It is a truth universally acknowledged that an avocado accused of murder must be in want of a spouse. To this end, the inhabitants of A– eagerly gathered at the estate of Miss Persephone in celebration of her Tranniversary one early March night. She spent winter in London and travelled to Bath in the spring; there was no country hall with as much culture and fashion of that of Miss Persephone. It was the perfect place to find an eligible suitor, and was the best time for a ball if one wanted a quick engagement and a fashionable wedding. One with accomplishments, large sums of money, or simply having the fortune to be born one of the best people, would find their dance card quickly full from a host of eligible bachelors. Or so Mrs. Bennett informed you, when you wandered through the rooms looking for knives, ominous hanging chandeliers, and other murder weapons you feared the guests might use on you. You helped yourself to a cool and refreshing glass of sherbet while so-and-so’s adequately accomplished daughter almost played the pianoforte well.
The look must have shown on your face, for a very eligible suitor indeed wandered over, helping themselves to their own glass of sherbet.
“I find the country so dull,” They sighed, shaking their head, “and the company so poor in comparison to London. From your expression, I know you to feel the same.”
Your cheeks colour, being the perfect platonic ideal of an Austen heroine (even you deedy) as you consider the impoliteness of the introduction. The home is lovely, a polished and dignified country estate that has belonged to your dear friend’s family for generations. There is talk even of an attic haunting in the dreary fall. It could be almost gothic, the height of sensibility, and yet here they stand, as if they do not spend their time in London in the boarding houses in the less fashionable districts. You wonder how Persephone could stand to invite them to such a gathering, before remembering that as this is the Internet, anyone could have shown up.
“I find London to be a dirty place full of terrible people I have no desire to keep company with. I am here for the sherbet, and-”
But before you can say anything about the murder, a scream comes from the staircase. You and your new acquaintance rush to the marbled hall and find a servant’s corpse splayed in an undignified and improper manner- the horror of finding yourself displayed so immodestly causes you pain while you consider the situation. It is too late; you have missed the murder entirely and now must settle only for the party.
Mischief & Murder- A Jane Austen Novel is a werewolf game for 17-23 players. Applicants must be in possession of fortunes, accomplished, and the very best people, as only Avocadoes can be. They must also be unmarried in their roleplays, or have forgiving partners who allow for polygamy.
There will be no further discussion of roles at this time; for such matters would be impolite in mixed company, and also, someone has just been murdered.
- DW- Peter B. Parker
- Colonel Mustard whose time it is to shine there are so many Colonels in Austen novels it was like the one rank she knew
- Miss Rim
- Emm but I wrote it on my notepad really badly and spent five minutes squinting trying to figure out who from CNN commented here. Rachel Maddow, that you?
- Fig Plucker
- Dave Killsock
- RPC, who I still typed as RHCP at first despite NOT EVEN LIKING THEM AS A BAND
- Britta Bot
- ….if anyone else would like to join…..