riddlemethis-gotham-blog

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Given that my heart-rate is normal and there are no distinct signs of anxiety - or, interest, for that matter - I am going to simply dismiss your primitive suggestion of threatening me. I look forward to next time.

I’m not quite sure what part amuses me more - ‘the good name of the Falcone family’, ‘old news,’ or the part where you descend into profanities. However, I am assured that you have a natural bias in all three cases. Your throw.

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Foreign profanities. How painfully predictable from such a Neanderthal. "Monsieur is terribly melodramatic. I would mourn the loss of your intelligence if I felt there was ever any to begin with."

???

“Why, which other Holiday are you aware of, gamin? As a forensic scientist with a penchant for psychology, I believe I have the necessary grounds to declare an elusive killer ‘interesting’. But, I am deeply interested to hear what you would call him - or, her - so, by all means, go ahead.”

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

"Why, which other Holiday are you aware of, gamin? As a forensic scientist with a penchant for psychology, I believe I have the necessary grounds to declare an elusive killer 'interesting'. But, I am deeply interested to hear what you would call him - or, her - so, by all means, go ahead."

???

Another psychotic killer with a penchant for the festive season? This should be interesting.

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

I'm not quite sure what part amuses me more - 'the good name of the Falcone family', 'old news' or the part where you descend into profanities. However, I am assured that you have a natural bias in all three cases. Your throw.

Another psychotic killer with a penchant for the festive season? This should be interesting.

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

???

Another psychotic killer with a penchant for the festive season? This should be interesting.

#gotham:starter #riddle: who is Holiday?

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

It should have come as no surprise that Edward yearned to be the centre of attention - especially when the only company at hand was the brutes from the GCPD - but, those very men were the ones who chose to shun him in the first place. It was an intellectual flaw - and, one he had anticipated since the day the human race crawled out of that molten slack it originated from. People like Flass - people like Dougherty - were deluded enough to perceive themselves as powerful, intimidating men - when, really, Ed knew that the only way to truly possess power was through an exceptional brain. Now, that was something he had. The same couldn't be said for dear Officer Grayson, though - who looked more exasperated on seeing him than he would were he to encounter Cr-the Scarecrow. Such an amusing expression it was. If only Crane could see the fear he had aroused. "I wasn't aware there was an established time to wear these things," he frowned; gazing upon the Scarecrow-esque mask as though it were the first time he'd actually acknowledged it's existence. "But, I do know that you're wasting your time by lingering around here. I can't imagine you'd like Gordon on your back, now, would you?"

Open

The latest craze to have swept the GCPD concerned the super-villain known as the Scarecrow - and, while the cops scattered themselves like headless chickens across the city, Edward seemed perfectly content to make the most of a rather dismal situation.

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Never truly caring for who watched him or n...Oh, who was he kidding? Edward loved nothing more than to be the centre of attention - sans being the most intelligent man in Gotham, of course - and, to have his antics appreciated every now and then would have done him a world of good. Alas, with such a vast selection of brutes for formal company, he was never going to achieve the precinct's undivided respect and admiration. Still, at least, he'd caught the eye of the red-headed woman - who, even if she may not have been looking at him, liked to believe that she was. In acknowledgement of her observations, he gave a curt, socially-awkward nod; praying that conversation did not break out - for, how did one interact with women, exactly? Golly.

Open

The latest craze to have swept the GCPD concerned the super-villain known as the Scarecrow - and, while the cops scattered themselves like headless chickens across the city, Edward seemed perfectly content to make the most of a rather dismal situation.

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Far from being the most socially aware, Edward had been left to pace the outskirts of the latest crime scene while his fellow police officers bonded over the trivial matters that only such brutes could find appeasing. Jonathan's sudden appearance had been quite startling - almost to the point of arousing a chaste yelp - but, it was instantly replaced with a narrowed eyebrow of sheer admiration. Sly admiration at that. "I know you," he chimed; hastily depositing the mask behind his spindly back. "A-As for the police, well, they're investigating the latest victims of the Scarecrow." Another triumphant smirk. "Funny how things turn out."

Open

The latest craze to have swept the GCPD concerned the super-villain known as the Scarecrow - and, while the cops scattered themselves like headless chickens across the city, Edward seemed perfectly content to make the most of a rather dismal situation.

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Perplexed was not quite the word that Ed would have used. It simply could not be helped to under-estimate the populace of Gotham - for, how many semi-intelligent people actually lived there under his own shadow of immense genius? A pitiful amount, he would wager - and, although the proposed riddle was answered successfully, it did not contribute to his faith in finding company of similar intellect. "It seems that congratulations are in order - though, really, I shan't insult your 'intelligence' with formal applause. These sorts of riddles can be found in the pages of the simplest children's book - it is not entirely a vast accomplishment." 'Mercy'? Golly - did she star in pop-music videos alongside Hope, Grace and Innocence? What miserable parents she must have had. "If your father is to blame for the so-called-entertainment that is being streamed to the withering minds of Gotham, then, I can't say I'm in support of what he does. Nor do I have particular interest in 'powerful men' - intellect is but the ultimate power." Sparing a glance to the woman once more - perhaps, the first time he'd actually acknowledged her since crossing the line - Ed's lips seemed to quiver with a concealed smirk as the identity of his new-found companion began to feel more familiar than he had bargained for. "Oh, Holiday is quite a different kettle of fish." A-ha. Like she'd ever care to know. "But, you are not quite far off the mark there. You see, struggling is to be expected when one is being sent to their death - it is basic human instinct, after all. That's where the neck-marks comes in. And, from what I can discern, the victim was held under by the neck - but, in these cases, we do associate the deaths with respiratory impairment." A brief pause. "Say, did you know that beer has existed for over 3900 years - first dating back to Ancient Iraq? And, that it used to be made from the same properties of barley you can find today in the standard loaf of modern bread? Neat, huh?"

[ Last St. Patrick‘s Day ]

Edward’s lack of understanding when it came to conventional social norms was pitiful at the best of times - but, this was one of those times where his naïve approach to social conduct had aroused a bout of laughter from his inferiors.

Even now - just as the woman approached - he was yet to determine just what they found so amusing; but, given the time - and, the right environment - he was guaranteed answers in the end.

“Respiratory impairment,” he nodded; completely stumped by the over-enthusiastic response to his actions. One day, he’d learn to understand women. One day. For now, though, he had a riddle for her - just a basic one to keep her occupied while he tended to the body.

“You have ten fish in a tank. Two drown. Four swim away. Three die. How many fish are left?”

By this point, he’d observed her response to the corpse - noting every minor shift in her facial expression - and, officially documented all that he could on the present conditions. “Calendar Man.” A brief pause. “No-no-no: that’s not my name. That’s the name of the killer - and, I’m certainly not a killer.” Ahem.

How did this go again? Oh, yes - handshakes. “Edward. Nygma.”

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Breaking ? News

Gotham 5 News: a brief report on the downfall of Sionis' grand industries. "And, if we cut over to Jack now, we will see that-!" The screen fizzles for a moment. No, it sparks. All across the city, the television sets of the populace flicker from a primitive static to an ominous green: an imposing question-mark, no less. And, in the background? A 1920's-esque radio-jingle. Suddenly, a shaded figure appears on camera: a lanky shadow of enigmatic proportion. Beside him lies the quivering form of Jack Ryder - Gotham 5's anticipated news reader. Strapped to the confinement of a hospital bed, his head is wired up to what can only be discerned as a means of torture. Electrical torture.  "Ladies and Gentlemen; Boys and Girls; Denizens of Gotham - it is I: the Riddler - your intellectual superior." A studio audience track plays - and, the figure prepares to take a modest bow. But, instead, he slaps the hostage - of whom, did not 'applaud' when cued. "But, more importantly, I am the man who will end the miserable existence of your beloved reporter should the intellect of this morbid city be as pitiful as I anticipate." Across the bottom of the screen, a number appears - quite like one would expect when voting for a television contest. The same number appears on all the monitors behind the bizarre set-up. "Should you fail to answer this primitive excuse of a riddle - which, I can guarantee, you shall - Mr. Ryder shall experience mental stimulation the likes of which he has never encountered before." And, with this, the figure took up a cane-like accessory - topped with a similar question mark to the one dominating the entire room. "Riddle me this, Gotham."  "A woman has two sons. They were born on the same year - and, the same day - and, the same hour. But, they are not twins. How can this be?" "Summon the effort to perform the oh-so-tedious task of dialling this number and you may well - a-ha - save this squirming gentleman's life. Do not take haste - no payment is required; being as it is unlikely any of you slobs actually make anything. And, with this grand computer network of mine, we shall all see together just how intelligent the people of Gotham really are."

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Open

The latest craze to have swept the GCPD concerned the super-villain known as the Scarecrow - and, while the cops scattered themselves like headless chickens across the city, Edward seemed perfectly content to make the most of a rather dismal situation.

#edimpersonatingcrane #someonestophim #screwthat #someonehughim #gotham:starter

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Edward's lack of understanding when it came to conventional social norms was pitiful at the best of times - but, this was one of those times where his naïve approach to social conduct had aroused a bout of laughter from his inferiors. Even now - just as the woman approached - he was yet to determine just what they found so amusing; but, given the time - and, the right environment - he was guaranteed answerers in the end. "Respiratory impairment," he nodded; completely stumped by the over-enthusiastic response to his actions. One day, he'd learn to understand women. One day. For now, though, he had a riddle for her - just a basic one to keep her occupied while he tended to the body. ? "You have ten fish in a tank. Two drown. Four swim away. Three die. How many fish are left?" ? By this point, he'd observed her response to the corpse - noting every minor shift in her facial expression - and, officially documented all that he could on the present conditions. "Calendar Man." A brief pause. "No-no-no: that's not my name. That's the name of the killer - and, I'm certainly not a killer." Ahem. How did this go again? Oh, yes - handshakes. "Edward. Nygma."

[ Last St. Patrick‘s Day ]

Given that Edward was only supposed to be looking over the crime-scene to acquire a brief set of details, the examination should have ended a considerable time ago. But, as fate would have it - or, the uncanny distraction the corpse provided - he had spent the past forty minutes rambling on about the significance of alcohol in various ancient cultures; and, had even taking to wearing one of the authentic shamrocks on his lapel - of which, had been stitched onto the victim’s exposed flesh. It was a generous addition to his outfit.

In those forty minutes of ceaseless conundrums and rhetorical questions, he had toyed with calling Penelope a number of times - well, twice, actually, but, that was still a number greater than one, yes? The cops lining the scene almost possessed the level of brain activity that the stiff did - and, she’d have made a wonderful means to vent all of his knowledge on. “Superstition is a remarkable concept, isn’t it, Mr. Doe? In the end, the fabled shamrock did you no favours except putting you out of inevitable misery. Don’t believe in what you can’t see, John. Thank it.”  By this point, Edward had become aware of a distinct voice on the horizon - a voice so distracting that it paralysed his finger just as it was about to hit ‘dial’. “The cute one?” he hummed; concluding that this must have been referring to him. After all, there were only three people present at the scene - well, a departed fourth. Scrambling to his feet - making every effort to brush himself down - his gaze focused upon the woman, and, without thinking, signalled for the cops to let her pass. Damned Neanderthals. “It’s perfectly alright, gentlemen. She is with me.”

#youpreciouslittle

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Given that Edward was only supposed to be looking over the crime-scene to acquire a brief set of details, the examination should have ended a considerable time ago. But, as fate would have it - or, the uncanny distraction the corpse provided - he had spent the past forty minutes rambling on about the significance of alcohol in various ancient cultures; and, had even taking to wearing one of the authentic shamrocks on his lapel - of which, had been stitched onto the victim's exposed flesh. It was a generous addition to his outfit. In those forty minutes of ceaseless conundrums and rhetorical questions, he had toyed with calling Penelope a number of times - well, twice, actually, but, that was still a number greater than one, yes? The cops lining the scene almost possessed the level of brain activity that the stiff did - and, she'd have made a wonderful means to vent all of his knowledge on. "Superstition is a remarkable concept, isn't it, Mr. Doe? In the end, the fabled shamrock did you no favours except putting you out of inevitable misery. Don't believe in what you can't see, John. Thank it."  By this point, Edward had become aware of a distinct voice on the horizon - a voice so distracting that it paralysed his finger just as it was about to hit 'dial'. "The cute one?" he hummed; concluding that this must have been referring to him. After all, there were only three people present at the scene - well, a departed fourth. Scrambling to his feet - making every effort to brush himself down - his gaze focused upon the woman, and, without thinking, signalled for the cops to let her pass. Damned Neanderthals. "It's perfectly alright, gentlemen. She is with me."

[ Last  St. Patrick‘s Day ]

St. Patrick’s Day - a cause for global celebration to commemorate the life of an Irish saint. But, for Edward, the evening had been plagued with tangible anticipation. Why? Well, the scheduled actions of a lunatic, of course!

Crossing over to the body in question - a member of Black Mask’s crew, no less - the covert’s excitement was almost too great for him to operate his recording device. “Tuesday - 17th of March. Victim has sustained no visible entry wounds nor severe bruising - but, there appears to be strangulation marks around the base of the neck.” A brief chuckle. “Oh, and, he appears to have drowned in a vat of celebratory beer. Don’t you just love the holidays?”

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

Even though it was not their place of expertise, the officers who cordoned off the streets were drawn to the excitable attitude of Edward who responded to the corpse as though it were Christmas. If this was what Julian got up to on St. Patrick's Day, then, damn, he had a lot to look forward to when the festive season dawned. By this point, he was reciting the properties of the alcohol at hand as though it were as simple as the alphabet - and, was headed down another tangent just as Penelope's texts were received. "I'll be with you in a moment, chum," he chirped; awkwardly patting down the deceased's shoulder as though it were a brotherly gesture. Truth be told, he wasn't expecting much - something trivial, perhaps - but, was that...a riddle? A primitive attempt, albeit - but, a riddle none the less. And, the recording device had just caught the vast array of gasps and exclamations that came with it. "Penelope Bishop, you are good." For a brief moment, he pivoted sharply upon one heel - waving the phone into the air so that the distant officers could 'see'. "You could learn something from this, you know! You could even gain some IQ points over a few decades - even-though-everyone-knows-only-talking-to-yourself-achieves-that..." Lowering his tone once more - the glances saying it all - he turned back to the crude scene and set the phone down upon the pavement. Should he call her? No. That would be too awkward. Too sociable. "It looks like it's just you and me tonight, Mr. Doe," he chuckled; briefly dabbing a drop of the alcohol upon his tongue to detect for...something. But, all that achieved was copious amounts of gagging. "Eurgh...How do you drink this stuff? 'course, you didn't drink it - you drowned in it - but, hey, there's a first for everything, right?" Brief silence. Stiffs were no fun.

[ Last  St. Patrick‘s Day ]

St. Patrick’s Day - a cause for global celebration to commemorate the life of an Irish saint. But, for Edward, the evening had been plagued with tangible anticipation. Why? Well, the scheduled actions of a lunatic, of course!

Crossing over to the body in question - a member of Black Mask’s crew, no less - the covert’s excitement was almost too great for him to operate his recording device. “Tuesday - 17th of March. Victim has sustained no visible entry wounds nor severe bruising - but, there appears to be strangulation marks around the base of the neck.” A brief chuckle. “Oh, and, he appears to have drowned in a vat of celebratory beer. Don’t you just love the holidays?”

[riddlemethis-gotham-blog]

???

St. Patrick's Day - a cause for global celebration to commemorate the life of an Irish saint. But, for Edward, the evening had been plagued with tangible anticipation? Why? Well, the scheduled actions of a lunatic, of course! Crossing over to the body in question - a member of Black Mask's crew, no less - the covert's excitement was almost too great for him to operate his recording device. "Tuesday - 17th of March. Victim has sustained no visible entry wounds nor severe bruising - but, there appears to be strangulation marks around the base of the neck." A brief chuckle. "Oh, and, he appears to have drowned in a vat of celebratory beer. Don't you just love the holidays?"

#gothamstarter #openrp #look at this guy #calander man