Question before the Board | Failure Description |
10 - 14, 16 - 18, 20 - 22, 24, 29 - 31 | A deathly silence from the Drummer. It would appear the standing of its colleagues means little to a Prince of Hell entombed in Parabolan glass. |
15 | A silence. Has the Drummer nothing to say on the matter of its infernal colleague? Then a long drumroll begins like thunder. Is the Drummer committing to a view? Or is it relishing the humiliation of a hero of the Season of revolutions? |
19 | The sound of cannon. The scream of horses. The smell of roses that drifts along the table like perfume. Is the Drummer defending the Bishop of Southwark? |
23, 28 | The smell of burning roses pervades the boardroom, accompanied by the sound of a single drumbeat, heavy as the adumbration of a heart. The Drummer, it seems, has strong feelings on the matter of the Gondolier. |
32 | A great bang goes off like a firework or a military cannon. The sound shakes the table and breaks several glasses sat before the Board. It would appear the Drummer does not care for the removal of the Delightful Reverend. |
230, 320 | The reply comes as a rat-a-tat like an infantry's marching band, a furious refusal packaged in a threat. |
400 | Deep, discouraging thuds. It is unclear whether the Drummer objects to this particular dividend, or to the concept of human profit entirely. But it is not on your side. |
521 | A strange and sinuous series of rolling drumbeats sounds from the Drummer's empty seat. Feducci sits bolt upright, as though he recognises the tune. His feet beat of their own accord, twitching […] After a while, the Drummer ceases to play. |
522 | A lengthy series of bangs and booms goes up, […] timed to mimic the effect of an incautious personage blundering across the munition-littered battlefields of Hell. April […] scrawls a new design for a bomb, to be concealed within the skin of a drum. |
523 | A sound that sounds like the tearing of silks, the breaking of wines and the dancing of many massive legs on many tiny bottles of perfume. Virginia clenches her jaw. |
525 | A sound that sounds distinctively like a church bell falling from a high place and shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, before something large and eight-legged dances upon the shards. The Bishop of Southwark pales. |
526 | A great drum beat echoes around the room, drowning out His Amused Lordship's words. His Amused Lordship makes a face, displeased to have encountered something louder than he. |
527 | A great rolling boom such as might be made by a small boat being splintered into a dozen pieces. The Wandering Gondolier gulps. |
529 | The mocking hiss and rattle of maracas, pitched to sound almost like the triumph of snakes. The Viscountess bares her claws. |
700 - 720 | A long series of drumbeats goes out that rattle your teeth […] As violent flashes roll through your head like lightning, your bleeding ears wonder if the Drummer is performing some malevolent parody of God Save the Queen. That can't be right? Can it? |
905 | A long series of drumbeats goes out that rattle your teeth […] As violent flashes roll through your head like lightning, your bleeding ears wonder if the Drummer is performing some malevolent parody of a wedding march. That can't be right? Can it? |
940 - 941 | A single bell sounds from somewhere that feels like the base of your spine, sounding through your bones and rattling your teeth like coins in a jar. It would seem that the Drummer does not care for charity. |
1100 - 1110 | A single bell tolls, funeral and distant. The Drummer has no wish to engage with Parabola if it can avoid it. It is not, of course, afraid. Merely prudent. |
1200 | The Drummer replies with a single boom. Revolution only made things worse in Hell; perhaps it does not care to foster more Revolutionaries. |