Wildcard - Investigation - RPLOG
Participants
Date
15/6/479
Log
There is a bit of a crowd gathering in Saint's Square, though more out of curiousity than anything else. The doors of the church remain open, but Noon Mass has been canceled today. It is a situation of note, since no one can remember that ever happening. Occasionally a worried looking priest or accolyte will put on a brave face and tell the curious that everything is fine, but it is obvious that something is up.
Lucasiel had been looking forward to a rathe relaxing day. But that seems to not be what will happening today. The panther steps up to the front of the crowd with the rest of the onlooking beings, but unlike the others, she is bedecked in all of her armour, helmet tucked under her arm. "Well, I wonder what the situation is today..."
"Pardon me, Dearie," comes a weathered old voice from below Lucasiel's line of sight. A slight adjustment reveals a short, almost round little black bear in priestess garb and wearing thick glasses. "Are you with the guards?" the little old woman asks, "Only, if you are you should probably get to the cloisters soon. That captain of yours seems rather agitated."
"No," Lucasiel replies, looking down towards the bear and offering a smile. "I am... Here to help, though. I will go meet with them all the same, thank you," she says, offering a bow of her head before moving off to find this guard captain. She was curious what the situation was, but standing around in the crowd wasn't likely to give her the answer she sought.
"Oh," the little black bear cries, hurrying after Lucasiel, "No, dear, no! If you are not part of the guard than you shouldn't be back here at all!" But there is no way that the rotund little woman is going to catch up now.
In the cloisters, just outside a little residence for one of the priests, a harried looking polar bear in priestly vestiments is wearily talking with a rather put out looking fox.
"You are trying to tell me that he went in here for a nap and never came out again?" the fox is asking the bear, apparently not for the first time. Both of them look up at Lucasiel as she clanks and rattles toward them.
Lucasiel raises her free hand, waving off Memna's concerns. "Do not worry. I still have all the proper authority," she says, not breaking stride as she approaches the cloister, tail flicking as she slows to a stop. "I am here to assist in the investigation and, if need be, any apprehension. But I need to be caught up to speed on the situation."
The bear opens his mouth, about to go over the story yet again, but the fox cuts him off. "And just who are you?" he barks out, gruffly, "This incident is under my jurisdiction and I am just about to call this case closed anyway."
"Lucasiel Longtail," The armoured cat replies curtly. "If you wish to market it closed, feel free. I am more than capable of reopening it under my own lead. But it would be simpler to simply work together, don't you think?" She waits for a moment, not long enough for much of a reply. "Now then, what's the incident?"
The polar bear takes this as his cue to speak. "Father Aidan was supposed to lead the noon mass today," he says, "He said he was retiring to his room for a bit of rest before the gathering, but now he has vanished! I came to wake him about half an hour ago, but he did not answer his door and it was locked from inside. I began to be concerned and called for a key to open the door. But when we looked, he was not there and we are very worried for him."
The fox rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "So an old man wandered off and left his door locked behind him," he says, "No reason for the guard to be involved at all. We'll just put his description around. He will show up on his own, I'm sure."
"Do you know if anyone had recently had meetings with him?" Lucasiel asks, touching a finger to her chin. "Any private sessions, or confessions? Or, perhaps, did anyone see someone going into his room before or after his nap?"
The fox in the city guard uniform rolls his eyes and stalks away. "Fine," he says, "Let the Longtails muck around with it. The city guard has actual WORK to do." He whistles and three other guardsmen leave their perusal of the area to trot after him. Looks like Luca is on her own.
"No," the polar bear says, shaking his head, "Father Aidan does not do much one-on-one counseling any more. Usually he just sticks to reading from the First Text and directing Noon Mass. Poor man had a bad experience a few months ago." The polar bear shakes himself and gets back on topic. "I spoke to him just before he went to nap," he continues, "Left him right here. As far as I know, no one went through that door between when Father Aiden went in and when I unlocked it."
Lucasiel watches the others leave before snorting. "And they call themselves protectors," she mumbles before looking back towards the bear. "A bad experience? Tell me about it," she says, tilting her head. "Are there any windows in his room? May I examine it?" She asks, tail flicking from side to side.
"Of course," the polar bear says, opening the door and gesturing Lucasiel inside.
There is not much to see, honestly. There is a low bed with a mat of woven rushes and a few blankets, disturbed as if someone was recently there and did not make the bed when they left. Beneath it is an empty chamber pot and a little locked footlocker. On the other side of the room is a low table that has doubtless been used as a desk. It holds a little journal and quill and ink along with a small, potted flower. High on one wall there is a small window that let's the afternoon light stream in. It might be large enough for a being to fit through, but it would be difficult to reach.
"Father Aiden had a woman come to him for advice," the bear explains, "Not personally, just as a member of the clergy. I do not know the details, you understand. They spoke at some length and she left, seeming quite a bit better for having spoken to someone." The bear hesitates, then continues. "It was only two days later that this very same being was brought to us to be prepared for burial. It seems that she killed herself."
Lucasiel slowly takes in the room as she listens, ears flicking. "Did you check the graves?" she asks, running her fingers over the cover of the journal, humming. She wouldn't look through it -just- yet. "In the event he was paying his respects? Has his home been checked, too?"
"This IS his home," the polar bear says, "Aidan has lived here for more than a decade. And yes, we have looked everywhere in the church compound. He is still strong and healthy. But he is an old man and never goes far. It is rare that he leaves the church and he never goes without an escort."
Lucasiel pauses for a moment before tapping the journal. "Would you mind? Just enough to peek at the latest entries and, perhaps, the time of that meeting. It may provide valuable insight as to where he might be." She takes the book up and holds it gently in her fingers, humming. "What a strange thing. And do me a favour? Check under the bed for any kind of trap doors."
The polar bear nods. "If you think it will help," he says, then looks askance at the bed. The bear gingerly kneels down and peers under the little bed. "No," he says, "Nothing down here but his personal chest." The priest rises and brushes dust from the knees of his robes. "You don't think he sneaked out somehow, do you?"
The little journal is not particularly informative. It is filled with little observations on the weather, day to day life in the church, an occasional poem and one or two little scribbles that might be poor attempts and sketching flowers. There is one entry of interest:
"It seems that they found her body. I never even knew her name. They say that she killed herself, but I can hardly believe such a thing. She seemed so full of life! Ready to start anew. I wonder if her husband had a hand in her death, but that is not my place. I have told the guard that she had felt threatened by her husband, but it seems that they were not interested in looking beyond what seems to be a simple (can anything ever be simple?) suicide. I pray that she finds happiness in whatever new life awaits beyond this one."
Lucasiel furrows her brow. "It's entirely possible." She sighs and settles her hands on her hips, placing the journal down. "The woman that died. Do you know where she lived?" She asks, then, turning to face the bear. "I would speak with her husband."
The priest blinks in surprise. "Do you think that is relevant?" he asks, "It was months ago!" He rubs his muzzle in thought. "I do not remember her name or where she came from," he admits, "But I am sure we have records." He waves his hands at the empty little room. "But what about Father Aidan?"
"It is a distinct possibility," Lucasiel says, frowning. "I'd like for it to not be the reason, but... She apparently had issues with her husband. And she spoke to Father Aidan about it. Maybe the husband thought about it for a while and decided Father knew too much? I would hate to think so, but we cannot rule it out. I want to investigate all leads."
The priest nods slowly. "Yes," he says, "Alright. Come with me." The bear leads Lucasiel out of the little room and locks it securely behind them. "Just in case," he explains, then lead the way from the cloisters to the church proper. Walking across the nave, he leads the panther to a small room crammed with shelves. Shouldering his way through the narrow aisles, he makes his way to a little shelf marked with a date a few months old and starts to rifle through carefully packed papers.
"Ah, here it is," he says, retrieving a scroll and pulling it from a protective case. The bear scans down the list for a moment, then taps on a name. "Here," he says, "Nellia Brushtail." The bear hesitates and frowns. "That is odd," he says, "This says that her husband is Captain Kay Brushtail of the city guard." He gives a worried look to Lucasiel. "That is the fox who was leading the investigation earlier."
Lucasiel tilts her head to the side, raising her brow. "That would explain why he was so eager to be closed with the case, perhaps," she says, humming. "This is a very promising lead indeed. Thank you for your assistance," she says, running her fingers along the contours of her helmet. "Now... Hmmm. I think I should have a talk with him. See what he has to say about it."
"Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to help," the polar bear priest says, "I think you will be able to find the captain at the guard post here in Saint's Square." He raises a hand in farewell. "Be careful," he advises, "And please, bring Father Aidan back to us."
"I will certainly try," Lucasiel says with a little bow before she turns to make her way out of the church, a plan already forming as she sets about seeking the captain in the square. Couldn't be too hard, right? Not with the recent commotion. Someone had to keep away curious Being.
The commotion in the square has died off to the usual hubbub of Firmament, in part, no doubt, to the efforts of the guardsmen. There is a small knot of guards gathered at the little outpost leading into the square chatting with one another while keeping an eye out for trouble. It looks like Kay is among them.
Lucasiel saunters up to the group of guardsmen, an easy smile on her face. "Hello again, Captain. May I ask you a few questions?" she glances around at the others with him, trying to note disposition. If it was a conspiracy, were others in on it? The body language might be the key to determining such.
Kay, the fox, give Lucasiel a sour look, but waves his other men off. "Probably time for a patrol anyway boys," he says, "I'll see what I can do for our clever detective." The other guards shoot glances at Lucasiel as they turn and leave, some curious, some mistrustful.
The fox with the captain's insignia on his sleeve folds his arms and turns to face Lucasiel. "What?" he asks, "You ready to admit I was right?"
"Actually," The panther says, watching the others disperse before continuing. "I'm here to talk about you and your late wife. "I had heard you two had some... Troubles of some sort?" She inquires, raising a brow.
Kay's eyes narrow and he frowns. "I loved my wife," he says, "Anyone who says otherwise is a liar. What is this about?"
Lucasiel keeps her appraising eyes upon Kay, watching intently. "Well, I'd heard she sought council with Father Aidan over some duress some time ago. Before her death, I mean. And some people thought it was more than suicide. I'm wondering if you know of anyone that might've had a grudge against her. Someone that might've wanted to harm her, or take her life. I figure if you were close to her, you might have some insight on that. In case whoever it was that was responsible had something against the priests."
"No one would have hurt Nellia," Kay says curtly, "This has already been hashed and rehashed and I will thank you to keep your dirty Longtail nose out of it. We were happy together. I don't know why she went to see that old man, but I know that she killed herself afterward. Probably told her that she would be happier when she was dead. Maybe he feels the same way. Probably wandered away to off himself." He frowns at the panther. "There any more old wounds you want to dig your claws into?" he asks, "Or are we done here?"
"Yes. I believe so," Lucasiel says, eyeing Kay over for a moment. She cants her head to the side, then and nods before turning to stroll off. She had other stops to make before nightfall. Like finding and investigating Kay's home. Perhaps she would find clues there!
Kay snorts derisively and turns on his heel to stalk away, back on patrol around the square.
The fox captain's home is not hard to find. It is on a well kept little street off of Saints' Square and is a comfortable, if not extravigant place to live, judging by the neat facade and front garden.
Lucasiel shuffles on up to the house, trying to peek through the windows, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Or for anything that -sounds- out of the ordinary. She highly doubted the poor man would be held captive there, but you never know!
The house looks empty. The windows are covered by drapes inside, of course, but what little can be seen inside seems perfectly ordinary for a career soldier widower.
Lucasiel frowns. Breaking and entering wasn't something she enjoyed doing, but she had reasonable suspicion. She does, at least, wander around back to look for a back door before she tries a way in, though. Especially since her breaking would be quite literal.
Ducking around the house into the slightly over grown back garden does, indeed reveal a back door. It looks sound, if not as sturdy as a stone wall. The back garden is typical of a man who has little interest in tending to plants in his small, small plot of land and this little jungle has overgrown its pots. It looks like it has not been too terribly long since someone was here who cared meticulously for these plants. There are no weeds to be found in the wild little patch of vegetables growing in a small planter box, speaking well of whoever used to tend this garden.
Lucasiel tests the door, frowning. Of course it would be locked. Ah well. Such is the way of things. She takes a step back, pulled her helmet on, then throws her armoured mass against it, trying to shoulder check the door open without destroying it entirely.
It takes a couple of tries, but the doorjamb can't hold up against the combined force of Lucasiel and her heavy armor. Crashing through the door, the panther finds herself in a small kitchen. Everything is carefully hung and stored away, and everything is coated in a fine layer of dust. Looks like the new widower does not come back here much. The house is quite small. Through an open doorway, a small dining and sitting room is visible, and a steep flight of stairs leads to a second level.
Lucasiel wrinkles her nose under the helmet, taking the room over. What kind of Being doesn't make use of their kitchen? Very curious indeed... She sniffs at the air for a moment, surpressing the urge to sneeze before she starts for the stairs. "Anyone home?"
The air smells stale. Like unwashed clothing and cheap booze. No one responds to her call.
The stairs are narrow and steep, the kind meant to preserve as much space as possible. Ascending to the second story of the little house finds Lucasiel in what must be a bedroom, though it seems to suffer the same neglect as the kitchen. Everything is in order, the bed is made, the wardrobe, though open is neatly arranged with a modest collection of dresses and a basin sits by the window where sunlight makes the dust motes in the air dance in the afternoon glow. The only thing out of place is a little shrine to the Creator Saints. It looks like someone wrenched it from its place on a side board and threw it across the room, breaking the little relequary and leaving a crack in the plaster.
Lucasiel takes in the sights, frowning at the little broken shrine. This Kay fellow didn't seem like a very warm and fuzzy sort, certainly. Maybe his wife kept a journal though? She collects the shrine and brings it back over to its place, setting it back down before starting her search. She might have to go tail that guard later to see where he lived!
There is not much to find in the bedroom. Mostly that no one has used it in some time. And whatever Nellia's feelings might have been, it seems that she did not write them down. Not anywhere that Lucasiel can find, anyway.
Lucasiel hrms softly and rolls her shoulders, turning about and making her way downstairs once more. Perhaps it was time for a different story of inquiry. Down and out of the house entirely, she set off for Mange Square. This man seemed to be up to no good, and where better to learn about such people than a den of people up to no good? She still had contacts enough in the Thieve's Guild. As long as they weren't Longtails.
Lucasiel hrms softly and rolls her shoulders, turning about and making her way downstairs once more. Perhaps it was time for a different story of inquiry. But first, she made a note to check out the rest of the lower floor, moving towards the front door.
The entry hall is not much more interesting than the rest of the house, aside from the sense that someone has actually been there. It is currently bare, though there is a hook where a concientious person might hang a coat or a uniform. Just off the entry hall is a whole new story. discarded clothing litters the little sitting room along with paper wrappers from street vendor food and a bevy of empty beer bottles. An old sofa seems to have become a sort of makeshift nest for the miserable creature that bunks here at nights. The place smells like unwashed fox and booze. Kay may cut a strong figure outside, but it looks like the fox is pretty shattered.
Amidst all the detritus and debris of a life in shambles, a small, parchment flyer stands out, perched on a stained pillow. It is a bit tattered from much handling, but it reads, "TAKE CONTROL OF YOUR LIFE!" and lists an address and a few times. Looks like the fox is going to a support group or something.
Lucasiel looks over the mess, a frown tugging at the corners of her muzzle. She takes up the parchment in her gauntlet covered fingers, looking over the address. They weren't meeting today, but... Her frown deepens, taking the sheet with her as she turns for the door. It was a start! And now she was off on her way to the Guild, already forming her questions and guesses.
Leaving the house behind, back door wedge haphazardly in its frame, it is a bit of a walk to get to the Diseased Pig.
The Pig is as foul as ever, the windows smeared with unnamable grease and the rafters blackened from a lifetime of smoke and other unsavory humors. Mangle, the ape behind the bar turns a beady eye on Lucasiel as she comes in, but makes no comment.
Lucasiel nods politely to the bartender as she makes for the trapdoor leading below. She was a familiar enough sight around here. It was a great place to spread the wealth and catch the trails of her quarry. Usually, though, they were Longtails. She approaches one of the bartenders on duty within the guild itself and sets the flyer down, tapping it with a heavy finger before the rest of her hand opens, spilling a couple of freshly minted crown atop it. "Have any information for me today, Jack? I'm in the market for some."
The coins vanish as quickly as they appear. "Could be," Jack sneers, the hyena baring his teeth it what might loosly be called a smile, "What exactly are you looking for. Haven't seen none of your illustrius cousins lately, if that's what you are after."
"For once, no," Lucasiel says, staring back at the bartender from the other side of her helmet. "I'm looking for information on this group here. Specifically, regarding dear old Captain Kay of the guard. I am sure at least some news of his type pass your ears."
"Kay?" the hyena asks, "Yeah, sure. I know him. Guy's a thug and a bully. But he's not on our payroll, if that's what you're asking. Thinks he's better than the thieves' guild. Won't be bought. He's kind of a pain, but nothin' that can't be gotten around." He holds up the bit of parchment. "So what is this?" he asks, look over the flyer.
"I found that in his posession," The Panther says, leaning against the bar, tail flicking. "A good priest of the church recently ended up disappearing. And I've been trying to figure out where to. Kay is suspect number one in that case. And possibly of the implied murder of his wife, as well. So I'm trying to figure out what I can before I point any fingers."
Jack looks over the flyer. "Doesn't mean much to me," he admits, "Isn't this like one of those fireside singalong things where soldiers sit and cry at each other?" He flips the paper over and frowns. "This, on the other hand," he growls, "This is ringing some bells." He holds up the paper to show off a quartet of little symbols, a cup, a staff, a sword and a coin. "There is a new player in town," he says, "You heard anything about a guy that calls himself Wildcard?"
Lucasiel tilts her head to the side. "Yes. He's not on my hit list yet, but I've heard of him," she says, frowning. "Is he involved in this, then? Very interesting... What is our dear guard captain doing with people like that?"
"How should I know?" Jack snorts, "Not like the psychopath is welcome here. Took out a bunch of our money men and sorta called out Fat Todd. He must be pretty good, though, cause we haven't managed to track him down yet."
Lucasiel grunts and straightens out again. "Just not looking hard enough. Thanks for the words though. I think I'll go check on this address. Who knows, maybe our captain friend will decide I know too much and try to come get me tonight, too! Wouldn't that be a treat," she says with a laugh, reaching to take the flyer back.
The hyena yields the paper without comment. "Well," he says, "If you find him, I imagine that the big guy would pay handsomely for the info. Good luck, Longtail." Then he goes back to tending the bar.
"I will do so. If I don't kill him first," Lucasiel says with a shrug. "You know how it gets sometimes. I swear the axe just seems to... Find its own marks." She gives an unseen wink and a chuckle, turning to make her way out. "Time to go see what's what with this little club of theirs."
