Murder Mystery: Curse of the Golden Camel

carpocrates

Baron von Westerhazy awoke one sickly white morning to find himself neither ready or willing to get up out of bed. This may or may not have had something to do with his massive 18 stone bodymass lurking beneath the covers, the sweat which the weight induced everynight, leaking from every pore, sticking him to his sheets, not to mention his bed, and his nightclothes. He had had a wife at some stage alright, she had made it as far as 16 stone. Then there were whores, but none of them made it past 17.
As it stood, all he had to look forward to was his breakfast. A fatted boar on a spit, 7 Vienneese sausages, a half turkey, a McDonalds breakfast and a diet coke. He rang his bell for Routledge to come and unstick him from his sheets and take his order. But,for the first time in 16 years, no one answered.

He rang again. Still not a peep. He managed to sit himself up in his bed to try and get a look out the sliver of window he could see from his bed...

funky penguin

...but no luck. The view was only a glimpse of the cold grey sky looming as a loomer would loom on the loomiest day of the loomiest month.
Westerhazy was still trying to hold himself in a sitting position in bed, but was finding it difficult. Years of glutteny, booze and that damn gravity caused him to flop unceremoniously back, smacking his massive head off the oak frame of his four poster.
'Christ!', he bellowed, rubbing his now tender crown. Where was that blasted Routledge? Probably off rodgering the scullery maid, he thought. Or the stable boy.
People often say good help is hard to find, but Westerhazy knew better. Good help is in abundance, it's keeping them alert and on a leash that's the problem.
He was sweating even more now, and his head ached horribly. There was nothing for it - he was going to have to get up himself.
So, he took a couple of deep, wheezing breathes, readying for the push, when suddenly, from the grounds.....

carpocrates

...there came an eerie whimpering whinging kind of girly simper. It sounded like it was emanating straight from the lawn in front of his window. He managed to heave his gargantuan 18 stone body across the carpet, which, now that he thought about it wasn't actually so grotesquely fat as he had imagined, and, as he gnawed on the curtain for want of anything else to eat, he found himself almost choking on the delicate Avignon lace.
There, before his eyes, shimmering up from the grass appeared an apparition of a man in long robes, with long hair and a beard. Light streamed from every orifice, so far as he could see, and lambs and small forest animals had come for miles to bask in his radiant warmth. Sparrows sang overhead, but the mysterious man ignored all of them, looking only at Westerhazy, directly into his eyes and gesturing with his pinctured hands. "Avenge my death" the strange figure almost moaned... "Avenge my death!!" and with that, disappeared, leaving all the animals quite upset and looking at each other for a scapegoat.

funky penguin

.......Fortuately, they did, and ironically, it was the goat which began munching away on a nearby rose bed. Westerhazy rubbed his eyes in disbelief. It had to be his imagination, he thought. Surely it was the early morning effect of a heavy nights drinking? Perhaps. But for now, a strong mug of Double Mocha Frappawappachinno was in order.
Waddling down is grand staircase into the entrance hall of his equally grand mansion, Westerhazy gazed across the walls and smirked in triumph at the many fine paintings on them. Minnet, Picyouraso, Da Man, and an exquiset stulpture of a girraffe by none other than Splinter.
There was one oddity within the hall however, and it caused Westerhazy to gasp in fear, and nearly lose his dressing gown.......

Shad0r

Meanwhile in a place not as far away as it was different, an old man shuffled around an old wooden table. It occupied the center of a dimly lit dingy room; the only light coming in sharp beams through the wooden slats of a boarded over skylight in the low ceiling. Dust motes belied the true nature of the place as they drifted peacefully down towards the floor, but this place was no sanctuary of serenity.

The old fella coughed suddenly through his ragged breathing and hacked out a huge gob of phlem onto the floor. Tittering hysterically to himself he grabbed one of the grimy machetes on the table and started to hack at the...

OFDM

...groteque hairy mole on his left knee, stubborn in it's determination not to be removed under any circumstances. Just then he saw in the reflection of the blade the disgusting gob of phlem he had coughed up only moments before begin to move.

Startled he dropped the machette, almost cutting off one of his toes. He looked at the phlem as it grew, expanding in all directions until it stood 3 feet tall.

The old man stared at the disgusting blob, unable to move. Then a face of an old man began to form in the ever-growing phlem blob. Suddenly it spoke:
"Avenge my death"

Meanwhile Westerhazy stood frozen in hall. Fear had taken over his body. What was this mysterious creature before him?

DubTony

"Routledge?" he asked, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, a trickle of drool slowly running down the left side of his chin. "Is that you?"

His trusted servant stood before him, hunched over and leaning to his left, his shirt and trousers covered in blood. He seemed to sway slowly from side to side, with a rhythm that made Westerhazy think of that Stevie Wonder song, about calling someone to tell them he loved them.

In Routledge's left hand, hanging by his side and also covered in blood, was what appeared to be the skin of an animal. When Westerhazy saw what Routledge held in the crook of his right arm, the contents of his stomach erupted into his throat and he threw up the ingredients of his midnight snack. The sight before his eyes was just too much at this early hour. He vomited again. This time with less ferocity; or distance. He'd never before seen a man carry ...