Blood Moon Rising

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by YuriLucien, Feb 5, 2015.

  1. Blood Moon Rising

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    In 1907, Werewolves are more than just cursed men who change into beasts by the touch of moonlight. The power of their transformation is so magnetic that the elements around them—be it leaves, wood or metal—are pulled into twisting the Werewolves’ final forms. The environment has such a heavy influence during the transformation that the proclaimed “Werewolves” appear more as monsters made of fur, claws, fangs and elements than they do actual wolves. Only the light of the sun can shed away their heinous forms and restore them back to man.
    However, mankind has more than to fear than Werewolves alone. The world is plagued by Witches, Eaters and Ghouls. The mundane have placed their hopes within the community of Hunters and Healers.

    The events take place in the Town of Eardwulf in southern England. The townspeople woke to a foggy morning where, much to their horror, in the center of town hung a Werewolf with innards spilling to the stone pathway. Leaves and copper were entangled in the dark grey fur. The beast’s teeth and claws were made of copper. Where the eyeballs had once been were replaced by hollowed sockets emitting smoke. It was as though while the creature had been alive its eyes were made of flame. As the hanging atrocity spun ever so slowly, the cavity where its organs had been held the bones and skulls of children. Not chewed nor digested in the least.


    Sign Ups here: https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/blood-moon-rising-ooc.96163/
     
  2. Inspector Rumancek, white
    Eardwulf, London. 4:45p.m.

    The heavy, gloomy fog that floated along the road seemed to act a cloak for the town of Eardwulf. By the time the London Inspector and his crew finally drove into the town, only a few gas-lamps could be seen in the distance. The evening before their arrival the Head Officer of Eardwulf had sent message for assistance. The cabin rocked back and forth down the stone path as Inspector Rumancek repeated read the letter. His assistant Officer peered at him every few minutes with a sigh. His team had been skeptical about a real werewolf being hung upside down with the bones of children place inside its hollowed out gut.
    “Inspector, we’re almost upon the town,” the driver called out, easing the horses. Rumancek rubbed his short gray hair before slipping his brown fedora back on. His aged, silver eyes glared through the fog beyond the window. As they strolled into town, the Eardwulf Force was ready to greet them.
    The Inspector cleared his throat, struggling to breathe through the dense fog. His squinted through the heavy air, faces of worried townspeople could be seen.
    “Inspector,” the officers approached the weathered professional, “Sorry to summon you on such short notice.”
    “Not at all,” Rumancek’s eyes shifted from spectator to spectator, “Show me your beast.”
    “Wouldn’t you best shown where the Eardwulf Inn is?” a foot patrolmen offered, only to receive a look of disdain from his commanding officer, who spoke in rebuttal, “Surely Inspector Rumancek doesn not need guide of his actions.”
    The foot patrolman’s lips quivered and he nodded, “Of course, yes’sir.”
    “Right this way, Inspector,” the head officer nodded, taking the journeyman through the fog and to the middle of town.
    “Your townsfolk are rather spooked,” one of Rumancek’s men noted. The Eardwulf officer nodded, “You’re soon to find out why.”
    It was in the center of town that the London officers nearly jumped out of their skins—all but Rumancek and his right-hand man. A loud burst of mumbles and whispers filled the air. Many officers raised handkerchiefs to cover their mouths.
    “It is…” Eardwulf Officer’s voice shook, “Isn’t it?”
    Rumancek’s cold, grey eyes stared back into the small town policeman, “I will need a list of Eardwulf’s residents.”
     
  3. "Arabelle!" a voice sounded, cutting through her sleep. She sat up blearily, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "What?" she called back, shivering as her feet touched the cold stone floor. With a loud creak she opened the heavy wooden door that separated her small room from the hallway.

    Ara jumped as she saw the other girl standing with a frightened expression right outside the door. "There's been a disturbance in the town," the girl said breathlessly. Ara mentally groaned. Of course there was. Probably some cat chasing invisible mice who was 'possessed'.

    "And I suppose I'm wanted?" she asked tiredly. The younger girl nodded. "Thank you, Edith," Ara said, dismissing her before shutting the door and beginning to efficiently get dressed. She had no idea what time it was, but it was currently her rest period and whatever had happened was disturbing it. Once she had slipped on her boots and tied her hair up Ara stepped back out into the hallway and began quickly walking down the long stone corridor. She nodded to the people she passed, but kept up her quick pace, not stopping to talk to anyone. Finally she reached a large room with high, narrow windows. The only light came from several braziers set in the corners and a few candles around a small statue of the Savior.

    "You summoned me, Father?" Arabelle asked, dipping her head in respect.

    The old man nodded. His wrinkled face, usually set in a serene smile, was creased with worry. "There's been a disturbance in the village. The devil's work, or something akin to it. We must work quickly."

    Ara nodded, fingering her bottle of holy water in one of the deep pockets of her habit. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, her voice solemn.
     
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  4. Where is that damned boy? 2:30, Perrin had said. 2:30, bright and early every morning if Charlie wanted the job. And five times this month he was late. Probably eyein' the stable girl again. Sighing, Perrin scratched his beard and got up from the piece of wood he called his table. No time to wait today. Bloody boy's just going to have to work harder tonight. Too many orders today to start late. Mostly repairs, of course. The barren rock that the farmers called soil was hell on a hoe or plow.

    "Let's see. Thornton." A wrapped package lay on a rack in the far corner, James Thornton's name stenciled clearly on the outside. Tearing the thin paper, Perrin grimaced. "Told the bloody bastard to keep it oiled in the winter. Oiled, not bleedin' salted." The pitchfork's tines were broken, and the metal that connected it to the handle was corroded. There were clear signs of rust all over.

    "Hmm. Might as well just start over. And I'll skewer Thornton with it myself if he's bullheaded enough to not listen twice." Perrin tossed the pieces into a stone bowl and thrust it into the dark forge, and made for the bellows after he lit the coals. He lost himself in the rhythm of the pumps. 1...2...3...4... His mind drifted, to days past and present. ...5...6...7... To darkened nights and the moons that illuminated them. 20...21...22... By God, the moon. 35...37...44... It was the sudden blast of flame from the forge that brought him back to reality, and sudden anger when he realized how hot it had become was. It was another hour till the iron melted. Perrin had the mold ready and poured the molten metal steadily, careful to not let too much, if any, trickle off the side. By 3:45, the mold had hardened, at which point Perrin hammered the points down a tad finer and sanded the rougher edges to a fine polish, then stuck it back in the heat. He was nailing the tool back together when Charlie rushed into the room.

    "Master Blackwood, sir, are you all... Right?" Perrin shoved the fork into the table and angrily approached the boy.

    "Bloody hell, boy! I say at the break of dawn you are to be here, and here you come two hours later! The gall!" Charles Hamilton was hardly a boy, nearly into manhood. But he acted like a fool, and deserved no more respect than a babe. But he was far from denial or excuses today.

    "Haven't you heard, sir? Have you not been outside today?"

    "God, no! I've too much to do! As do you, for that matter." A whisper tugged at the back of his mind, of a pained howl in the night, and of what may had been a scream in the midmorning, drowned out by the hiss of cooling metal and the pounding of a hammer on metal.

    "Master Blackwood, sir! One of the dogs is dead!" Perrin sniffed at the term "dog". He hated the use of it, as if a hound of the night were a domestic pet. But the death of one of them? Perrin knew most of the people of Eardwulf well, and he thought he knew most of the wolves in town. The idea that one of them were dead...

    He grabbed Charlie, not too roughly, by the shirt collar. "Where?"

    "T-t-town square, s-s-sir! I'll show you!" Perrin released the boy and pushed him towards the forge.

    "I know my bleeding way through my own damned town. You're staying here, and working back those hours you've missed." He grabbed the large hammer hanging on the wall near him and shoved it into Charlie's hands. "Missus Kessler's silverware needs straightening." He strolled out of the smithy, grinning against his will at the look on the poor lad's face. Heaven knows I've taught that fool boy nothing if he tries using that hammer on silverware...

    ***
    It couldn't be said that Perrin arrived at the scene of the incident. Rather, he stepped out the door and ran into a crowd of people, all leading up to the square. Most moved out of the way as the blacksmith moved forward, a bit intimidated by his size. The lampposts were barely enough to light the thin dawn with all the fog, and Perrin stumbled over somebody in his path more often than not. He was stopped by a rather diminutive looking man, but dressed in uniform at that. A soft "Please step away" was all that was said, and was all that was needed.

    But it didn't stop him from seeing the... Murder. More like a bloody slaughter. And an emphasis on bloody. It was all he could do for Perrin not to gasp. He daren't look too long at it for fear of losing his scarce breakfast all over the policeman. But he looked long enough to see the leaves and the cross, and not to mention the horrible wounds. Poor fellow had died while transformed, and it was clear that he had been exposed in the forest. I get the sudden feeling that I underappreciate my storeroom. But the face... The other details he gathered were hazy or cloaked in shadow, and he thanked the Trinity for that. But the godforsaken face. A snout bashed in, teeth hanging seemingly by threads, and eyes that may once have burned with the fires of Old Nick himself. It took all his will not to stare at the stomach and to not wonder what those shapes inside were. Instead, he looked at the officer and asked "Who could have done this?"
     
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  5. Memoria's upper body laid against the back side of a jet black horse. a brush still in her hand the barefooted girl was sleeping soundly. a foul,waiting to be fed,nudged memoria causing her to fall. her eyes snapped open as she gave a short yelp. she sat up looking at the foul with a look of disbelief. the foul stood up slightly on his hind legs letting out a whiny.

    "okay okay.calm down let me get finished with old charlie here."

    she stood up laughing. she picked the brush up and continued her work. memoria song as she always did when she worked as she made the mash. she fed the horses talking to each one as if they were long time friends. the horses now groomed and fed she walked to the willow by the stable. placing on her shoes she started her walk to town. it was rather quiet, a eery silence that she just now noticed. she made her way into town center,notice the uneasiness in the air.

    "what happened......"
     
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  6. Having been in the field of criminal investigation for countless decades, Rumancek knew better than to order the townspeople to back away from the scene, unlike the towns’ officers. Curiosity of man would always overpower their will to look away, thus he had given up. He slipped his gloves on and neared the hanging body, meanwhile his right-hand man, Knox, handled the questions with the Eardwulf police. Both the London specialist would need to meet with the Lord of Eardwulf Abbey, but that could be done later. Before he could even stir a piece of fur of the old beast, an elderly gentleman caught his attention.

    Rumancek raised one black and grey brow to the man of great stature, “Surely someone, or something, quite mad, but uncovering the whole truth is what I am here to do.” The Inspector looked the man up and down as he stood up straight. It appeared the town had a blacksmith with years behind him, “You’re a blacksmith, I take it? Must have quite some knowledge of how to make great use of those hands.”

    “I certainly hope you don’t intend interrogating without some surveillance from the authorities of Eardwulf,” The voice was velvet and spoke each word as if they were made of glass. The Inspector turned to see a young man dressed in a fine cotton suit with the top button of his shirt undone. His hair held some curl to it and his eyes were sharp as shears.

    “You must be Judge Colton’s boy. I was warned about you,” Rumancek cleared his throat, mentally cursing the humidity. His tone was stern, lips pulled into a frown, “I do pray that you don’t intend to prevent my investigation?”

    Alistair Baines laughed, placing his arms behind his back, “I take it my father and his fellow elder judges played a hand in writing the letter to London. And I pray that you don’t intend on spewing false accusations and intimidating every poor soul that crosses your path.” Judge Alistair beamed, showing off his white teeth and wide smile, “This here is Mr. Blackwood, and rather our saving grace. He has been a trustworthy resident and worker. Far from someone who would use their hands for…” He motioned to the atrocity before them, “Such evil that this is.”

    Rumancek lifted a thick brow at Perrin Blackwood, lips parted in that permanent frown, “I assume you’ve had the company of many others from town, then?” He slipped his gloves off without unlocking eye contact with the Scottish man, “How well acquainted are you with your customers?

    “Wouldn’t you find a systematic questioning preferred?” Alistair’s smile faded and he glanced at Mr. Blackwood for a tick. Rumancek pocketed his gloves, finally dropping eye contact briefly and then turned to face the hanging monster, “I dare say was for fun’s sake, boy. This is a statement—one that holds clean skulls and bones children.”

    “I am aware th—“ Alistair was quickly cut off as Rumancek turned to him and closed the gap between them, “The faster I solve this, the better chance of saving a child from having their skeleton on display.”

    The young judge swallowed hard, smile completely washed away, and watched Rumancek returned his cold gaze to Mr. Blackwood. The Inspector stretched out a weather hand, eyes locked with the blacksmith’s, “Inspector Rumancek.”
     
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  7. "Bloody Hell..." Jacob muttered under his breath at the sight of the dead beast. Sure, he'd heard something bad had happened before he came here, but he never would have imagined anything like this.

    When he had heard that the Head Inspector had been summoned to Eardwulf on a werewolf case, Jacob had planned on doing everything short of begging and bribery to convince Rumancek to allow him to come with the group. Fortunately for him, it didn't take much to convince the Inspector. He at least made sure his family would know where he was going before he left.
    The ride there had been fairly silent and uneventful, but he had managed to keep himself preoccupied with his thoughts until they got there. He listened to the sound of the horses' hooves on the road and thought about the werewolf and how much confidence they could actually put in this story from Eardwulf. Then again, he wasn't sure that anyone would make up such a story if they summoned officers from London. It'd be a terrible waste of time if they did.

    Now that they had arrived, he found it hard to believe the sight in front of him. There was one of the beasts - a werewolf- just as they had described it, if not more gruesome. He wasn't sure what to make of it, and for a while he was left speechless. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one surprised by this, as a lot of the passerby seemed to be as well.

    His thoughts were interrupted by a small confrontation between the Inspector and another young man, apparently a judge. He listened in as he knelt down to observe the cadaver,and the bones within it, making sure not to touch anything. Then he stood up.

    "Well, I believe we should start with a list of all the children who have gone missing in the area over the past two or so weeks. Maybe even a month." He said to himself, the Inspector, or really any of the officers who might have been listening.
     
    #7 EchoRun, Feb 6, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 6, 2015
  8. Arabelle smoothed out her dress and began walking calmly towards the throng of people, looking back over her shoulder once more at the carriage. This was probably a test, she knew, but she had done several things like this before. Her skirts swished around her as she moved, interspersed with the faint clinking of the bottles in her small bag she carried. "Pardon me," she said softly, beginning to inch her way through the group of people. They slowly parted for her, allowing her to reach the center of the circle.

    She immediately wished she could dive back into the crowd and hide when she saw the spectacle. Bile rose in her throat and her bag clattered to the hard, cobbled ground. Ara held her breath trying to remain calm. She had an image to maintain, after all, but she couldn't stop her face from paling to an unnatural shade. At least I'm not fainting, she thought wryly, clenching her hands on her skirt. She probably should be addressing the men who looked like they were in charge, but at this point she didn't trust herself to talk.
     
  9. memoria stood frozen at the sight before her. she moved a little closer,looking more nervous then concerned.

    "this is going to cause trouble"

    she sighed shaking her head. she looked at the blacksmith,over hearing the suspicion the officers made. he was a little rough on the edges but memoria was sure he was just a sweetheart underneath. 'his aprretence is rather cute."memoria was lost in her thoughts for a moment when a voice caught her attention. Her eyes fell on the man that had appeared and she was frozen in that moment. her head tilted to the side slightly,she had never seen him around before. Well she doesn't notice much of anything besides the horses and the blacksmith. memoria continued her stare,it was as if she was trying to figure him out. Something about him was different he seemed.......kind. memoria wasn't use to kindness,mainly others trying to conform her. memoria soon realized her silliness,picturing how she must look right now. here she stood a young girl with bruised legs and hay in her hair looking dumbfounded at this man as if she never saw a person before.

    "alister baines..." just saying his name felt out of place. In the back of her mind she knew he was just like the rest, uptight probably another conformist to add on her list. she recalled her last words with her mother the day before.

    "when are you going to start acting like a proper lady. No man will marry you when you behave so savage." he mother was scolding her again,this time the fight started because memoria had torn her dress.

    "i could never love a man who would fall for a proper lay mother. It would all be a lie."

    "its not about love you dimwitted child. its about you having an easier life. All love is a lie,you think i love your father?!"

    Memoria stood in a daze,lost in her own world. she became unaware of the things around her staring blankly ahead,swimming in her thoughts.
     
  10. Alistair Baines, purple

    Alistair allowed himself to step back once the Inspector expressed a sense of civility, and two people caught his eye: Sister Arabelle and Memoria, Horse-care taker. Before he could decide who to approach, Officer Knox walked up to Sister Arabelle. Alistair straightened his back and made his way through the crowd to Memoria, who seemed in a daze from the massacre before them. He had wished the public did not have to witness the brutal murder.

    Upon approaching the young woman and gave a slight bow, “Ms. Nikki, hello.” He did not wear hat and thus he pretended to take one off and bow with it. His smile was wide as he stood up straight, “I’m sorry you have to see such a thing.”
    He watched Knox and the London police try to pry answers out of anyone near the crime scene. He grimaced, “This is quite a disaster.”

    Watching the Inspector and his crew work did not bring the young Judge at ease. They appeared rash and ready to prosecute. In spite of being the ‘youngin’, Alistair had been exposed to the truths of witches and wondered if one had been the painter of the image before them. The elders had mentioned that the wolves would be sent to the moors before long. He hoped it was a falsity.

    “Do you find it a hoax?” He suddenly asked Memoria, looking to meet her eyes, “Or are you convinced of the supernatural now?”



    Officer Knox, green
    Dealing with crowd control had been a wrestling match enough, but when the talented officer set his eyes on a woman of God, he knew what to do next. The Lord was going to be their best asset in battling the devil, and he had no reason to hold back. The woman appeared disturbed, but he had a hunch she could probably handle as much as he. In a small town such as Eardwulf, he was almost certain she had performed exorcisms and house-calls.

    Knox tilted his hat to Sister Arabelle, “G’day, ma’am. How do you find yourself t’day?” He slightly ushered her away from the grotesque scene, “Might I ask, is this the first you’ve seen of this brutality?”

    The trip from London had been long and spending a moment with a woman of God took the edge off. Knox had never been into the nightlife and appreciated the devotion to God. After all, He gave them all life and all they did was waste it.

    “Pardon me, I’m known as Knox,” he tipped his hat to her, ready to take her hand.



    Inspector Rumancek, white

    Jacob’s assessment forced the Inspector to glance over his shoulder and take note of the young man’s impression. Interrogating was useful, but searching out the missing children would be a good lead. If children had recently been missing from Eardwulf, it would have been the talk of the day, but months past… Jacob had something there. Rumancek looked met Jacob’s eyes for a moment, “Please, Mr. Kilder, do as you see fit.”

    Truly it was an honor to have the head Commissioner accept and applaud your decisions, but Rumancek was above all that. Politics meant nothing to him.. He wanted monsters dead. If Jacob Kilder was ready, he would allow him lenience on investigating.
     
    #10 YuriLucien, Feb 7, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 7, 2015
  11. Perrin accepted the inspector's hand and shook, perhaps a bit too roughly. "Perrin Blackwood. Best to get this over with quickly, aye? I've nothing to hide." His mind was racing. Damn me to hell, I don't, do I?

    Last night was mostly a blur. The transformations always were. He'd learned to fight them, but despised the pain of it. Instead, Perrin had converted his basement into a sort of prison. It was locked from the outside, the door made of some solid steel, and the key was always hidden somewhere in the room. As if a werewolf needed a key. Every day he'd awaken in a pile of stones and fur, shocked to find the gouges on the door deeper than the last. Each moonlit night he feared that he would not get to the room in time, or worse, that he'd break out.

    But this couldn't be his work. Too organized. The bones were placed. They couldn't have stayed in the stomach if it had been torn open. It couldn't have been one of us. It couldn't be... Snapping out of his gore-filled imagination, Perrin looked at Rumancek again, noticing him speak sideways towards another detective. "Dammit man, are you going to get on with it?" It might not be the best idea to speak so carelessly to one such as Rumancek. But Perrin's patience was wearing thin with all this going on.
     
  12. memoria snapped out of her daze to find the man who put her their standing before her. she couldn't help but give a soft smile, after receiving the one he gave. he knew her,that wasn't a surprise. who hasn't heard the rumors of her. Yet if he had heard them,or believed them, he surely wouldn't title her ms would he? memoria let her eyes wonder,she never was a person to lie while looking into their eyes.


    "supernatural? like monsters of the night,mystical creatures? I have read them in stories but never thought of them as being true." she looked back at alister meeting his gaze. her eyes were full of mischief yet her smile innocent.

    "and what of you Judge Baines? Do you believe in monsters?"
     
    #12 aja maji, Feb 7, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 9, 2015
  13. She opted to firmly shake his hand and gave him a small smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir, though under very unfortunate circumstances, I'm afraid." Ara looked back towards the wolf corpse and wrinkled her nose. "I'm Sister Arabelle. Father Alberic sent me in his place to observe what is going on, and see what needs to be done." She knelt to pick up her bag, checking inside briefly to see if anything had broken.

    "This is the first I've seen of this certain... situation, but I've seen others in the past. Not nearly as grotesque as this one, however." She crossed herself and shivered slightly. Whoever did this did not do it for good, they had committed a heinous act of violence. "Justice must be dispensed," Ara stated firmly, her eyes flashing with determination.
     
  14. Inspector Rumancek, white

    Jacob was young but he was already proving himself an asset. With Mr. Kilder in action and ready to take accounts, it gave Rumancek the opportunity to get a feel for the people of Eardwulf. The Inspector returned his full attention to the blacksmith, who claimed he had nothing to hide. An investigator always wishes that was true; it would have made his job so much easier, but he had seen even the gentlest soul fib. His slipped his notepad and pen from his coat chest pocket, back as straight as a pole.

    "What were you doing last night?" Rumancek asked the question without so much a snap to his tone. He was monotone; collected, "And can anyone vouch for you?"

    He expected Mr. Blackwood to have a fully legitimate story, but the question was one Rumnacek liked to get out of the way. No one would be say "I was busy hollowing out a Werewolf". If he could research where each towns person had been the night before, it would help him peel the layers behind the mystery.



    Alistair Baines, purple
    The young judge gave a low laugh and licked his lips, a nervous habit he had unintentionally obtained. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. Because the judges had been working with Witches since before his birth, he known of their existence. During his childhood, he had met most of the Witches who resided in Eardwulf. His eyes grew distant as he remembered the first one he'd met. An old woman with bones for fingers and a skeletal face and two white eyes that peered out from her hallowed sockets. Her white hair was thin and matted. She did use her magic for selfish reasons, but for creating protective spells. At the time he had been terrified of her, but now in his adulthood he understood how hard she had worked for the town. Months after he had met her, she was murdered by a Werewolf.

    Alistair shook his head, smile returning, "I do believe in the supernatural, but I also believe in spirit. Just because this..." He motioned his left hand to the hanging wolf, "Poor bloke is a monster, it doesn't mean he deserved this. And it doesn't mean he was without a heart."

    He remembered the old witch and how she risked her life by placing spells on the edge of town in the middle of the night. She was like a ghost, he thought, yet she tried so hard...



    Knox, green

    Knox had been born with the kind of face that doesn't show much expression. His eyes revealed that his cogs in his brain were constantly turning. He was rigid and very mechanical. Bu his voice was calm and bey, "Pleased to make your acquaintance." Knox tipped his hat again and was surprised by the firm handshake. He summed the young lady up as quite humble and modern, having shook his hand instead of allowing him to kiss it. A modern woman in such a small town was quite the statement.

    "I couldn't agree with you more," his dark eyes moved to look at the wolf, "On all statements said. I must inquiry, what were the other incidents you witnessed?"
     
  15. "I live alone, and my lazy excuse of an apprentice leaves early every day. So no, no one can vouch for me." Perrin scratched his beard absentmindedly, a nervous tic of his. His head was churning as he tried to concoct a story. And the man's voice unnerved him. "It may be good for you to know that I live right above the smithy. Didn't see no reason to have a house anywhere else considering I could work right above my shop. It's a converted attic space." He was babbling. Might want to stop that. "As for what I was doing, I went out and had a drink with some of the mates down at the pub. Went home after dark." A thought occurred to him. "I don't suppose you can ask a few drunks where their drinking buddy went, though?" He needed a far more solid alibi. Of course, Perrin knew where he last remembered being. He'd gone to the pub at six, and left at eight. Hadn't had more than two pints in the whole time. Any wolf knew that some steeling was required for what lay ahead on any full moon. Then he'd gone through the motions: Lock the door, chain himself to the wall, and wait. Ideas swirled through his head as if in a maelstrom, linking and being discarded when they didn't fit, bringing up details that Perrin had barely thought of before. And then it hit him. There were a few things he'd done before the transformation.

    "I did do my inventory before I went to bed. Took me the better part of the night without Charlie there to help out." A half truth. Perrin had been taking inventory last night: Weighing new materials to make sure that the merchants hadn't fooled him with fake iron or steel, taking stock of what ingots he had, and sifting through new and old bills for tax purposes. Of course, it had only taken an hour or two. He couldn't have afforded to invest more time in that venture. "I've got the papers if you want proof." Out of the crowd sprinted Charlie, face covered in soot and shirt sleeves slightly singed. Perfect timing.

    "Blimey boy, what the hell have you been doing in my forge?"

    "Sir... There was... A fire." He had to wheeze the words in between pants. "Some sparks got in the coal bin." Half of Perrin couldn't wait to throttle the boy for setting fire to his workshop. The other half wanted to squeeze the life out of him in a bear hug for getting him out of the situation. He'd have to settle for some solid public scolding.

    Grabbing him by the ear, Perrin yelled "I brought you on to help my business, not burn it to the bloody ground!" He flung Charlie into the throng of onlookers, perhaps in the general direction of the young Master Alistair (though no one would be able to prove that).

    "Now get! I don't want you coming around my forge for the rest of the day! Go flirt with a girl, or whatever it is lazy oafs like you do!" Perhaps he was too hard on that boy. Perrin could half hear the mutters of "Poor child" and "Tough love, mate" already. But that was off the table for now. He turned back to Rumancek. "Apologies, Inspector. But I've a forge to clean up. Maybe even rebuild." He had already turned up the street towards home when he yelled back "I take it you'll want to see that paperwork, am I right? I'll make sure it gets into your hands."
     
  16. "I've shadowed on several exorcisms, and a few supernatural deaths but none of this... level," she replied. "And I've handled one or two situations on my own." She was understating her experience, but it was better to let him underestimate her. Much better, in fact. Everything he was saying right now was a test, all part of his investigation. And even though she had been fast asleep in her bed all night (and anyone at the abbey could and would vouch for her), it was still best to tread carefully.

    Arabelle glanced around at the crowd, noting the other investigators already speaking to several people. They wouldn't find the murderer here. No criminal ever goes back to the crime scene during the day. "Has someone already examined the body?" she asked, smoothing out her skirts once more.
     
  17. Inspector Rumancek, white
    Rumancek's cold eyes showed zero indication of emotion or opinion as the blacksmith disciplined his understudy. His hand kept busy scribbling done notes. The news the boy brought had Mr.Blackwood in a rush to his workshop. The Inspector shook his head, and raised his voice once he could only see the back of the blacksmith. "No apologies necessary. Perhaps, if it's not too inconvenient I might stop by later. That is, if your shop isn't burnt to the ground." The last sentence was only a whisper as he turned to watch Alistair Baines try to help catch both the boy and his own balance. He heard the smooth talker ask the boy if it was alright.

    He flipped his notepad shut and found his gloves once again. He signaled the photographer and sketch artist over and neared the hanging corpse. With the scrupulous intensity of a surgeon, he began investigating the werewolf. Over his shoulder see could see Knox inquiring a nun. His gaze returned to the werewolf, "Mr.Thompson, do you fancy beer or scotch?"

    The photographer hesitated a moment, jaw slack, "Umm, I... Actually prefer milk, sir." The Inspector tsked, "I prefer myself a scotch. What say you, Mr.Kilder? Fancy a pint or scotch this evening when our work is made impossible by the setting of the sun?"


    Knox, green
    "Supernatural deaths," Knox repeated with a low tune and shook his head, "I must say, Sister, you've got some steel nerves for a lady." As an officer he had seen men killed in cold blood in the streets, but supernatural entities were different. He always felt a creature of Hell could leave an impression on someone, like a doorway to their mind. Just as she asked about the body examination, Inspector Rumancek was back to the body and beginning the investigation. For record, he had a photographer and sketch artist immortalizing the crime scene.

    "I'm sure once the Inspector has had a look-over, your expertise would be appreciated." He stepped forward, whispering into the ear of his commander. The Inspector glanced over his should at Arabelle and then nodded, getting back to work. Knox returned to the nun's side, "After he is finished, you can have a gander, if you like."
     
  18. Jacob gave a single, quick nod. "Yes, sir. Thank you." He said, before turning back to the carcass. He hadn't meant to interrupt whatever conversation he was having with the blacksmith. He pulled on a pair of gloves. One of the first things he had noticed about this wolf was the metal in it's teeth and claws. While it looked like copper, he could be sure of it. He figured that perhaps they could take a small sample of it later. Then there were the leaves in its fur. "Oak leaves?" He muttered, taking a quick mental note.

    The way he saw it, if they could find where the beast transformed, they could figure out where it may have gone and where it was killed. Then once he know the identities of these children, he might be able to find a pattern of some kind, and see if, when, and where the killer might strike next.

    He was so deep in thought that when the Inspector spoke to him, he almost didn't hear him. He was a bit reluctant to take the offer, but decided to go with it anyway. "I suppose so, I guess I could use a Scotch. But don't expect to keep me there for too long. I was planning on looking into the missing children, tonight." This case had definitely caught his attention, as could be seen in his eyes. They were full of life, more than they had been recently.
     
    #18 EchoRun, Feb 8, 2015
    Last edited: Feb 8, 2015
  19. "nothing good ever come from believing in stories...that's what my farther always says. Bad things happen to people who don't deserve it. i Know that first hand."

    memoria had in her share in dealing with deaths of innocent. It was nothing she was proud of,but she saw no need in lumbering around feeling guilty all the time. She was fascinated that he believed in creatures such as her. werewolves had a bad name,it was for the ones like her that they did. They weren't all evil,or all killers. She looked up at the man,smiling. Even tho she didn't know him, he manged to pull at her heart strings. She hadn't thought thoughts like this in a while.

    "im sorry,i must look silly to you" memoria had a slight blush as she pulled the hay out of her hair. She had never really cared much for her looks before. Yet she felt slightly embarrassed for speaking to him while looking like.....like a savage.
     
  20. Ara smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "The Lord lends me strength when I need it," she said, her voice soft. "And thank you, I'm sure Father Alberic will be interested to hear what happened here." The woman looked across at the beast curiously. "This was planned, of course. And planning generally requires notes and papers. Perhaps searching for those would be beneficial." Her smile turned into a grim line as she turned back towards the officer.

    "Tread carefully, Sir. I am worried about what will happen next."