn. Also, how are you coherent enough to post at a time where I'm normally barely corherent enough to stumble into the shower? (Read: 6:30 AM)

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

Woa, still here. Forget to check in quite a while, been quite busy with moving in and out of apartments, and my new place hardly has internet connection. BUT, I'm here now, and I'll try to write something. Though it wont be much, and it wont be good. 8D

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

You are the Big Damn Hero, Cypher, you really are, and you're also forgiven :) We're all real people too, as far as I know. And congrats on the leadership conference?

You guys all get privileges on any roleplay I do, for being plain awesome ^_^ And definitely go ahead and jam me onto your contact lists.

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

I'm sorry, Snow, I've been really busy lately. I got accepted into this leadership conference, so I've been busy, and other than that I've been really tired lately. My creative side hasn't been at its best, either. But I'm feeling better now, so I'll see if I can do something about this jam and be the "Big Damn Hero" one more time.

On the other hand, we should probably all add eachother to our contacts list on the site, keep in touch, just in case. I don't wanna fall out of contact with you guys; I like you all. You're awesome. Priveleged courtesies in my RPs and all that in the future.

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

Ooh, that was a bit of a whinge :o Sorry about that. Cypher's only been away for a couple of weeks, so we can be patient. I'll go and work on my zen so I won't be whining anymore :) I hope everybody else is still here and willing to stick with this so we don't, literally, leave all our characters in limbo...

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

29 days D': it's the longest gap we've had... Cypher is who we really need, I think. Where have you gone? Why am I addressing you? You're not here!

I'm tired. Sorry.

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

Sorry, Snow, I'm completely empty.. Rinni doesn't have that much to say at the moment :l

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

:/ has anybody got anything they can put? I'm a bit stuck at the moment.

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

D: THERE'S A REAL MATT? Oh jeez...

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

@Snowfall: Yes you may :D

I <3 Matt. Why do you all want to slap him ;-;

Joking. In real life I'd have slapped him already >_> Jerk.

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

Oh no you don't. You have more flashbacking to do!

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

"Split personality? I don't have that, do I Matt? <_<" -- xD Can I quote you on that? Happy days.

And Cypher, yes we are dead, but we have not yet progressed to the afterlife/Hades, so let's not become more dead than we already are, mm'kay? So stop being such a smartass.

Obviously Leila has nothing to do yet (sit, sit, sit) but I'll be keeping an eye on things. Wouldn't want to miss the inevitable slapping of douchenozzle, now, would I?

:D

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

Haha, hello, Cypher. I'm still here. I'll go check the RP, but so far I have not had a good response for Christi. She is unstable at this point, so she really can't say much or do much except blindly watch. But I'll go check the RP and see what I can do.

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

Most good writers have multiple personalities. Hell, I made mine on purpose.

Anyhow. MISTRESSDARKSTAR. YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED.

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

D: How did you find out about that?

I mean, wait, what? Split personality? I don't have that, do I Matt? <_<

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

Blame your split personality, right?

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

xD

It's not my fault that Matt's a jerk <_<

Re: [OOC] Victims' Limbo

... Siiigh. Why do I always get the skirt chasers?