Tusked Witch Hunt - RPLOG
Participants
Date
22/3/480
Log
A crowd is gathering in Saints' Square, focused around a bound and gagged bear being, probably of the heavy clan. Beside him, a slightly smaller hippo is ranting, purple in the face.
". . . And then he comes right out and says it!" he is shouting to the gathering crowd, "He admits straight and clear that he knows one of those Corrupt Spirits! I say we string up the devil now! Before he can use any more of his witchery on us!"
"And mister Bear's 'witchery' is what, exactly?" comes the voice of one Flora Longtail sounds out, dressed in her usual leather outfit, as she weaves her way through the crowd. It certainly helps that she's flanked by her usual golem, Bastet.
Her guards, equally, weave after her, as she directs them to clear at least a small part of the crowd. "Now, Flora realizes it is not Flora's place, but at the same time, Flora is sure the King would not appreciate one of his cousins stringing someone up without due process, yes?" she chastices, if carefully.
she takes the time to look the Bear over. "Mister Bear seems to be a dedicant of... Olloch, yes?" she offers, more to the bear than to anyone else.
Into the rear of the gathered mass of angry onlookers slips a quiet form: Saying Russell is a rare sight to be seen these days is to understate to say the least. The pair of rounded ears had picked up the shouting from as far away as the market, and the fox made his way through the main street and into the Sain't square trying to see what all the commotion was. He wasn't particularly religious, and even if he was, he bearly remembered the layout of the town anyway. After swiveling his head around to get his bearings again, Russell's attention can finally focus on what's going on. "Hey! What's going on here?" Though he doesn't speak more, as he catches sight of Flora, and recognizes her. It also helps she asks the exact question he himself was about to ask.
The Hippo demagogue who has been whipping the crowd into a frenzy is a little taken aback when Flora confronts him, but he isn't about to back down.
"What do you know about due process, Longtail?" he spits, "This is none of your business! This is for the REAL citizens of Firmament to take care of!" He points at the bound bear accusingly. "This CULTIST tried to poison me!" he shouts, turning to the crowd once more, "Tried to poison all the poor beings who had the misfortune to wander into his so-called Restaurant!"
The bear, for his part, does not seem to have much to say on his own behalf, despite Flora's questions. He just sits there shaking his head and grunting and crying. The gag in his mouth probably has something to do with that.
Out in the crowd, a rather distressed little mouse turns to Russell. "Oh, it's horrible, Sir!" she squeaks, "They dragged poor Ernest out here and I'm afeared they'll do him harm!"
"Flora knows enough about due process to say that this isn't it," the she-cat offers, shaking her head lightly. "And how many beings have actually died? Or even fallen ill?"
The comment suggesting that she's not a real citizen of Firmament is offered nothing more than a browraise, as she turns to the crowd herself.
"Of course, it shouldn't be too hard for Lord Good to gain the attention of the King, or even the Council, for such a trial, would it?" she offers with no venom in her tongue.
"Do you know what started this?" The Arctic Fox asked once the shorter being spoke, raising his voice lound enough to match Flora's, and risking her not remembering who he was by being rather informal for somewhere outside of the Inn, "My thoughts exactly, Lady Flora.... This looks more like an attempted lynching, and I thought city folk where supposed to be the civilized ones..." He chuckles at the next part of what she says, and adds, "If it's doable for the Longtails, then it aught to be easy for Lord Good." The fox crosses his arms, "I don't think Lady longtail will just stand by and let you lot just hang the man without the law involved."
"What? You want us to give this filth a chance to call on his wicked patron?" the hippo growls, cheered on by a noisy fraction of the crowd, "We're court a-plenty for his kind! And if I were in your position, Highlady," he sneers, "I'd keep my nose out of other peoples' business, before people start thinking you work for these Old Ones too!" He grins triumphantly when Flora asks for evidence of a crime. "The wicked creature tried to poison me! It is only by the grace and power of the Creators that I still stand before you!"
"Its true!" someone in the crowd calls out, "The food was poisoned! I saw Lord Good choking and swelling! Thought he would die!"
"That's right!" the hippo says, waving a sacred doctor at the crowd, "Only, he didn't plan on me having one of these handy!"
The little mouse turns frightened eyes on Russel. "Oh please, sir," she says, "Don't shout! They'll only get angrier! Oh! Poor Ernest! It's all that new dish! That's what caused all this!"
"Flora has tangible proof that that is not the case, yes. Machine court. Flora could call the Spark to confirm, if mister Good prefers?" she offers, still not particularly perturbed by any threats, real or imaginary.
"Though, Flora would say, the callers of Olloch are mostly harmless," she offers with a small sigh, as she leans on her golem, before shaking her head lightly, and mumbling something under her breath, just loud enough for the hippo to notice.
"Oh, I don't care how angry they get" Russ speaks to the rodent in a lower voice, "I want to make sure these idiots can't say they didn't hear... Waiiit. a new dish?" His voice rasis up to a proper be-heard volume again. "So... I'm told you ate something new, is that correct? Where is this food? There's one good way to see if it was poisoned."
Russ now steps forward into the group more, stealing a look back at the mouse with a soft 'trust me' expression. "Give it to me. I'll eat some of it, and we'll all see what happens. If I get sick, it's either poison or bad food. If I don't, then your meal just didn't agree." He gives Flora a nod and an almost inperceptable smirk.
Perhaps offering to call on another Spirit was not the best choice in the current circumstances. "You see?" the angry hippo shouts, "She even admits it! The traitorous leader of a traitorous house worships these Spirits! String him up boys! You have House Good on your side!"
A trio of thuggish beings, a pair of burly bulls and an even larger canine of mixed blood have already hung a long, hemp rope over the outstretched arm of one of the Creator Saints.
The triumphant hippo, with the roaring crowd on his side is brought up a bit short as Russel steps forward. "You. . . you WANT to taste it for poison?" he asks, dumbfounded, "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever hea-" He does not even have time to finish his sentence before the little mouse appears by Russell's side with a plate. It is still warm, it seems and consists of some kind of orang-y colored, thick stew poured over rice.
"Here you are, Sir," squeaks the little mouse, "From Lord Good's own table, this is! Ernest would never poison nobody!"
A small gesture from the she-cat, and one of her guards, the mink, moves to stand closer to the bound bear, while the lion seems to make his way through the crowd. It doesn't seem like she's too disturbed by the suggestion that she's a traitor, not in the slightest.
Her tail is flicking behind her lightly, as she gestures towards Russell. "Might Flora suggest waiting for proof of poison, rather than attacking someone without evidence? After all, all of those who claim to have been poisoned are still standing, yes? Besides, if mister Ernest really wanted to poison anyone, would he be using something that takes effect immediately? That sounds like bad publicity to Flora, yes."
"Listen up from a country fox, people." He takes the plate, first smelling it, then running some on his finger. "Most of the natural world is poisonus. You buy your mushrooms and your herbs in the stalls, but they where picked by beings who know what they are doing. If you wish to go out into the woods and pick your herbs yourself. If they smell funny, or make your finger feel funny when you touch them: There are certainly poisnous, this dish is neither"
He takes a bite of the soup covered rice. "It's spicy, but quite good.... I don't feel any pain on my tounge, either. So that rules out MOST of the poisonus mushrooms. even though most of them just leave one... in disposed for a few hours at best."
The fox then, just to be sure, finishes the plate right there, and then waits. "Now, we'll see if I start to convulse.... according to you, and those with you, it was seemingly immediate, as the food was still quite warm."
GOOD.
GRAVY.
This might be the best thing that has ever crossed Russell's lips. It is a struggle to decide if he should eat faster to get more in his mouth, or to eat slower so that it lasts longer. The spicy is hot without being too hot, it is just savory enough without being salty and there is a sweet, peanutty taste that is absolutely flawless. And the rice. Can rice actually taste this good? Did they boil it in joy?
The unruly crowd has fallen silent, watching the snowy fox for any signs of his impending demise. Even the would-be lynchers have frozen in their tasks while the huge, tied-up bear sobs in his restraints.
"See? Perhaps there is something in the food that doesn't sit right with Mister Good? But it certainly does not appear to be poisonous," she offers, before gesturing her mink-guard to help the bear at least sit up straight. He's still be bound, but at least he'd no longer be sprawled out all that uncomfortably on the ground.
"Now, as Flora was asking for before. Can we please give Mister Ernest a chance to defend himself? Maybe ask if there's something in the dish that might sit well with one being, and upset another's stomach, instead of assuming evil intent right away?"
Russell remains silent, checking his own pulse with his two fingers on his wrist, balancing on a foot, and then another. "... There's not a hint of poison in this dish. Because if there was, it would have to be the same poison that you ingested, sir... And with that, it would have the same symptoms. And I am much shorter and lighter in stature, and ate much more. I should already be dead or dying right now."
Indeed, Lady Flora, I've seen many a being not take well to wild game, even though that's what I eat every day." Russell says to the tigress, before adding, "Though as much as I love a good omlette, eggs are one of those foods that don't sit well this fox." He looks at the gathered group, "I eat them anyway and just regret my decision-making later...."
His eyes then finally focus on the noble, "So... What do you have to say for yourself?"
At some point during the whole debacle, a small, unobtrusive feline slipped into the crowd. She stands next to two heavy-folk, watching with topaz eyes, a small journal in one hand and pen in the other taking notes.
The Good hippo starts to go red in the face, and a vein starts to pulse in his forehead as he grinds his teeth. "That is impossible!" he shouts, "These people all saw! They saw that he tried to kill me!" It is really a rather silly claim to make, since there is no way that all of these people had been in the restaurant. "He obviously used some kind of Spirit magic! It was a direct attempt on my life! Take him for a ride, boys!" The two bulls leave the dog to finish tying the noose and approach the bound bear and Flora's guard.
"Step aside, tiny," one of them snorts at the mink, "That's our criminal."
"Ain't no criminal from what I'm seeing," the guard offers, as she carefully slices the bear's gag, allowing him to speak, before turning back to the two guards, dodging and weaving around them with no intent to harm, but certainly an intent to trip them up and stall them.
"Mister Olloch does not grant that sort of power, as far as Flora is aware. It would be counterproductive to feasting, Flora'd say, yes."
The Arctic Fox was no Royal, and not even Noble. He had an oddly well-stocked list of Noble drinking buddies at the Inn, but nothing that would give him any 'halt this instant' sort of athority.
But he did have a gun, and perhaps more brass in his trousers then he had good sense.
"Listen to be very carefully Royal." Russell's tone lacks any sign of respect, "I've ate your entire meal, and haven't suffered a thing.. And I did NOT fight Shadows years ago to save Promise just to watch puffed up nobility lynch people just because they /think/ they've been spited."
"You where NOT poisoned today. But if you, or one of your... Thugs, lays a hand on that man, or one of the Longtails here... You *will* be shot today... I hope you don't make it come to that."
Zalthar moves to step forward, weaving between legs as a flit of tiny darkness. "If I might ask, the Good Sir might indeed have been targeted. But do we know that it was the cook?" she asks "And do we know it was the curry? There are many poisons that take a long time to take effect. Some even take days." she says, trying to find a higher point to speak from, or at least the clearest spot to stand.
