Big Bad Wolff - Interrogation - RPLOG
Participants
Date
23/1/480
Log
Fenris arrives in the heat of the day at the guard outpost where the bandits who attacked the Longtail caravan are being held. He is dressed formally in a streamlined, Creator style jumpsuit with a sturdy belt and an unusual symbol on the breast. "Marcus around?" he asks whoever is on duty outside, "I think I am expected?"
The Guard nods and steps aside, allowing Fenris inside, where Marcus can be found reviewing paperwork. He looks up as the Tiger enters and nods. "Good, you're here. I would've liked for Lady Longtail to come as well, given that they were raiding her convoys, but I believe she had matters to attend to," the big cat says, before gesturing to another door. "No one's talked to them yet. Let's see what they know."
"It isn't really Flora's thing," Fenris says amiably, "Interrogation, I mean. And, you know, talking to strangers." He hefts a hard case in one hand. "Besides, I have everything we need for a thorough investigation right here," he says, "Lead the way."
Marcus nods. "True." The Tiger sets the papers aside and walks towards the door, opening it and stepping inside, revealing a Guard watching over the Weasel and Crocodile from the raid, bound and sitting with less than pleased faces.
Marcus pats the Guard, nodding. "Thanks, James. Go take a break," he says. James grins and nods, leaving the room to take his much needed break. Marcus closes the door behind him and looks to Fenris. "Do you want to start?"
Fenris says nothing. The big tiger only steps into the room and starts to piece together a small table from the case he has brought. A clever set of dowels make a base for the case itself to sit on. He opens up the case, watching the bound bandits with a steely gaze before reaching inside and producing. . . a sandwich?
"Hi," he says pleasantly, "I'm Fenris. What are your names?"
The Bandits seems confused by the sandwich. Marcus just shakes his head and leans against the door, watching Fenris.
The Weasel and Crocodile share a glance before looking back to their interrogator. Finally, the Weasel speaks up. "...Tym. And this is Myles," he says, jerking his head in the Croc's direction, who hisses angrily, before being silenced by Tym. "Shut up! He left us behind, we're dead either way!"
"A pleasure, Tym, Myles," Fenris says, taking a seat in front of the pair, sandwich still in one hand. "Who left you behind?" the big tiger exudes an aura of pleasant curiosity, "And as for being dead, I can promise, I have no intention to see either of you dead."
"You might not, but if this rat keeps talking, then we really will be dead!" Myles hisses, glaring at Tym. "Give it UP, Myles! Wolff left us behind, you think that, even if we were to get free, he'd take us back into the fold?" the Weasel says, shaking his head! "No! He'd slit our throats and stomp on our skulls before we could say 'Hey, boss!' I swear, if I weren't tied up, I'd smack you good!" Before the squabble can get too severe, Marcus clears his throat, glaring at the two of them. They quiet down pretty quick.
"Wolff," Tym says after a moment. "The big guy; the one calling all the shots. We call him Ironhand Wolff, cuz he's so ruthless," he adds quietly, looking at the floor.
"Taggart?" Fenris asks, "Taggart Wolff? I thought he was still terrorizing Cliffside." The tiger tears off another bit of sandwich and pops it into his mouth, then starts a bit. "Oh, sorry," he says, "Were you two hungry? I've got more sandwiches if you want." The uniformed feline must not be a very good interrogator. He has hardly even asked any questions!
"Not after all the shit he pulled in Cliffside," Tym snorts. "We ran into each other back when he was on the run. Stuck together since; ya know how it is, you watch my back, I'll watch yours," he says, trailing off. "I was his right hand man, and he just...left me." Seems the betrayal is harder on the Weasel than Myles. The Crocodile grumbles and shakes his head. "Don't want no food; dunno what ya done to it."
"Suit yourself," Fenris says to the Crocodile's refusal, "I make pretty good sandwiches, though." He takes another bite of his own snack and watches the weasel. "I am sorry about your friend," he says, "But I have to say, I am surprised to hear that the Butcher of Wayfarer Pass has resorted to preying on supply trains. Who exactly outfitted him? I'm willing to bet it wasn't Cliffside."
Tym wriggles in his seat, nervous with where the conversation is heading. "...Well, he's been doing Mercenary work on the side," the Weasel mutters. "The big criminals get to bid for his...handiwork. That's how he's been getting the coin to pay for outfitting the gang. Well, I guess it's more of a small army," he adds. "What attacked those wagons was a small detachment, maybe a quarter?"
"But who hired Wolff?" Marcus asks in frustration, finally speaking up. The Weasel whines, wriggling more. "Some guy, I don't know..."
"Marcus," Fenris says gently, "Would you please go get me a table and some cups? I will be fine on my own for a moment. You are making our guests uncomfortable." The tiger remains seated, and finishes the last of his sandwich, looking at the bound pair in silence. He reaches up into his case and fishes around a little bit before producing another sandwich. "You two sure you don't want anything? I have lots of sandwiches here. And some fruit if you prefer," he offers, "Sounds like old Taggart is doing pretty well for himself. Why send a private army to rob a lumber shipment? I'm sure that there are better commissions out there for a wolf of Wolff's talents. Seems like a waste of your men." He emphasizes Tym's ownership.
Marcus grunts and exits the room, the bustle in the other room muffled as he closes the door behind him. Myles mutters under his breath, refusing to talk, but Tym shrugs. "I went with him to meet the contact, what with being the second in command," he starts, getting comfortable. "I never caught a first name, but it was a guy, one of those cats. I think he said he was a Longtail?" the Weasel offers, giving a shrug. "Looked like a Lynx. Said he wanted to ruin the noble's reputation. You know Ironhand; he'd do anything to ruin Sweetwater," Tym adds. "I'll take a sandwich, if you're offerin'."
"Doesn't surprise me," Fenris says, holding out a sandwich for Tym to take a bite, "Sorry that I have to leave you tied up. I think that they are afraid that the two of you might overpower me and escape." The tiger lets the Weasel chew and swallow before offering another bite. "This longtailed lynx must have paid well," he says, "I mean, building materials aren't really worth much on the black market. And a pain to transport. Creators!" he says, shaking his head, "I can only imagine what a pain it must have been hauling it out of the canyon!"
"He didn't care what we did with the stuff. He just wanted us to raid them," Tym says between munches, shrugging. "...Woulda rather taken that job from the Technologists," he grumbles before taking another bite. "But Ironhand turned 'em down to take this job instead. Would've been easy money, too..." The Crocodile shakes his head. "Weird bastards..." he mutters, shifting in his chair, eyeing the Tiger. "Too bad Ironhand didn't take tha job; ya know how powerful we'd be with Creator Tech?" he says with a toothy grin.
"I have an inkling, Myles," Fenris says pleasantly, "But I understand the technologists don't really like to share." The tiger scratches idly at the thick fur of his chest and feeds the last bite of sandwich to Tym. The tiger looks over his shoulder, making sure the door is still firmly shut, then leans forward to talk low to the two captives. "Say that I had a job for Mister Wolff," he says conspiratorially, "How would I go about catching his interest?"
"What makes ya think Wolff would share back?" Myles says, his grin widening. Tym shakes his head and shrugs. "I dunno exactly. I mean, there's the usual ways. He's also got a few people that hang around the taverns," the Weasel says, "Like The Diseased Pig, right? But I dunno, man. You were at the raid, don't ya think he'll recognize you? The gig's up as soon as he sees you." The Crocodile mutters under his breath, shaking his head at Tym's quickness to give up their boss.
"Oh," Fenris says, shaking his head, "That's not it at all! I'm not nearly so tricky as you think I am. It has just been a long time since I've met someone who could parry a hit from me and still use his arm after. And as far as creator tech? Taggart doesn't strike me as the brightest bulb in the holographic array, if you catch my drift." It would take a very, very special kind of being to catch Fenris's drift on that last comment. "Now, Myles," he says, all of his attention on the gator now, "You want a sandwich yet?"
"How do you think Ironhand stays on top?" Tym asks with a grin. "He beats them senseless if they try anything." THe Weasel shrugs at Fenris' last comment. "Don't know whatcha mean."
As Fenris turns his attention to Myles, the reptile tenses. "Ya know what I want?" the Croc asks, leaning forward. "I want...OUT!" he snaps, lunging forward, intent on barreling into the Tiger, the only thing between him and the door. Seems while Fenris was talking to Tym, Myles was getting loose!
Fenris does not try to dodge at all as the Crocodile lunges at him, apparently caught completely flat footed!
And then, he does not move at all when the seven foot Croc slams into him either.
"Myles, Myles!" Fenris says, wrapping his arms around the raging reptile in a crushing hug before whipping him around and moving to throw him to the floor in a brutal arm lock.
Tym jerks backwards as the Crocodile lunges, hopping in his chair, scooting back. Myles, meanwhile, is thrashing about on the floor as Fenris pins him down, snarling and trying to strike at any part of the Tiger he can reach. "This is your fault, ya filthy rat! If ya had just kept yer trap shut and worked with me, we coulda overpowered this bastard and been home free!" Myles rasps at the Weasel, eyes full of hate. "You think these guys can save yer sorry hide?!" Boy, wouldn't it be awkward if Marcus came back in now?
And who should open the door, but Marcus? "Couldn't find a table, but I got some cups..." the guard trails off, looking over the scene before him; a Weasel hiding in the corner and a Tiger wrestling a Crocodile on the floor, chairs knocked over and just a general mess. "COLLINS, TYLER," the imposing guard yells, the sound of feet pounding towards the room as Marcus moves in to assist the Tiger.
Fenris still has a smile on his face as he applies more pressure to the arm bar and pushes his considerable weight down on the crocodile's neck, keeping his chin pressed flat to the ground. "Nothing to worry about," the tiger says amiably, "Myles and I were just having a little difference of opinion." Fenris lowers a knee rather forcefully into the small of the Crocodile's back to hold him still while the designated guards bring more rope to bind the croc again. "Myles has been an unruly guest," he says, "Perhaps some time to cool off in the holding cell? Tym and I are still having a conversation."
Marcus's eyes narrow at Fenris' relaxed attitude. "...Yeah, right," he says eventually, the trio of guard hoisting the violent Crocodile up and pushing him out of the room, escorting him to a cell. "...Thank the Creators Lady Longtail had other things to do," Marcus mutters as he goes. "This is embarrassing."
Tym grins as Fenris turns back to him. "...What were we talking about?"
Fenris dusts himself off and settles down into a chair as if nothing had happened. "Myles seemed tense," he says affably, "Why is that? I was not aware that Taggart's reach was so great that captives surrounded by guards needed to be afraid of him."
Tym shakes his head. "Wolff likes to tell his stories," he says. "And the men believe it because, well. It's Wolff telling the stories. You know what he does." The Weasel shuffles his way to a chair and sits down. "...Though, I'd prefer not to find out if the stories are true, if you catch my drift," he adds.
"I understand completely," Fenris says, "But I like to think that you are safe enough if you stick around here. I imagine that Taggart," Fenris is not intimidated by the being's name, "has already written you off as dead anyway. So, you were hired simply to wreck the caravan?"
"Hopefully, anyway," Tym says. "I mean, Ironhand's paranoid enough to move around every so often; why wouldn't he be paranoid enough to pull some strings?" The Weasel glances at the door and bites his lip. "...But yeah. The job was just to keep raiding caravans made by Lady Longtail. We'd get told when the next one was about to move, and we'd trash it. What we didn't destroy, Ironhand would sell to get more crown. Dunno what he did with it all, though. We didn't get new equipment often...well, he did. We didn't."
Fenris nods thoughtfully, and produces a few more sandwiches from his case, carefully wrapped in paper. "Well," he says, "I appreciate your candor. I guess I have to wonder, though. The way Myles was acting, I expected you to be less willing to tell me anything." The tiger leaves the question unanswered, but raises an eyebrow as its own question mark.
Tym scowls and shakes his head. "I was Ironhand's right hand. I saved his damn hide more times than he'll ever know. But what does he do? Use me as a damned shield and leave me behind when his luck goes bad." The Weasel bares his teeth. "I'd thrown him under the bus sooner if I'd known it would come to this. Myles doesn't get it; he wasn't stabbed in the back."
