Fantasy Every Day Will be Sunday

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The Grand Experiment (1920-1933)


Prohibition that’s the name,
Prohibition drives me insane.
I’m so thirsty, soon I’ll die.
I’m simply goin’ to ‘vaporate, I’m just that dry.
I wouldn’t mind to live forever in a trench,
Just if my daily thirst they only let me quench.
And not with Bevo or Gingerale.
I want real stuff by the pail.


​

Out of tremendous violence and sorrow the map of the world was redrawn. Many clerics, paladins, and keepers of the gods teachings prophesied that the end had come. Drenched in blood, fueled by the narcissism of invention and political bravado a single action of rebellion in an otherwise insignificant country sparked a chain of war that encompassed the entire globe. Treaties and economies crumbled, dragging with them the moral compasses of the living.
However it was not the end of time, nor the end of life as proclaimed by the keepers of the old pantheon. The first Great War was the violent, spiteful mother of a new and great age. From her ruin earth shattering destruction people persisted. Tempered by the forge of war they formed a new world, one of mechanical wonders that stripped away the necessity of magic, giving further assurance to those who dared to step away from the gods of ancient tomes and rites. A bright new future of factories, virgin soil,, and dazzling lights called people from the old lands to the distant shore of a fledgling nation. The Great Territories, a nation forged by a war of its own emerged the victor of the First War. Surrounded by allies of wealth and repute, the nation opened its doors wide to the harried masses of the war torn world.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giants of granite, braziers aflame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
Our mighty goddess with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning,
and her name Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome;her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”​

The sparkling shore of the Great Territories proclaimed safe harbor and good fortune to any who should seek it. The ancient ones were dead, and from the ashes of their temples and overgrown tombs rose a new era of education, craftsmanship, and scientific advancement. Humans, dwarves, elves, gnomes, and others crossed by land and sea, abandoning the tatters of their nations for a bright future on distant shores.
The arcane, magic, and its mystical arts gave way to the inventions and discoveries of tinkerers, inventors, scholars, and chemists. Railways, cars, electricity and telephones wore away the selective knowledge of mages and wizards, the medical crafts of witches and healers dissipated, driven from smokey huts and marble convents into the sterile white walls of hospitals and rice paper pages of medical texts. Magic, once available to all who sought it’s secrets withdrew behind the closed doors of Universities, classrooms, and lecture halls. Its practicality was not entirely lost however as some families carried with them the inherent knowledge of their race and wrote down the spells, incantations, and knowledge of their forefathers, cherishing those gentler magics as heirlooms for future generations.

However the golden promises of the Territories was not all they had proclaimed. Many found hardship and resentment where there had been assurance of wholehearted integration and acceptance. Such was the realization of Marcel Bastian. In this new world, he had discovered that he was truly a child of no nation, belonging only to his tribe and their nomadic ways. Even here, in the sprawling metropolis of New Gate, there was no room for Romansche. Austragaria, Germania, Prussia, Slovenia, there was no border his people had not traveled over without rejection and reviled whispers. Accusations flew no matter where they drew their wagons. The curses of the old pantheon lingered, though his goddess and her teachings were far older, even she, the mother of earth and sky held no reverence in the books of clerics, paladins or mages. Gypsy, thief, vagabond, liar, cheat, dark-friend! The names slid from his skin like oil meeting water, but the sweat rolling down his back made his shirt cling uncomfortably to his body. Trapped in the scorching heat of the foundry, Marcel pressed deep into the shadows as his eyes darted in all directions, searching for escape. Scrap metal lay in large heaps throughout the factory, but in the red hot light of the billowing forges they were transformed into all sorts of monstrous shapes and demonic forms.

He swore one of the piles moved, but his mind was running wild with fear, egged on by the sharp, snarls and sneers of men and the piteous wails of their victim. The unfortunate soul cried out in agony but the wretched piercing scream cut off abruptly. Afterwards the factory was strangely quiet. The howling shrieks and repentant pleading had ceased, no longer echoing through the factory. The forge grew quiet except for the dull thrum of machinery and the clank of chains. It was very late, or perhaps very early. Outside the sky was dark, New Gate did not sleep, especially the industrial quarter. Perched at the base of the river, close to the sea, the overcrowded streets were rancid with waste and drowned in an excess of noise. Rattling carts, clattering machines, crying animals from slaughter-houses, the blast of barge horns and the constant loading and unloading of trucks drowned out the horrific sounds of murder. Still the din of the outside world as not enough to calm the thunderous beating of Marcel’s panicked heart.



Cautiously he leaned from his hiding place, dark eyes searching the eerie, burning light for the assailant. Seeing no one, he crept forward, sneaking toward the scene of the crime with the utmost care. His dark-vision was confused by the blazing inferno of the forges and liquid smelt, but he was Romasche, and a Tiefling at that. He was particularly talented at avoiding unwanted eyes. The scrape of a boot on concrete stopped him in his tracks. Marcel dropped behind a mound of scrap metal and peered through the gaps. On the main floor of the foundry a tall, lean figure stood over the mangled corpse of a dwarf. The cherry of the man's cigarette glowed hot between the silhouette his fingers as he exhaled a cloud of smoke then turned away from the body with chilling nonchalance. Marcel’s mouth went dry. He huddled frozen in fear, listening to the man’s retreating footsteps. The forge door opened and closed...Marcel fled through the back doors, looking over his shoulder all the way home.


When he returned to the factory the floor was a hive of uniformed officers, photographers, and clamoring reporters...

​

 

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The earth opened to receive him, an open mouth to the grave. A cavernous expanse of darkness spread where once there had been solid ground. An uncertain dread filled him as he stared into the bottomless void. Heat rushed up around him, the first inhale of the underworld breathing him in, burning his skin. The war in his mind melded with the background noise of the factory.
A vat of molten steel tipped forward, dumping its burning liquid contents into large form before tipping precariously backward and settling over the furnace. Men shouted, machinery rumbled, the constant bellow of the furnaces created a deafening white noise that nearly drowned out Marcel’s voice.
“Clovis!” his voice broke through the racket with a warning.

The tall Germanian elf stepped aside as a horse drawn cart weighed down with coal plodded by, rattling loudly across the uneven concrete. Clovis’ eyes lifted from the blood stain soaked into the stone. Now a week old and already so smudged that it could barely be distinguished from the rest of the trampled floor, the nondescript patch of brown had marked the end of an altogether unremarkable life.
Vito Bianchi, Florencian Veteran, braggart, gambler, and all around pain in the ass. The loud mouth dwarf had not lived a good life, but he certainly had not deserved such a violent end.
“I’m sorry.” Marcel said just beside him.

Clovis spared him a brief glance and a slow nod. He exhaled a stream of blue cigarette smoke, scuffing the stain with the toe of his boot.
The waifish Romani Tiefling was not tough, but he had withstood the nagging and interrogative brutality of the local badges with a wide eyed determination.
Kind of like a deer in the headlights…
“I just caught a brief glimpse of whoever...whatever...it was…” Marcel said “I have no idea what Vito was doing here. I shouldn’t have been here…” he trailed off, voice strained with an unspoken fear “Clovis...I don’t know if he said anything.”
A whistle shrieked down the line, startling the Tiefling and signaling the shift change for the afternoon. Machinery continued to roar and belch fire and flame as men began shouting end of day cheers to one another. Sadly, no drinks would be had after sweating over molten steel and raging fire.
“Stay calm.” Clovis flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the concrete “Marcel, if anyone comes to speak with you, do not say anything. Ja? You come find me first. Just like what we did last week with the Badges. You sit in my office and you let them ask you questions there.”
Marcel gave a slow and hollow nod “Yes...yes....and if it is worse than that?”
“We will deal with whoever or whatever comes our way. Just keep your mouth shut.” Clovis turned away, striding toward the stairs that lead up to his office “Chin up Marcel! You aren’t six feet under.”

 

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​

“Coffee!” Hope exclaimed cheerfully. She set a steaming mug of the black liquid on the desk, followed by a stack of dark brown files, all of them marked with tabs and notes. She tucked a few stray locks of her straight black hair behind her ear as she leafed through the file on top of the stack, then shot her employer Bartholomew James Blevitt, or just Bart, with an appraising look. “For a Monday you look remarkably put together.” a smug smile crept across her rose red lips.”
She did not know Bart that well, but he was a friend of her father’s.

Though Bart was much younger than her father , they had worked as partners for the New Gate city police and before that, shared the terrors of the Great War together. Malcolm Leicester had gone on to serve as the Chief of police, while Bart….well...how he had ended up here in this cheap office over a print shop was a mystery. Neither Bart nor her father had disclosed the full story, only bits and pieces. She was eager to needle the details out of Bart eventually, however she had only worked for the man a month and he was not exactly brimming with conversation or eager to hear the gossip she had heard from her friends. He was however an experienced beat cop and investigator. Better yet, he had a Knack for the unseen. She wanted to know what he knew, and talkative or not he was the only professional willing to take on an assistant! At least...a girl assistant. But Hope viewed her position as more of a partner in training! Not that she voiced that opinion. Not yet.

“That stack is more a’the same.” she gestured to the files on his desk “Robbery, arrest the con-man that took my money, find my husband’s mistress, who is my wife sleeping with, someone wants a Gutter Witch investigated on the premise that her seances are a sham….and then there is this one.”
She lifted the file to her face, peeking over it coyly with wide blue eyes “This'll wipe away those Monday blues, boss man. Homicide in a foundry, tossed by the detectives a week after it happened, the wife, the mistress, and the victim's squalling children all cry foul. They want some kinda justice…don't pay much though."

 

[Stickdom]

Amid the musty smell of this damp office, Hope's voice rang out like a bell. And not the sweet chimes of a church bell, more like the clatter of an alarm bell on a fire truck, constant and persistent. He had been in a slump for the past month, kettering through menial paperwork, overflowing files, and driveling reports as fast as his new assistant shoved them under his nose. He had always worked alone before now, well, not always. Her father, Malcolm Leicester, chief of police, hero of the common crowd, doer of good, had introduced Hope to him some time ago, and noted that she was looking for a job and wouldn't he like an assistant to help with the organization of his little business endeavor? If Malcolm hadn't been his oldest friend, he would have turned her down right away, which he did initially, but it was only afterward when he was taken to the side and told that there was more to this than it first appeared and Malcolm almost pleaded with him to keep an eye on her for the time being. So, far be it for Bartholomew Blevitt to turn down a favor from the man who saved his life on uncountable occasions, he owed Malcolm so much, a little babysitting would hardly be that much trouble, could it?

It turns out, it could. Barty rubbed his temples as he leaned forward with his elbows entrenched in the papers scattered around his desk, the last fumes of the cigarette in the ashtray floating up to the ceiling and making little clouds that he felt would rain on him any moment now. He hadn't slept in days, not that he ever slept well anymore since the war ended, nearly five years ago now. The headaches had been getting worse now, not just from the work he was doing, but his Knack had been jumping all over the place, leading his mind back and forth over seemingly random and useless pieces of cases all jumbled together as he tried to sort through the words on the reports in front of him. And here she was adding more fuel to the flames, waving at least three new headaches under his nose like steak in front of a starving dog.

"Alright, alright, take it easy." His voice felt dry and cracked in his throat. He hadn't had a stiff drink in days, as much as he tried to beg, borrow, or bum one from anyone who looked like they'd have liquor to spare. This new Prohibition Act was going to be the death of him, he swore it up and down his empty flask. A deep breath and short cough to clear out his throat, his tongue wiped around his teeth to wet his lips enough to speak, "We got a few cases still open, let's see about getting those sorted through first." He reached into the pile and pulled out some envelopes as if he knew by touch where to find them, but of course, in his mind, each paper, each case, all connected by threads only he could see, floating in the air like will-o-wisps from back home, threads he could touch and feel and pull at. Barty's left hand hovered in the air for a moment, fingers slowly waving as if he were playing an invisible piano in the speakeasy, as he sorted through the thought-threads there and found one that felt whole, following it down to its envelope and handing it to Hope standing next to him. "These are the findings on the Johnson robbery, send that out in the post right away." He grabbed another thread and traced it to several papers spread across the desk, stacked them neatly and put a paperclip on them, "Your father should find this one interesting, have him go over the Darkin Gang Heist again and I think they may want to question Pablovich for more information, it looks like an inside job." He traded the papers he held in his hand for the ones she held in hers, a new stream of threads floating up out of them as he came in contact with them. He didn't need to read them just yet, he closed his eyes to concentrate on them, on how they felt. He reached out and grabbed a thread that seemed particularly bright, there was a lot of spiritual commotion going on there. Fingers leafed through the stack until the met the page that had this juicy thread attached to it, and he let the rest of them fall fluttering to his desk as he opened his eyes to examine his new prize.

"Looks like we have ourselves a live one here. What can you tell me about this Gutter Witch case?"

 

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Hope lowered the file, her enthusiastic grin morphed into a stern eyed glare full of skeptical appraisal. She had thought this case would yank him out of the doldrums for sure! Bart had his own mystifying process for selecting cases. It seemed she had guessed wrong again.
Often he would just sit and stare at the stacks, shuffle them out of order, then shuffle them again until they made some form of sense, at least to him. Whatever force guided his hand, whatever he saw, Hope wanted to see it too. However, the man was a living train wreck, and if he didn’t put something in his body other than cigarette ash she was certain he wouldn’t live to teach her that process!

“Coffee.” she insisted and scooted the cup and saucer a little closer to Bart.
Out of spite she smacked the homicide file on top of the pile and yanked the Gutter Witch case from beneath it.
“Madam Bethesda Black is a small time fortune teller and entertainer on the upper end of the industrial quarter. Most of her clients are grieving widows and widowers looking for some kind of comfort from the other side…On Friday nights she hosts Seances in the back room of her apothecary.” Hope sat down in the sagging chair facing Bart’s desk and crossed her legs. “She caters to the middle class, people who can afford to dabble in the mystic arts without too much concern toward their legitimacy. The woman is Irish, by all appearances she’s just another smoke and mirror act behind beaded curtains.” She peered at him over the open file, trying gauge whether or not his interest in the otherwise unremarkable case was some kind of elaborate ruse.

**edit**

She sighed “Being a Gutter Witch however...there is some nefarious credibility to her art. She is reported to be a solution for certain unwanted female ailments...and any other number of back alley remedies…The woman interested in the investigation is the wife of a textile mill owner. Their daughter passed in a mysterious, freak accident and she sought the help of Madam Black. Apparently she was not yet at peace, like any grieving mother she wanted to make sure her daughter knew she was missed, or she wanted answers. Only somethin’ spooked her. She suspected foul play...or something more sinister.” Hope turned the page “Rather two faced if y’ask me. A Dry, pious church lady, seeing a Gutter Witch for communion with the dead. Didn’t get what she asked for--or got too much of what she asked for and now she wants some kind of….retribution.”
Hope snapped the file shut and held it up, brandishing it like a weapon “We close this shop down for necromancy or dark-arts or some other nonsense and it just pops up again under a different name. Madam Black might suffer the loss of a few month’s rent but there’s nothin’ we can charge her with! Nothin’ that will shut her down for good like this woman wants. I mean sure it pays good..."

 

[Stickdom]

Barty pushed the coffee gently away from his work space, taking care not to slosh any onto his ever-growing stack of papers and files. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture, but she had a habit of interjecting the most menial routines into his often scattered methods and throwing off his momentum. In fact. he had even had to hold back something of a mischievous smirk when Hope's expression turned from bright and sunny to a sharp stare, she was so easily flustered, it would almost be amusing if she wasn't constantly underfoot like a stray puppy. Still, she was sharp, she had potential to be as eagle-eyed and intuitive as he was, he just wished she could do it while toning down some of her gods-forsaken incessant energy. But he turned his attention back to the reports in front of him, shuffling through a few pages before scooping up several documents and slipping them into the small briefcase sitting on the floor next to his chair. "Remember, kid, pay is the reason to do most things around here. If it's worth a pretty penny, it's worth looking into for good measure, don't you think? Either she's out of a few months rent, or we are." Clipping the briefcase closed with a satisfying snap, he looped a few fingers around the handle and flipped it over his shoulder while he stood and rummaged through a few drawers for his other effects.

"I know you're still full of optimism and wonder at the world and all that, but once you've been around a few blocks, one paycheck seems as good as the next, it buys the same things." He said this dryly but with a light-hearted tone and a gleam in his eye, not letting on if he was teaching her to be sarcastic and bitter like him or just teasing her childish disposition. A few moments later, he'd fitted his timeworn hat onto his head and slipped a few odds and ends into his pockets, a small fabric pouch dangled next to a discreetly concealed flask in his belt, both fastened beside a slender leather holster sat snugly on his belt, presumably for his pistol or a large knife, he had as of yet not needed to reveal it in Hope's presence. Lastly, he went to the umbrella stand by the door, pulled out his slim black walking cane topped with a lacquer skull, playfully swinging it around in his fingers. and turning to hold the door open for Hope, saying with a wide grin, "Alright, Ms. Detective Extraordinaire, after you. Let's see if your unbridled enthusiasm can crack this case before my cynical, cold logic can."

 

[smallnscrappy]

Hope pursed her lips. She grabbed her short leather jacket and shrugged with a disgruntled huff before collecting the Black file and the Forge file. There would be plenty of time to pick at Bart during the walk! Maybe she could convince him to look it over...

Outside, she tucked the folders under her arm and scurried down the creaking stairs leaning down the side of the print shop. "Not much we can charge her with, Bart!" She stopped at the foot of the steps, kicking aside a black cat.
Crates of newspapers 'Wet or Dry, Opponents Debate City Central' stood in neat rows along the alley walls between the print shop and bookstore beside. Tied in neat bundles for the next day, the papers waited to be picked up by children on bikes or men in trucks.
A homeless man slept with an empty bottle behind some trashcans. Outside of their office the city was a hustle and bustle of lunch time traffic.

"Fraud..." She drawled "Defamation, Misrepresentation of Arcane Arts, maybe Plagarism..." Hope eyed him as they strode down the busy sidewalk. Horse carts, trucks, cars, and trolleys rumbled down the street, people pressed in and out of shops with parcels, boxes and bags. The city was electric with sound, color, smell, a hive of progress and productivity!
"We're not clergy, cant excommunicate her or smack her with blasphemy or slander or...whatever the heck those religious goons terrorize their congregations with."
They passed several closed bars, windows and doors boarded, painted with slapdash messages of 'Farewell Old Friends', or 'Drink Another Day'.

"I mean...Im not religious..." She eyed
him "Maybe you are. Didnt mean to disrespect. Its just Gutter magic. We cant put the choke on family magic."

 

[Stickdom]

"So, the world according to Hope is pretty much black and white, idn't it? Like that soggy newspaper there," he commented dryly, poking his cane at the stack of New York Times all bundled up in their roadside boxes. Bart hobbled along the sidewalk, using his cane along the way, but still able to keep up a brisk pace. His old war wounds were in his head more than his leg now, but he'd gotten used to the perpetual limp and awkward gait that it gave him, perhaps he saw it as a signature, a memento of his experiences. "Wet or Dry. Good or bad. Religious or heathen. Us or Them." Shooting a glance over his shoulder at her, he noticed the files she still carried along with her, and reached out his free hand to point at them, "Rich or broke. That's me, am I right?" He reached to his back and unclipped the top of the briefcase he had slung over his shoulder and held it open towards her for her to put the files in with their cousins. "There's a lot of reasons people do what they do, kid, and not all of them are one side of the coin or the other. Sometimes, they just do, for one reason or another, and it ain't always what they want." He turned to continue on, but then he felt as if she'd take his lecturing as a berating, as if she had done something wrong, he was lecturing himself more than anyone. So he followed it up with a hurried "But keep trying, kid, I know you're smart enough to think of some real reasons to put the squeeze on our Madame Black before we get there."

They rounded the corner and he slowed down his pace to get his bearings, leaning on the cane in his right hand and letting the fingers of his left hand sway through the air as if playing an invisible melody on a piano only he could see. Hope had been tailing after his brisk jaunt the whole way, so now he slowed down and let her catch up by his side. "Alright, kid, we're here on her street. If you wanna be a real sleuth, you gotta follow your gut, right here," as he poked her in the stomach with the end of his cane, accidentally leaving a dirt smudge behind on her leather jacket. "First test of the day, without looking at the street signs or apartment numbers, tell me where she's at and what she's up to." He turned to her and leaned heavily on his cane, a deep grin across his lips, "I'll make you a deal. If you can figure it out in the next thirty seconds," Bart gave the briefcase hanging by his hip a hearty slap, "I'll promise to look into that murder you're so keen on. Deal?"

 

[smallnscrappy]

"That doesn't really seem like a fair deal..." Hope chewed the inside of her cheek. She looked left, then right, eyes taking in the facades of the worn brick and tilting wood buildings. The looming, pristine facade of the police department stood like a diamond in the rough, overshadowing the decades worth of cobbled together storefronts, shopkeeps, and old tenements. Just a few streets beyond she could see the smoke stacks of the forge billowing out plumes of coal, ash and steam. For that very reason the streets were stained a faint grey, and the buildings that had not been white washed had a sooty film or streaks where the rain had cut through the grime. Her gut said to go that way...but...
A Tiefling wandered past them, humming to himself.

Dressed in black striped pants, a maroon shirt, patchwork vest and a faded wool jacket, embroidered and patched with flowers and scraps of multicolored cloth, he was not your every day New Gate resident. The Romansche gypsy wore very little ornamentation, but his pointed ears were pierced and several braided cords of colorful string and beads had been wrapped around his plumed tail. His skin, a sun kissed rose gold and brown, blended handsomely with his curly mahogany hair, which he wore in an unkempt mess between his four curled horns.

Something tugged in the pit of Hope's stomach.
She turned to Bart and presented him with her most triumphant smirk "I present to you, a lead. A gypsy Tiefling. We all know Gypsies deal in the unscrupulous arts. Whaddya think a'that?"


Marcel was indeed headed to Madam Black's, but for his own reasons. He sauntered down the street at a casual gait. He was determined to arm himself with at least some form of spiritual enchantment, should that thing ever return to the forge. He still had chills, and on more than one night since the murder he had woken up in a cold sweat, or refused to sleep altogether. He was running on fumes, his eyes felt like sandpaper, and there was a perpetual ringing in his ears. Perhaps Black would have something else...something to help him forget the memories for just a little while andsleep.

​

 

[Stickdom]

Watching his partner work her way through her thought processes gave Bart a feeling he hadn't felt in quite some time. It took him a moment to pinpoint it, but he thought he could feel the first premonitions of pride. But a moment later he had shaken the sentimental cobwebs out of his thoughts, she was barely his partner, she was his ward at best. Still, she had potential, buried under the layers of her wild trains of though and excessive energy. "Good start. Still missing a few things though." He pointed his cane down the rest of the street at all the other houses in turn. "This is an industrial district, known for working class on every corner. Gypsies aren't uncommon around here, so he could be going anywhere, but good on you for using your natural human prejudice to figure out the obvious."

A hearty clap of his hand on her shoulder conveyed his amusement, along with a good chuckle. "You're not going to get very far using just your eyes, kid, you hafta take it all in at once. Listen to the sounds. Breathe in the smells." He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, then remained quiet there for only a moment before walking down the street, eyeing each house as he passed it. "It's a Friday in the industrial district, so most folks will be getting paid today. She's a Gutter Witch living off of her soothsayings, most can only afford to come see her once they've cashed their paychecks, so she's preparing for company as much as she can. She's got no money until someone comes to see her, so she's living off of her week's savings, she can't have fresh groceries until tomorrow at least." He stopped outside of a door and pointed his cane up at the second story balcony above, from which a whole strand of garlic hung rotting off of the railing. "She must be superstitious to be in her profession, garlic keeps the spirits away, but these are from last week. And we know that she's Irish, and from the sharp smell of the blood pudding and mashed potatoes coming out of that window, I'd be willing to bet she's cooking the last of her rations until she can take a trip to the supermarket on Monday."

He looked back down to Hope standing by his side then up at the balcony again, swinging his cane to give her a playful smack on her hind end before heading for the door of the apartment building, "But by all means, let's follow our gypsy friend and see if he leads us up to your wicked witch."

 

[smallnscrappy]

Hope stared up at the balcony with a slack jaw for a little too long. She startled when Bart smacked her behind with his cane. How the hell had he spotted all that? Strange old man! Part of her wanted to point out that any Irish person without a thick wallet could be living in that apartment...but then again...he had a Knack and a damn accurate one.
At least she had been on the right track! She was optimistic. This could be learned. She didn't have to be born with some gift for the otherworldly...

But then again...

Spider webs flashed briefly in and out of her vision, small tendrils of silver threads that connected people to places, objects, animals, each other, and something beyond. In an instant those threads vanished. Hope was left standing several yards in Bart's wake, blinking and feeling stupid, wondering just what it was that she had seen!
"Good observations..." she muttered, jogging a few steps to catch up.

Just around the corner, the Tiefling leaned in a doorway shadowing a bright green door with stained glass panes. The storefront windows were also made from stained glass, though beaded velvet curtains were drawn, obscuring any light from filtering into the shop inside. He glanced over his shoulder and stepped inside. A small sign hung over the door 'Black Apothecary and Divination'.
Inside the dark, candle lit interior, bundles of herbs, fragrant spices, and clusters of bones dangled from ash poles hung across the ceiling. Several glass cases lined the walls, full of crystal balls, jars of herbs, teeth, runes, and glass beads carved with spells. Blessings and curses hung from the walls on ribbons, scrawled out in chicken, goat, cow, or far more valuable shades of bloody brown ink. The most powerful and rare of these was a charm of good fortune painted in the near black blood of a Dragon!

Marcel knew a fake when he saw one.
"Bethesda!" he called into the gloom of the musty shop. The bell on the door behind him rang as the door opened and shut. He turned, eyeing the odd pair that had just entered. A man leaning on a cane and a young woman...while they certainly looked middle class, they were hardly the Witch's usual customers. She dealt mainly in fortunes and herbs. The shelves behind the sagging counter were crammed with packages, jars, and canisters of powdered roots, seaweeds, herbs, and spices.
Far more precious ingredients were kept locked up in the back. A cauldron lid clattered shut, followed by the sound of a wooden spoon clattering to the floor and muttered curses.
Bethesda Black elbowed her way out of the store room, shoving thick glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. Old and hunched, she was a wiry old thing with a pile of grey hair knotted on top of her head and a multitude of gold, silver, copper, and enamel bangles rattling on her bony wrists.
"Who is it!' she squawked, peering around the store "Speak up!"
"You have customers, Mrs. Black." Marcel stepped aside for the pair, gesturing to the counter.
"Oh its you, Marcel." She waved a gnarled hand at him dismissively "I'll be right with you. Who is it! Speak up!"

 

[Stickdom]

Entering through the door of the old fortune-teller's shop, Bart felt a wave of lingering spiritual force begin rolling over him. The spectral thread he had followed here to this shop had met with a thousand others of its kind, coating every object in the room and connecting every corner the room to the others, as if a ghostly spider had weaved a web here from decades of potent memories and stagnant potential and he had been pulling on one of the strings. The sensation was so overwhelming he had to retract from his mind's supernatural eyes and draw his breath, a sickening nausea growing in his gut that made him glad he hadn't eaten anything today or he might have lost it onto the floor right then and there. But his composure held for the time being, and they had an objective here, he could stomach some supernatural discomfort for a few minutes. He still wasn't sure what he had been expecting of Madame Black when he arrived here for this case, but everything he had just witnessed told him that she was the real deal and they were both possibly in some very serious danger. As nonchalantly as was possible, he turned aside to look at a shelf full of oddments and miscellany, many of which still appeared to him to be brimming with some latent and malicious force, and in doing so he looked past Hope and whispered discreetly, "Don't. Touch. Anything."

Though he had only been joking about it outside, there was indeed the same gypsy the had seen on the street right there in the room with them. 'Fantastic,' he thought silently to himself, 'If even the gypsies are coming to her for charms and fortunes, she could be more of a threat than any of the curses she has sitting here on her shelves.' What made it worse was the fact that moments ago, he had been absolutely boiling with chaotic energies, to the point that even without his Knack activated, Bart could see that there was something sinister afoot. Not about the man himself, the forces seemed detached from him, as if he was not the original source, more like he had been bathed in it by way of proximity. But before he could think about it any further, it was at that moment that Madame Black herself, or so he guessed, appeared behind the counter, a shriveled and harmless looking old woman that could easily pass for some every-man's grandmother. Bart's voice didn't betray any of the suspicion he had built up since examining this room, a talent he had honed over many years of investigating. For all intents and purposes, he should come across as just another eager customer searching for a souvenir of the supernatural. He even added in a bit of an accent he had acquired from a Southern gentleman, just to add another layer to the wall of anonymity that separated him and her, as he knew from experience that the more unknown you were, the less power others could have over you, especially when dealing with magic.

"G'mornin', Ma'am! Mad'm Black, I presume? I heard that you are jist the lass I been needing to see. Name's 'Zekiel Kidd, and this here's muh niece, Beatrice. She's just here turnin' twenny-one, got a job workin abroad and came by to see me, idn't that nice? I promised her I'd take her to find one-a them spells as protects from wandering spirits and such, ya know the one with th' the amethyst rune sittin' on the jade turtle shell? My gran used t' swear by hers and now Beatrice here's needin' one herself." This was his game now, the talisman he'd asked of her was actually known to expand one's mind if done correctly, but genuine articles were rare, and quite possibly illegal due to the intoxicating and addictive effects it had. Whether she could produce a real one or not would give them some leads into the case, either in the direction of charging her with illegal black market sales if it was real, or else being able to denounce her as a fraud if the amulet was faked or replaced with something else. He had had serious concerns that she was far from being a fake, the convergence of spiritual pressure that was built up in this place would make any normal mind break under the strain of living near it alone. Still, he made his move, pawn in position, now he waited for her to respond with her own and prayed that she simply didn't curse him into being a toad for bothering her.

 

[smallnscrappy]

Hope's brows rose in alarm at Bart's menacing warning, then flew clear to her hairline when a completely different person addressed the witch! The man had more tricks up his sleeve than she had anticipated, but he molasses thick drawl he put on forced her bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing. Hope folded her arms across her chest and nodded primly, putting on her best impression of a doted-upon-niece for the old woman, who she suspected was nearly blind.
"I am going to Frankia!" she announced with an air of superiority "Can you imagine?"

The Tiefling squinted at her, then turned away, resting his elbows on the counter. Hope thought she saw him roll his eyes as he lit a cigarette with shaking hands. His tail swished back and forth like a cat's, subconsciously communicating his anxiety. She resisted the urge to elbow Bart and point wildly at the Gypsy. He'd already proven that nothing escaped his notice, but the game was still fun for her!

"No, luv." Madam Black replied flatly "Dangerous gentlemen abroad, jealous ladies too. Your uncle has your best interest in mind I bet. Lots a'cute hoors out to climb the social ladder." she rapped her gnarled knuckles on the counter "Are you an honest girl? Hm? Attend the temples? Observe the feast days and pray at the shrines?"
"Yes," Hope lied. Sort of. Her father had only taken her to the temple on the high holy days or during the most widely observed feasts. Winter's Gale, Summer Solstice. She had never put much effort into religion or observance of the different codes of morality laid down by more pious people. There were many churches devoted to the pantheon of gods, each with their own doctrine and clergy, it was too confusing. Worse, religion was the driving force behind the Dry! Because of those snobbish do-gooders she and the rest of the country couldn't get a drink when they needed one!

Madam Black scoffed and waved a hand with a rattle of the charms and bangles dangling from her wrist "Then I bid you ask for their blessings child! You will find plenty of sanctified charms from priests or paladins! Their blessed trinkets won't cost you so much. If your family had a Warding Turtle, they should'a kept it in their possession. No, it's impossible!"

Hope frowned "But Madam Black, the charm was broken so long ago..."
The witch laughed "Pity!" her cold grey eyes focused on Hope with penetrating intensity.

A chill ran up and down Hope's spine. Under the witch's gaze, the spiderwebs reappeared in her minds eye. She saw the forces at work behind the veil of the physical. Threads that connected everyone and everything in the room shot out in every direction. She wondered if this is what Bart saw...
The Tiefling glowed with a startling intensity, but the aura was not his own. Lines of deep purple clung to him, winding their way through the window and down the street in the same direction as the hideous, distorted energy. It flowed like muck in a gutter.
It was on the witch too! Buried beneath layers of more recent energy, Hope could see the same presence radiating around Madam Black...and something else...

A dark red eye pulsed on Madam Black's forehead. It stared back at her, unblinking but alive and menacing. An Evil Eye, a manufactured version of what Bart and Hope naturally possessed. It had eyes for only her, though. The longer she stared at it, the more unsettled Hope became. Her skin crawled and her throat tightened with nausea.
"I deal not in blessings of the church, but the old gods, Mister Kidd. I can hex those who wish 'er harm and curse those who wish 'er ill will or slander against 'er...these spells are simple an' will serve 'er well..." As she spoke, she pulled a small case from a shelf and opened it, presenting its contents to Marcel. She set a silver bullet on the counter, followed by a dagger. Both were polished to a high sheen and inscribed with small runes.

Marcel straightened, plucking up the dagger with practiced dexterity. His hands stopped shaking when they met the knife,. He flipped it back and forth expertly, testing the weight and the balance. Madam Black chuckled "Stoppit, you know Elven craftsmanship when you see it. It's been anointed. The slugs too." she gestured to the seven bullets sitting in the case.
"Austragarian?" he asked in a hushed tone.
She nodded curtly "What'll it be Mister Kidd? I have time now, I can arm your pretty niece with all manner a' spell, perhaps some delightful little tricks to play on those petty Frankish girls..."

 

[Stickdom]

The shriveled enchantress' cold demeanor seemed to chill the air around her words, the Dark Eye embedded into her seemed to pierce and rove over them, looking for something. Bart met its gaze for a second, but after a glance at him, it seemed to peer intently at his young assistant. Whatever it was designed to search for, it found Hope carrying it, and for a brief moment, Bart followed it and caught a flash of some sinister force that it had latched onto around the girl. He physically took a step closer to the counter, while from his mind he sent a curtain of scattered thoughts to distract and confuse the old woman's Eye and pull its gaze from Hope back to himself. He already knew that she could definitely see through his facade of a kindly old Southern gentleman, so demonstrating his own abilities would not expose him further, if anything it might gain her respect or at least her attention. He was not about to start a battle of minds here in her store, but he was making his stance very clear that they were not her typical clientele. "I see. Thank ye, Madame Black, but I 'spect we'll have to find somethin' else that's just as suitable for my li'l Beatrice here. We're not much for causin' other folks troubles, just keepin' ourselves to ourselves. If ye have a suitable ward or other around here, we might have ourselves a look, I reckon we'll pass on the hexin' and charmin' though, if ye'll excuse my sayin' so." He took 'Beatrice's' hand and gave it a hard squeeze, hopefully conveying to her that whatever was to happen or whatever they were to be given, it was precarious at best and dangerous otherwise, though his voice took on a quite different, almost doting tone with her, "What'dya say, Bea? See anythin' tickle yer fancy?"

The tiefling had been given a box of his own, and when he opened it to examine the items inside, Bart glanced over his shoulder to take a look for himself. Engraved bullets and a silver blade, those were the telltale signs that monsters lurked in the area, though how closely Bart could not tell. They were obviously blessed, the think mind-fog of dark energy could not cling to such artifacts, which surprised him after Madame Black's staunch insistence that she did not deal with the works of the holy practices. This she could not have managed to perform herself, she had connections, of course she had connections. "Pardon, friend, that's a nice shot you've got there. Mind if I take a look there?" It was a formality rather than asking permission, he reached out and took a bullet from the case and held its weight in his hand, instantly fixing his Knack onto it and trying to pierce its history, looking for any clue of where it came from, who had made it, and more importantly, what blessing had been put on it and what it was intended for.

 

[smallnscrappy]

"I..." Marcel trailed off, tail standing on end in alarm "I would prefer you didn't? I have not purchased it yet and my employer will be...pissed...if I don't..."
Madam Black chuckled, resting her chin in the palm of her gnarled hand, her elbow propped on the counter "Aye, that he'll be. Spits venom that one. Could always work for me Marce, could use a good card readin' gypsy. Does your boss have a piece for these?"
Following Bart's interference, the Evil Eye looked away quickly and seemed to search the shop in a frantic attempt to find something else of interest. Madam Black squinted at Bart suspiciously, as did the Evil Eye. It snapped to him, glaring as though disgruntled by his trickery before resuming a casual search of the shop and more polite observation of Hope.
Marcel scoffed "Of course he does. I think I will pass on telling fortunes...thank you for the offer Madam..."
She nodded "Someday, someday you will take me up on it. The cards will tell you." her eyes, physical and Evil, followed Hope as she circled around the store "Unless you're hunting Werewolves, shape-shifters or changelings and the like you'll have no use for that, Mister Kidd." she gestured to the bullet in Bart's hand "For a pretty penny I can outfit you with a Passage Stone, much like what my friend here is wearing." she gestured to the Borite crystal dangling on Marcel's neck "It'll help you travel unseen in the world, folks'll look at you but not quite see you."

Hope stayed close to Bart, hovering awkwardly in his wake. She stood on tiptoe, trying to look over his shoulder "What is it?"
"A bullet..." Madam Black chuckled "Not a trinket for young ladies off to Paris. Not many evil creatures terrorizing the neighborhood there, I should think."

 

[Stickdom]

It was clear that not all was as it seemed here. Bart could not seem to pick up any history behind the enchanted ammunition, whoever had put the blessing there had purposefully done their job in secret and very thoroughly. But from Madame Black's words and the faint traces of the magic he could grasp on it, there were hidden monsters afoot that whoever had sent this tiefling to purchase these weapons knew about and was planning to combat. The reason Madame Black wore an Evil Eye became more apparent, it was to be on the lookout for any such characters who entered her store looking for trouble, she was perhaps involved in far more than the simple misguided rituals that he and Hope had originally come here to investigate. He had a newfound respect for her, and felt a little bit apologetic and uneasy about having thrown his abilities at her for prying into their business. Now he wasn't sure if she would take offense or even revenge in some way. His instincts told him that digging any deeper at this moment would be unwise, they would have to come back to this case from a new, better prepared angle.

"Pardon me, friend, I meant nothin' by it," he stammered, trying his best to sound sorry as he placed the bullet back into the case for Marcel. "I reckon'll have plenty of time to find my Beatrice a right good ol' charm afore she heads abroad," he took Hope by the hand again, this time giving several short squeezes as he took another step back, the signal that they had worn out their welcome and it was time to go, "We'll come back 'round 'nd take another look if somethin' here caught her fancy. Thank ya for your time, Mizz Black, and good luck to you, fella, whatever you're after, I hope ya get it first." He gave a tip of his hat as he put his free hand on the door handle, swinging it open behind Hope and reaching out with the other hand holding the cane to gently prod her in the direction of the doorway. "Good day."

 

[smallnscrappy]

"Uh-bye!" Hope looked between Madam Black and Bart in bewilderment. She stumbled behind him, allowing herself to be tugged back outside through the shops entrance. She nearly tripped over the threshold!

Outside, she held on to Bart's hand "Hey! What was that? There was a lot of freaky stuff in there-" she stopped talking when the bell rang and Marcel emerged from the shop, hands in his pockets.
The tiefling eyed them warily, tail swishing from side to side. Finally he broke left, hurrying toward the foundry at a brisk walk.

Hope squinted, spotting the sheathed dagger tucked in the back of his belt. Against her better judgement, or rather Bart's, she marched after him, dragging Bart behind her with her tiny hand grasping his calloused palm.

Marcel meandered ahead of them, slipping between carts, parked trucks, clusters of workers, groups of street kids and vendors shouting from stalls. He cut through a slim market, shoving through a crowded street jammed with salvaged tents, lean-tos, and weathered storefronts. The street was crowded with the produce heavy crates of grocers, women toting baskets for the day's shopping and piles of refuse. Hope dragged Bart along, weaving through stacks of cabbage, piles of apples, and baskets of bread.

Her father's office loomed over everything, a clean black brick building surroubded by wrought iron fence. The police station had been built recently and cast threatening, authoritative shadow over the neighborhood. The old wood and brick storefronts were homely by comparison.
Marcel turned down another street, glancing over his shoulder before loitering in front of a white washed physician's office.
A silver haired elf emerged from the shop with a cigarette between his lips. He forced a wolfish grin at the tiefling and offered him a dark brown vial before they turned together and strode down the street. They walked together, the elf prowling and the tiefling skulking toward the billowing smokestacks of the foundry.
Marcel gave the dagger to the elf as they walked. The air quickly became much more congested and polluted as they neared the factory. The acrid stench of chemicals, metal, ash, and coal choked the streets and a dense cloud of ash and steam settled over the ramshackle tenaments. Soon, warehouses and slaughter houses rose up on either side of the street. Hope jumped when a gun went off. A troll glared at her from the doorway of a meat locker. He hoisted a freshly killed cow up by its back legs with one arm and stuck it on a meat hook.

She lost sight of the pair!
"Where'd they go?!"

 

[smallnscrappy]

copied to discord

 

[smallnscrappy]

(Missing post)


Not long after Clovis' departure from Mateo and Xiu's, another caller came knocking. A tall, lean man of dark countenance loomed in the office's doorway. He rapped calloused fingers tipped in blackened nails against the window pane of the door, and forced a smile at which ever answered. His hair was dark brown, wavy, and shaved on the sides, greased into haphazard place against his bony skull. It was the style, but he made it look wild and bedraggled. His clothes were nice, pressed and tailored, he even had circular brass cufflinks and a matching tie pin. "The doctor is in I assume...." his voice was sharp and grating, as though it had been used harshly and his eyes....his eyes were deep, keen, and an ugly red brown in the set of his sharp cheek bones and broken nose.(edited)


ScungyWumbus03/19/2019


Matteo let out a soft sigh of exasperation before answering the front door, his subdued demeanor even more disinterested-looking than normal once he saw who was standing on the other side of the door. "Apologies, but I'm not taking patients currently... I have errands to run..." He explained with a completely neutral tone in his voice, his eyes somewhat glazed over as he ran the hand which wasn't holding the doorknob through his curls. If there was anything that Mateo had learned since he moved to the city, it was that greasy guys in suits weren't to be trusted. Especially not if they came knocking at the door to your home. He wasn't about to offer a warm welcome into his practice to a man who was clearly suspicious.(edited)


shablagoo03/19/2019


"You are mistaken, sir." he replied "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Frank Ludolf. I was sent on behalf of the widow to collect the remains of her husband. Despite the mangled state of the corpse---I am told---she wishes to host the wake at home and burial amongst relatives." his thin smile grew thinner still "Dwarves...their traditions are somewhat behind the times. You understand."


ScungyWumbus03/19/2019


Matteo nestled his hands in his pockets and looked back at where the body was being stored before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. "I see... One moment." He commented before closing the door, and though he was incredibly suspicious about the man's intentions, he wasn't incredibly worried about any problems arising from giving Frank the body. He had a quick chat with Xiuying about the cop at the door and asked if she could help take the body out to the stranger's car. Upon agreeing, the Tiefling woman picked up the bodybag in a fireman's carry and walked back over to the door. "Here's the body." Xiu said plainly as she looked up at the man, a cigarette burning between her lips and smoke billowing out of her nostrils.(edited)


shablagoo03/19/2019


"Most appreciative." he replied evenly "My car is just out front. But first, tell me, I realize the police have had their sticky fingers all over my dear friend's corpse. But has anyone else come calling, asking to see him? Any friends...co-workers....associates?" Frank did not step forward to take the body. Nor...did he seem to have a car available to transport it! The street outside was strangely vacant.


ScungyWumbus03/19/2019


Xiu hesitated a bit, definitely not willing to trust this guy with the knowledge of their meeting with Clovis. She couldn't help but consider him a threat, especially with how desolate and quiet it was outside. "Not that I know of. I'll ask my husband." With that, she closed the door and set the body back down on an exam table before reconvening with Mateo. She placed her revolver in the back of her overalls in case things escalated and she needed to control the situation. Matteo found her worries plausible, if unlikely, but he wasn't about to not back her up. As such, the skittish man answered the door again with her, and this time he was carrying the body on one of his shoulders like a fancy carpet. "Nobody's come for the body other than the cops who brought him here." The doctor explained, his almost perpetually exhausted-looking expression near-perfectly masquerading his lie.(edited)


shablagoo03/19/2019


"You know, I got'a sense for these things." Frank held up a long, bony finger and tsked "I got a sense for when someone is tellin' the truth or not. Someone lies and my ears, they just go crazy!" his gravelly voice deepened, growing more menacing as he spoke "And right now they are just ringing." he placed a hand on Mateo's chest, shoving him back into the building. Once inside, Frank seemed to grow. He grew lankier, his limbs stretched until his clothes were comically short around his wrists and ankles. His face stretched too, growing more pointed and canine "Let's try this again!" he snarled though a growing muzzle "Let's pretend you did't just fuckin' lie to me."

March 20, 2019

ScungyWumbus03/20/2019


"Fuck, Matt! He's a werewolf!" Xiuying shouted as she drew her gun and fired a pair of shots at the werewolf's torso. Her aim was to stun him a bit in order to land some more permanently disabling shots on his limbs. After being thrown away from the door, Matteo scrambled deeper into his practice and used the heavy stone exam tables that were fused go the ground as a protective barrier. The shots of his beloved's gun caused him to panic for a few moments like always, but the danger that Frank posed was a bit more stressful to the doctor than his anxiety about guns was. He had some colloidal silver on his person as per Clovis's recommendation, but he hadn't yet thought of how best to put it to use.(edited)


shablagoo03/20/2019


Frank bellowed angrily an Xiu, recoiling awkwardky in the now tight space. Blood spilled from his chest and arms, but the wounds did not last long. They closed quickly. His flesh knit back together, stemming the flow of crimson that stained his sparse furr and smeared across the floor. "Not silver, stupid girl!" Frank snarled. He scrambled after Xiu, head nearly bumping the ceiling as he scrambled over the desk.(edited)


ScungyWumbus03/20/2019


Matteo took advantage of Frank's turning his back to him in order to slice his elbow with one of his scalpels made from antibacterial silver. He considered himself incredibly lucky to have recently made the upgrade from steel scalpels due to the inconvenience of needing to frequently disinfect them. Xiu's small size and familiarity with the first floor of her home led to a considerable mobility advantage over the towering werewolf. Seeing as how she couldn't damage Frank with conventional weaponry, she hoped that a soap-soaked cloth bandage over his eyes would impede him enough.(edited)


shablagoo03/20/2019


Frank howled in agony when the silver sliced through his arm. His blood bubbled and boiled, hissing and steaming where the blade had cut. This time the wound did not heal and he did not chase after Xiu. The soapy rag slapped across his eyes with a wet and sloppy SPLAP. A low growl rumbled from within Frank's chest as he grasped the rag, tugging it from his half man, half wolf snout. He was only partially transformed, more man than animal. His ears were especially long, as were his fingers and limbs. He was covered in patches of coarse fur, and his mouth was canine while his eyes remained mostly human! Without the light of the moon, he was only able to shift into this bizarre hybrid form. His animalistic instincts were not dulled however, and he had a job to do. Frank crouched over the corpse of Vito the dwarf and tore an arm from its socket.



With a squelch, a pop, and the crackle of breaking sinew, he held the arm aloft, tilted his head back, and gulped it down with the relish of a beast starved by winter. He did not even have to chew before tearing the second arm free.

March 27, 2019

shablagoo03/27/2019


When Frank had finished with all but the head and torso, he retched and let out a low grow. Less man and more beast in his dreadful half morphed state, he snapped at Xiu, hackles rising as he chewed off the last identifying remnants of the dwarf. Finished with his awful feast, Frank looked up at Matteo and Xiu, sniffing the air. "German..." He growled "Tobacco and metal..." his lips curled in a bloody canine smile before he pressed his nose to the ground, sniffing "He was here. I smell him." He was talking to himself more than the couple. His work here was almost done. Now to find the man he should have killed in the first place!

March 28, 2019

ScungyWumbus03/28/2019


The sight of the werewolf devouring the dwarf's body was a gruesome and horrifying one, but Xiuying and Matteo had both seen their fair share of carnage in their lives. The former grew up having seen neighbors, community members, even family members beaten, bloodied, and sometimes killed by police and Pinkertons for their protests or even just their national origin. The latter had seen hell on Earth in the trenches, bodies blown to shreds by artillery shells, comrades with their heads split open by chunks of shrapnel, and all too many young men and women riddled with bullet wounds and left to die bleeding out in a muddy ditch. That desensitization coupled with the distraction of the werewolf allowed the couple to regroup and study their foe. Neither of them were saying anything in that moment, their attention solely focused on watching Frank's every move.

March 30, 2019

shablagoo03/30/2019


Frank hunched low over the gore of the dwarf's remains and pressed his ugly snout to the floor. He grinned, rising suddenly and shifting back into the shape of a man before heading out the front door and sniffing the air. He took off at a run, grinning from ear to ear with sharp teeth, like a hound dog on the scent of a raccoon! His prey was close. He could practically taste his second meal! Frank ran for the market, scattering people left and right. They took one look at a running man with a bloody face and got out of the way quick!

 

[smallnscrappy]

ScungyWumbus03/30/2019


"I'm going after him!" Xiuying shouted before bolting out the door having seen Frank flee the practice, leaving her husband behind so he could choose whether or not he wanted to accompany her. She had a burning look of determination in her eyes as she clutched the handle of her gun and started invoking her knack. Before she left, though, Matteo caught her at the door, holding three silver bullets in his hand. Cursed relics from the War, he called them "Wait, wait... Take these so you don't die, okay...?" He asked with a wry chuckle as he brushed a few stray coils of hair from his face. He was well aware of how dangerously Xiuying lived. He certainly wouldn't have gotten involved with her knowing about her revolutionary activism if he wasn't. If she got chopped to bits during a fight, he'd always be there to put her back together. "Thanks, Matt. I'll try not to get fucked up too bad..." She assured him with an enthused laugh, her fangs showing prominently as she sent him a toothy grin. With that, she quickly ran out of their home and dashed through the surrounding alleyways, and she used the trail of dripping blood left behind by her target to track him.(edited)


shablagoo03/30/2019


Frank skulked ahead of Xiu at an odd, uncomfortable looking gait. He wobbled and bent out of the way of sheds and vendors, stumbling through the crowds of afternoon shoppers who uttered curses and threw rude gestures in his direction. Every so often he would stop and sniff the air, sometimes even bending to smell or lick the cobble stones. Werewolves were an odd bunch! It was a cruel disease and curse, and it sometimes stuck to families for generations, transferring from parents to offspring. For the most part werewolves stuck to their own kind, lurking in forests and rural areas lest religious or medical professionals lock them away for study. Even a feral life was better than living as a medical experiment in an asylum! People scattered away from Frank as though he were a leper. They only had to take one look at the gangly, partially transformed creature to know that he was the carrier of a sinister disease and a violent, uncontrollable creature of the night. Frank stopped suddenly, searching the market square for any sign of his prey. Seeing none, he continued to sniff, becoming more and more canine the longer he hunted. His limbs crackled and popped, growing in length and strength as he shifted from man into half-wolf. Skin colored, hairy, and trapped in the awkward confines of a too small suit, he was comically grotesque in the daylight.



Cats screamed and fled, dogs howled in apartments or dashed from alley ways or out from warehouses, baying and snarling until the entire street was overwhelmed with their racket. Urged by the multitude of barks from the crazed city strays, Frank threw back his head and emitted a low, lonesome howl. He loped ahead on all fours, oblivious to Xiu running in his wake.

 

[smallnscrappy]

Stickdom03/27/2019


Bart was silent as he exited Madame Black’s shop, gripping so tightly to Hope’s hand that his fingers began to cramp and sweat. He pulled her off to the side, ducking into the entrance of an alley and only letting go of her hand to pull out his flask and take a long, hard swing of his liquid courage, Prohibition be hanged. He leaned against the coolness of the brick wall, gathering his wits again and shaking off the mental cobwebs that cling to his thoughts after the encounter inside the shop. “That was too close. You can’t open up to people like that, kid.” He knew she wouldn’t have any idea what he meant, but he hoped his tone conveyed his trepidation well enough. He wasn’t sure just what it was that had come over him, but the overwhelming presence in the atmosphere had shaken him more than he had been in a long time, maybe even since the war. He had encountered some of the darker magics then, and this brought back too many night terrors he had for years now. But when Marcel left the shop, Bart perked up his head, noticing how the tiefling shifted and skulked his way down the street, and it was apparent he was trying not to be followed, which is exactly what Bart knew he would do. He saw Hope watching too, and nudged her with his elbow and nodded after Marcel’s path. “Stay close, Hope, I don’t know what exactly we’re getting into, but my gut is telling me this Black case is a lot bigger on the inside. Ya with me?”



They took off together, following after Marcel, tracking him along his winding path, but staying back just far enough to remain inconspicuous. He watched the tall and slender elf emerge from the Physician’s Clinic, meet up with this suspicious tiefling, and then continue down the street together. Bart, waiting around the corner of the block with Hope, had closed his eyes to concentrate his energy towards them, trying to pick up any ethereal clues he could, try to discern their motives or intent. It was at that moment the sound of a gunshot went off and Bart quickly pushed Hope back to the wall and stood as a shield in front of her, flaring the loose hem of his coat over them to provide what little protection it could, drawing a hidden magic-rod from an inside pocket and muttering a quick spell of warding over the jacket. When a moment passed and neither of them seemed injured, he stepped back to look around, letting Hope ease off the safety of the wall. A sheepish grimace came over his face when he saw the source, looking at the ground. “Sorry.... habit.” He looked back down the street to their quarry and saw they were gone. “Damn it. We lost them.”(edited)


shablagoo03/27/2019


Hope, for lack of a better word, was absolutely flabbergasted. She remained pressed to the wall for longer than was necessary, staring at her mentor with flushed cheeks and a mouth scrunched somewhere between a smile and a gasp. The result was much like a deformed turnip or a beet. Bart had moved faster than greased lightning! Before she had even heard the gunshot, he had shoved her against the wall, shielded her, and cast a spell! She could only snap her fingers to kindle a flame, nevermind stop a bullet... Hope looked one way, and then another, searching the street for the gunman. Perhaps it had been a vehicle misfiring? "That was mighty slick there..." she straightened, preening her hair back into place. Hope patted her rosy cheeks, as though she could spank away the blush.



Her father had strange ticks like that. Most people returning from the war did. They would stare into the distance, jump at loud sounds, hide during thunderstorms or cower in bathrooms during the Festival of Lights or Independence Week. The war had left many scars, and not all of them were physical. Self medicating, as Bart had just done with his flask, had spurred the law into Prohibition. Her father drank too, or had drank. She imagined Malcolm had a decent stash of spirits in the cellar, but how would the chief of police explain a collection of fine brandy and bourbon to his colleagues. "Lessgo..." she shoved her hands into her pockets, nodding up the street. Something itched in the back of her mind. Call it a hunch, a nagging suspicion, or even a premonition, somehow she knew Marcel and his companion were just around the corner.(edited)


Stickdom03/27/2019


Bart looked across the street at the butcher hoisting the freshly-shot steer onto a meat hook, and he simply pointed at it and said “Cow” under his breath, as if to explain the gunshot to Hope in its entirety. A thought crossed his mind from seemingly nowhere, ‘When I bite the dust, that’s how I want to go. Just quick and painless.’* He had to physically shake his head to push these kinds of thoughts out, exposure to the darker arts tended to bring these kinds of dangerous seeds to plant in one’s mind, and Bart had taken in an exceptionally large dose of Madame Black’s ominous sorcery. He looked to Hope, once again ensuring she was all right. She was flushed and shaken but uninjured, so he assumed there was no harm done to her. “I’m sorry about... that.” He looked at the ground at the last word, not sure if his reaction was purely instinctive or more than that, but he tried not to think about how the red tint on her cheeks made her look now.



He tucked the magical wand back into the outside pocket of his coat now, keeping his hand tightly on it in his pocket. When hope beckoned him on, he fought a faint glimmer of magic from her, just a quick wave of capability that washed over her, and he could tell she had tapped into some insight about the two they were following. He smiled grimly, she was catching on to his tricks, probably more on her own traits than his teaching, which he rarely did formally anyway. But he managed to catch a whiff of what she had latched onto and he also caught on that the two they were following were probably just around the corner. Putting his hand in front of her protectively, he gestured for her to follow him. “I don’t know what we’re getting into, but if this goes upside down, I want you to get somewhere safe. You hear me?”


shablagoo03/27/2019


"Uh huh." Hope patted herself down, searching for an imaginary weapon. She nearly panicked, realizing that other than a nail file and a pen---she was unarmed "Say uh...Bart...." she turned out her pockets for the full effect, flicking some lint onto the ground "When do I get a weapon? Because if we are running into heat any time soon I'd really rather not scuffle with my manicure!" Her nails weren't manicured, and she had a few papercuts. She followed Bart around the corner, and they came face to face with the silver haired elf. He was waiting on the other side of the brick wall, arms folded over his chest. Marcel the Tiefling stood just behind him, tail curling in a barely restrained show of anxiety. He stared past the elf with wide eyes "That's them, Clovis..." he whispered, pointing at the odd pair. Clovis had at least a few inches over Bart, but like most elves he was lean and no where near as broad shouldered. Hope stopped looking at Bart's shoulders. Clovis, apparently, smiled not unlike a wolf. It was more of a sneer or a scowl than a pleasant flashing of the teeth. He was handsome, but in a frightening and arrogant way. "Hallo," he said flatly, arching an imperious brow.

March 30, 2019

shablagoo03/30/2019


"Zeh well to do Southern Gentleman and his Parisian niece..." An unseen force pressed against Bart and Hope's magical awareness as the Germanian Elf spoke. His cold blue eyes shifted between them, searching for weakness. Hope shuddered, taking a measured step back. It felt as though she had hung upside down for too long, as if her head were full of blood. Her ears hurt and her jaw tingled from the pressure on her sinuses. Radio static interrupted her thoughts followed by an overwhelming sense of dejavu! She felt dizzy and nauseous. "Bart..." Hope tugged his sleeve "He has a Knack-" Was it magic? Was it him? The invisible pressure was nauseating and the spiderwebs of her intuition flickered in and out of her vision. Something angry stirred within her, rising to the challenge of an enemy intrusion. Suddenly the world was illuminated by cobwebs of magic, spirit, and psychic energy. The air around Clovis was warped, twisting and bending like heat waves rising from the street in summer.(edited)


Stickdom03/30/2019


Rounding the corner to come face to face with their mark caught Bart momentarily by surprise. But when the tall elf spoke, his sudden perplexion turned to a simmering bitterness, the sound of his voice carried the thick accent of the enemy he had fought in The War. His mouth hung open for a second too long as a haze of red washed over his vision and a stream of gruesome pictures played through his mind one after the other in fast repetition. But then came the prodding of another's mind, it felt like the elf was pushing against those very thoughts, and so Bart immediately collected himself, drawing those images back behind the iron wall of his subconscious, though he was sure the elf had at least caught a glimpse of one or two of them. In response, Bart did not press back with his own mind, but drew up every mental defense he had, forming a barrier of incoherent nonsensical thoughts to throw static back to the mind of this prying intruder. As Hope took a step back, Bart's hand reached out to take hers firmly, giving it a reassuring grip, passing some of his mental strength to relieve some of the pressure and keep her from falling under this stranger's sway. His own knack was similar, but fundamentally different, from this psychic attack, his abilities focused more on how a thing felt rather than how a person thought, so he was not sure he could entirely fend off this assault if it kept up for much longer, so he was preparing to make an attack of his own should he need to do so to protect Hope and himself. "I beg yer pardon, sir." His put on his own fake accent again, though he was almost sure the other man had seen through it already, "I don't reckon we've met before, though I recognize yer friend there. Shud I know ya as well?" His tone was friendly, but his hand not holding onto Hope's was tightened around the head of his cane, unsure what to expect next.(edited)


shablagoo03/30/2019


'Schleich dich!' Clovis spat at Bart's shoes "Get lost, stop following us." "We werent following you!" Hope protested, perhaps too loudly. "Ya? You just happen to leave the same shop as my friend here and go through all that trouble to keep up with him at zeh market? Now you turn down a dark and forboding alley way with your blunderingk uncle? Or is he your employer? Hm?" Clovis had seen just enough to know they were lying, but he didnt know to what extent. "I dont like what you are implying!" Hope squawked. Alarm bells were ringing in her head now, but she wasnt about to back down! She didnt know what was good for her. Worse, Hope had her father's temper. Once the train left the station there was no way in hell it was stopping, not without colliding into another train or running out of stream...or derailing in a fit of rage...



"And I do not like beingk followed by a hussie and her John!" Clovis snapped Hope saw red, and then black. Hussie. HUSSIE. Hope stepped up to the plate, shoving past Bart as she inflated, drawing herself up to her full height of an imposing four foot eleven. Somehow she managed to stare down her nose at Clovis. "Listen here-mister!"



Clovis straightened as well, smiling triumphantly. He did actually look down his nose at her.

March 31, 2019

Stickdom03/31/2019


Bart defensively put his arm in Hope's path to keep her from getting too close to this man and making a move they might both regret. He knew this elf was dangerous, but just how so and what he might do, he wasn't sure. He had already shown some power with his mind, which was the first thing most underestimated since it was not easily visible, and he knew elves were physically stronger and quicker than most humans, and Hope was... intimidating but untrained. It was better to let him make the first moves and be on guard for them rather than taking fast action and risk exposing one of their own openings. "I think my associate would appreciate if you didn't to speak about her that way. She really is a sensitive and emotional girl, after all."



He had dropped the fake accent, disguises obviously wasn't going to buy them any ground here if the elf had already seen through them, which he obviously had. So he produced his wallet and flipped out his metal badge, labeled "Bart B., Detective", though he technically wasn't anymore, he still kept it for its obvious uses. Still, he didn't see any reason to give out his real name to this psychic, names had power for people like him. "I'm Detective Bartimus Blake, and this is my apprentice, Hope." He put his hand over her shoulder, not only as a gesture but a way for him to continue to feed his mental energy into her to help her keep her mind shielded. He felt bad about having to reveal her real name, but he knew this elf had probably already pulled it from her head and if Bart said anything different, he would lose any credibility. "And it's my job to turn down dark foreboding alleyways if it means keeping the peace. I followed your friend from the shop because of what he's got in that bag there." He pointed to the items Madame Black had given to Marcel, glaring Clovis directly into his smug face and grinning in a way that made his orcish teeth look more pointed than usual. "and I know silver's for making fancy forks and hunting abominations, which makes it highly contraband. Now which one are you up to today?"


shablagoo03/31/2019


"Defense against the dark arts!" Clovis said lightly. His tone was almost mocking. There was indeed a lot of power in a name. Those that could see in the spiritual realm had their own tools and threads with which to navigate. Hope and Bart could see the magical cords of the supernatural that bound the world together. Clovis could see the opposite, the auras and projections of the mind. Clouds of memories, thought, and emotion flashed around people in a dizzying array of images like tarot cards. Bart's name was a half truth, so the images were unclear and jumbled. Rifles, blood, scales of law and order, they flickered in and out of view before fading behind the veil of Bart's misleading defenses. His aura was murky. Hope's on the other hand burned bright and clear. Small, flickering flames danced around her, lights of hope and optimism, strangled by fear and uncertainty. Her name was fitting. The pressure of the elf's mind eased with Bart's hand on her shoulder. Hope could still feel his 'eyes' one her. Spiritual threads clustered around him, taking shape as dozens of transparent eyes spinning around his head similar to the Evil Eye on Madam Black's forehead. Except Clovis' seemed as much a part of him as the dozens of illuminated threads draped over his shoulders, like a chaotic cloak.



Psychic energy was unsettling, Hope struggled to stand up to it. She puffed up the smothered flame of spiritual power sitting in her chest, but found it was pathetically weak against the simmering mirage of Clovis' mind. She felt choked, and drew closer to Bart, hoping to draw strength from him like a moth fluttering to a lantern. One of the eyes continued to study her, unblinking, and menacing. Marcel jumped at the mention of the paper bag under his jacket. His ears stood straight and his tail stiffened when the din of the neighborhood dogs began. A cat skittered past them, hairs standing on end, and a dozen or more rats scurried toward the safety of the gutters as the chorus of howls grew louder. "What the hell-!" Hope grabbed Bart's arm. Marcel covered his ears. And all of Clovis' eyes seemed to turn inward-jarred by the unpleasant noise.(edited)


Stickdom03/31/2019


Bart nearly scoffed at the elf's response, He caught the tinge of disdain with which the elf spoke to him and it left a bitter iron taste in his mouth. He studied the threads which spun and flickered off of them, and he caught glimpses of a strange mixture of avarice, cunning, greed, and ambition. Whoever this elf was, he was dangerous, his very essence was seeped with all of the characteristics that Bart loathed. But even these did not explain the purpose of their presence here, and so Bart pressed on. "Funny. So you're telling me you went to a witch who practices dark arts in a shop infested with dark arts to get artifacts that she soaked in dark arts... all to fight the dark arts? Sounds like a pretty fair story to me, what do you think, Hope?" He gave her an amused, sidelong glance over his shoulder and gave her a hearty clap on the back, partially to ease her tension and snap her out of her trance so that the elf's inner eyes couldn't put her under their full attention. He stared back at the eyes in turn, letting his mental threads chase after them, winding towards them, weaving a tapestry of thoughts before them to catch their gaze and keep them from focusing on one thing for too long. The last thing he needed was this elf getting into their heads and figuring them both out before Bart did the same to him and this tiefling, who apprently seemed to be less of a threat on his own anyway, at least in the realm of magic of the minds.


Stickdom03/31/2019


"Alright, so what is this all... really... abou-" He trailed off at the feeling of dozens of tiny essences moving quickly from them, the presence of all of the small creatures of the streets taking flight was a sign that something was terribly wrong. Bart stepped in between Hope and the other two, stepping back and edging her towards a safely open area of the sidewalk. At the sound of the howling, he covered his good ear with one hand, the other holding his cane at the ready, the point raised off the ground like a weapon now, though he was not sure where the threat was going to come from first, these two they had been interrogating or the howling coming down the street behind them. As all of the Inner Eyes the elf had been using suddenly dissipated, so too did the threads of consciousness he had been manipulating, the sound of the screeching was so jarring and disorienting, he could not concentrate on keeping them intact. He quickly readied himself for a fight of some kind, keeping his and Hope's distance from every direction, and calling out to the elf and his companion, "So, do I need to finish with you first before we take care of this, or is this your doing too?"

 

[smallnscrappy]

shablagoo03/31/2019


"Do Iook like a fucking clergyman?" Clovis sneered. He drew a long, blackened knife from a sheath beneath his leather jacket. The blade and handle were made of a single piece of damascus metal, twisted at the end to form a spiraled grip and a sharpened pommel that could double as a weapon if needed. It was a wand, one of very specialized use, fittingly called a Bayonet. Germanians had outfitted their telepaths and telekinetics with the wicked magical weapons in order to channel and focus their Knacks, creating a very unique form of psychological warfare. The blade shimmered with the same energy as Clovis' many eyes. It amplified and focused his projections. He held it at length as he strode up beside Bart and Hope, eyes narrowing with spite "This is your fault. You led it right to us." "What is it!" Hope exclaimed "I dont have a weapon!" Marcel loaded the silver bullets into a revolver with shaking hands, uttering prayers under his breath. Just in time too...a long, mangled hand or paw, or both, touched down on the street in front of the alley, followed by the head of a canine-man-beast. His bloody lips curled up in an ugly snarl as he growled, skulking forward on all four bony, thinly haired limbs. The hideous yellow eyes of the werewolf were wild with hunger, glaring at the people in the alley with human hatred and animalistic recklessness. Frank growled low in his throat, loping forward cautiously. There were two more than he had expected. "Found you!" He barked "Run or pray. I dont give a shit." "Oh my god..." Marcel whispered, voice cracking. Clovis grinned. Hope froze, staring over Bart's shoulder in horror "What...the hell...is that!" She errupted into a terrified scream.

April 2, 2019

Stickdom04/02/2019


He had barely opened his mouth to reply to the elf's rudeness when he had drawn his weapon, one Bart knew on sight for its terrifying capabilities in war. He grit his teeth and readied himself for whatever conflict was ahead of them, preparing to fight both this elf and the beast that was hunting him. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's your problem, elf. Not my fault you decided to play with fire and got burned. Now stay back or you might tear your fancy knickers there." He sneered at this stuck-up prig of an elf, masking his disgust for him with hardened scrutiny. But it was then that the werewolf made its appearance in the entrance of the alleyway, snarling rabidly and gazing at them with feral intentions. Bart actually smiled for once, and his disposition gave way to the battle-ready determination that had become his every moment during the war. Equipping it from the deep pockets of his trechcoat, he armed himself with the enchanted wand he had used earlier, the crystal orb embedded in its end filling with a slight shimmering light as he pulled on its magical reserves. His cane still at the ready in his other hand, Bart jabbed the point of it downward to embed it in between the bricks, and giving the skull-shaped embossment on the top a slight twist, drew out a slender blade from inside of the hidden sheath. He looked back over his shoulder at Hope, wanting to give her something to defend herself with, but not entirely sure she would know what to do with a weapon even if he gave her one. He settled for quickly throwing off his coat and tossing it to her, shouting "Hope, put this on, it'll help." The warding spell he put on it before should last a few minutes longer, and he had other items in there that if she found them she might use, including his revolver, a few knives, and a few other enchanted artifacts he had collected for occasions like this. "Just stay behind me and be ready for anything, kid." Now they were as ready as they would ever be for this fight.(edited)


shablagoo04/02/2019


A cigarette lighter, a flask, another flask, lint, a wad of string, a pocket knife! Hope gaped at Bart "That's not enough!" And thrn she found the revolver in the interior pocket. Triumphant, Hope held aloft "AH-HA!" She had no trigger discipline, and promptly jumped when the gun went off. Marcel patted himself down, checking for injury, Clovis glared at her over his shoulder, and Frank the Werewolf charged! Snarling and foaming at the mouth he sprang forward on all fours with his mangey hackles raised and his scrawny tail wagging. Hope fumbled with the gun, screaming as bricks flew from the walls, bashing the werewolf as Clovis smirked. He didnt have to move, he simply thought it and the bricks flew according to his will. His smile grew when he saw Xiu skid around the corner. Now it was a real fight.


ScungyWumbus04/02/2019


Upon hearing the ricochet of a missed bullet zinging through the alleyway, Xiuying ducked and swore under her breath. She vaulted over a dumpster that was blocking her way while maintaining her hold on her firearm. She'd briefly run on the walls whenever an overturned trash can and it spilt contents blocked her way, and she was nimble enough on her feet to not be slowed down by scattered chunks of concrete and discarded lumber. Once she had finished dashing through the alleyway, she took a moment to catch her breath, gun drawn and aimed at the werewolf with both hands. As things slowed down a bit, she took a moment to examine the other people in the nearby area. She recognized Clovis from earlier and could assume that Marcel was an employee or good friend of his judging from their proximity. Her sense of ease immediately left her body and a scowl came upon her face as she saw Bart and Hope, namely the badge on the woman's chest. "Great... A werewolf and two fucking cops..." She said with an exasperated sigh, her focus presently on the more immediate, furry threat.


shablagoo04/02/2019


"You need silver!" Marcel shouted at Hope "Regular bullets arent going to work!" He held the gun in one hand, loaded with silver bullets, and the silver dagger in the other. "I dont have silver!" Hope squawked. Frank scrambled out from under the catwalk. He spotted Xiu and looked back and forth between her and the odd collection of people behind him. The odds were against him, and he was not stupid. Frank barreled toward Bart and Clovis, leapt onto a dumpster, jumped over the two men and landed right in front of Hope. She shot wildly, emptying the remaining shots into his chest point blank! But the common bullets did nothing to his cursed form. "Oh gods!" She fumbled for the pocket knife as he reached for her.(edited)


Stickdom04/02/2019


It all happened so quickly, Bart had hardly a moment to react before bullets and bricks went flying. though the werewolf shook all of these off seemingly without a scratch. He was readying to launch a spell at this creature, but it took the first advantage and raced towards them down the alley, practically pouncing over their heads and landing behind them. Whirling around, Bart glared in shock as it grabbed her from right next to him. He took the blade in his hand and stabbed it down into the creature's leg, but the blade slid off the skin, leaving only a long flesh wound where it would have skewered any normal person to the ground. Hope had already unloaded the ammunition from his pistol into his chest, but the bullets simply crumpled on contact and fell useless onto the street. Something else would have to be done. With only a moment's hesitation, Bart leaped onto the beast's back, wrapping his burly arms around the werewolf's shoulders, trying to pin its arms back and release Hope from its grip. He heard Marcel shouting about silver and remembered the purchases the tiefling had made earlier. So they had been expecting this all along, they knew they were being pursued and had planned for it. Bart had to give the elf credit, he may act as a prick, but he was an intelligent one. He wrestled with the brute strength of the werewolf for a moment, trying to spread out his limbs to give Marcel a larger target, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep hold of the monster. "Take the shot! Now, dammyou, shoot him!" He wasn't sure if taking a hit from this close range would end up going through him and into Bart himself, but he simply held on and prayed the tielfing was a better shot than he was a negotiator. Or maybe this would give the newcomer a chance to get involved, he had seen another tiefling enter the alley, and she looked more than capable of handling herself.(edited)


shablagoo04/02/2019


Marcel hesitated. He stared up at Frank with wide eyes, tail and ears erect and bristling with a new kind of fear. Hope screamed at someone---anyone "Do something!Bart! Help! Marcel, shoot it you dumb cat!" She saw Bart jump on the werewolf and try to wrestle the bastard to the ground! If Marcel shot the beast, there was a chance the bullet would go right through it and into Bart! Hope screamed, thrashing wildly. Frank held on to her arm with an iron grip! Escape was out of the question! Water hit her in the face. For a moment she thought it was drool shaken from the werewolf's jowls! Then she saw the glass of a broken bottle floating around Clovis like a jagged halo. He grinned, producing another bottle from his jacket "Nice of you to join us Xiu!" "The hell is this!" Frank bellowed. He clawed at Bart, spinning in in wild circles. His face began to steam. Everywhere the colloidal silver touched, the werewolf burned as though acid had been thrown on him. He howled in agony, clawed at his face, rubbed his snout in the dirt and crashed into trashcans. Clovis uncorked the second bottle with his teeth, took a swig, and grinned at Xiu "You bring any?"(edited)

April 5, 2019

ScungyWumbus04/05/2019


Xiuying grinned and charged at the werewolf, making certain to overexaggerate her initial attack in order to feint Frank instead. When she felt the time was right and that the werewolf had been successfully baited by her gambit, she quickly changed directions. She pulled a bottle of colloidal silver from her back pocket and kicked off a nearby wall in order to smash the bottle directly on Frank's head. The glass shattered on impact, but she knew Matt would be able to heal her up post-fight no matter how fucked up her hand was. She figured that if the damage caused by the silver wasn't enough to stun him, the impact of the bottle crashing into his cranium would. "Think I got him!" She shouted as she kicked Frank's knee in an attempt to make his leg buckle and collapse.


shablagoo04/05/2019


Frank threw back his head and howled. He clawed at his head as his skin sizzled and bubbled from the silver infusion leaching into his pores. He staggered against the walls of the alley, knocking into Marcel and Hope. Clovis grinned at Xiu "See, you're going to have a lot of fun." Frank fled toward the end of the alley, limping with Bart still on his back. Even with a gimp leg he was as fast as a horse, galloping at an awkward gait. Hope scrambled off Marcel, yanking the gun from his hands "He's runnin' off with my boss!" Marcel sat up, stunned "H-hey! Wait give that back!"

 

[smallnscrappy]

ScungyWumbus04/06/2019


"Fuck! Watch where you're pointing that!" Xiuying shouted and swiftly got out of Hope's way as to not get shot by the rookie cop. Though she certainly was no werewolf, a silver bullet was still a bullet, and she didn't want to create more work for Matteo when she got home. Also she kinda didn't want to die in some musty alleyway. For now, she was busying herself with nursing her sliced up hand. The blades of glass from the bottle had drawn a decent amount of blood, and some of them were still stuck in her hand. She winced a bit, gritted her teeth, and pulled out each piece of glass one by one by biting down, yanking, and spitting the piece onto the alley floor. Once all the glass was gone from her hand, she wrapped it up with a bandage her husband gave her, and she was more or less back in fighting condition.

April 11, 2019

Stickdom04/11/2019


The sound of the gunshot going off nearly made him lose his grip on the flailing beast he was trying to pin, and the crash of glass on his head actually did loosen his hold. The liquid silver didn’t burn into his flesh the way it did for the werewolf, but it still stung in his eyes and nose. As Frank loped unsteadily out of the alley, Bart released him and pushed off with a solid kick to Frank’s ribs, hopefully causing some damage to the bones under his seemingly impenetrable hide. Bart pushed away, but the silver in his eyes made him misjudge the distance to the ground, which he hit with a solid thud, wiping his face with the back of one sleeve while maintaining his grip on his sword with the other. He rolled away from the werewolf’s feet to avoid being trampled and clawed, vaulting backwards into a kneeling position to steady himself and get his bearings again. He knew any weapons he had on him couldn’t kill the beast, but he could at least be a nuisance and cripple it so the others could finish it off. He knew Marcel had the silver knife he had purchased earlier, so even if they ran out of silver bullets, there was at least one sure way to completely kill the creature. As Frank tried to leave the alley, Bart looked back at the others in the alley, shouting back “We can’t let him leave. If he changes back, we’ll lose him!” With these words, Bart lunged forward, aiming his blade towards a spot where the silver had burned away some of the skin on the werewolf’s calf. If it hit, it should be sharp enough to go through the weakened spot, and Frank wouldn’t be able to escape on one leg. Werewolf or not, no one could run very far with a sword through their leg.


shablagoo04/11/2019


"What do we do?!" Marcel scrambled upright, bewildered after Hope stole his gun and climbed over him like a persian carpet. His hair stuck out at odd angles. "Kill or be killed!" Clovis snapped "He's after us remember? Give me the knife." He took the blade from Marcel as he spoke, yanking it from his belt and its sheath in the back of the tieflings pants. They needed an opening. One good shot or decent stab would put the beast down! "And you!" Clovis pointed at Hope with his Bayonet "Give me the gun." "What!" Hope squawked "Im defenseless!" "Fine!" Clovis grabbed the gun with his mind "One less dangerous pig to worry about." Hope held onto the gun and dug her heels into the ground as Clovis tugged her toward him. Her feet skidded on the bricks as she slid right up to the elf, drawn forward by his mind "We gotta save Bart!" While they bickered at the end of the street, Frank howled in pain. The werewolf fell onto his back, much like an injured dog, and tugged at the sword handle. He whimpered, snapping at Bart threateningly "You bastard!" The gun went off. White as a sheet, Clovis released Hope from his mental hold and took a measured step backward. He wiped a hand over his ear. It stung from where the bullet had grazed him, but there was no blood. She stared at him like an owl "Sorry!" Then turned an ran after Bart, gun in hand.

April 15, 2019

Stickdom04/15/2019


He had lost his sword in the werewolf’s leg, but Bart was far from defenseless. Though his sword was still embedded in Frank’s leg and he had given Hope his gun, he knew they wouldn’t be much use even if he had them both. But one weakness that Frank did have which Bart could exploit was his mind. Stepping back out of the range of immediate physical danger, Bart closed his eyes and focused on Frank’s being, which at this point was a writhing aura of animal-instinct and man-thoughts merged together into a terrible chimera of mental conflict. Bart grabbed onto this aura, physically grappling with Frank’s essence. To the ones outside of his head, it would look like Bart had lost his mind and was fighting with the thin air between him and the werewolf, but any who submerged themselves in the world under reality would have seen him reaching out his own will and trying to snare Frank’s own. Chains of astral energy flowed from Bart, wrapping around the werewolf and metaphysically attempting to restrain him. Locked in both a physical and spiritual battle at once, Frank would lose one of them for certain. If he broke his concentration on Bart to attack the others in reality, Bart could tear him apart inside, and if he stopped thrashing to fend off Bart’s attack, the others should be able to finish off his body. Whichever he chose, Frank would lose, as long as Bart could hold him.(edited)


shablagoo04/15/2019


"Xiu! Your hand!" Marcel stood as Clovis strode past. She was one tough woman. He knew better than to question her ability to fight. Xiu would punch a man senseless even if she was full of bullets! Still...he was concerned for the other Tiefling "How the hell did you get tied up in this mess?" Frank was not used to a spiritual assault! He snarled angrily, focusing on pulling the sword from his leg. "You damned spook!" he hurled the blade down the alley, but found that he was strangely unable to advance on Bart! It was as though something were holding him back. He did not want to move...or at least the man inside him did not. The wolf was fading--as though it were caged!



"Bart! Bart I got the gun!" Hope ran toward him, grinning wide with triumph. She skidded to a stop beside him. She was confused by what she saw, without a doubt. Bart was indeed locked in a battle, but a strange invisible one. She only caught glimpses of the spiritual fight between her boss and the werewolf. Flashes of energy and clashing auras flickered in and out of her vision, then filled it completely. The world was washed in a nauseating kaleidoscope of translucent threads, webs, and auras in a spectrum of vibrant color reflecting the nature of souls, intention, and consequence. Hope stepped backward. Her heart flew up into her chest, racing against her throat and thundering in her ears. She saw....other things....strange beings or creatures of every shape and size lurked in shadows, scuttled up walls, haunted doorways, perched atop buildings, and glared from windows. They were distorted ghostly figures, some no more than vapors, others indistinct and shrouded in shadow or translucent fabric. Others looked like bugs, mangey dogs, starved cats, or evil.... Frank the werewolf was a tormented man inside the giant, hulking form of an elongated wolf with shackles and chains hanging from its body. She looked back down the alleyway. The halo of shimmering eyes had returned around Clovis' head. He was striding toward her with the force of his mind stretching toward the werewolf---like a giant hammer about to come down on an anvil---or a shoe about to crush a bug! "B---Bart---Bart?" Hope stammered. She was overwhelmed with fear. A crippling wave of anxiety washed over her and she began to shake. Some of the creatures lurking nearby looked up, as though they had smelled a delicious meal.


ScungyWumbus04/15/2019


Xiuying's gaze turned to Marcel, and she clenched her bloodied fist firmly, glass shards and all. "Frank broke into our house and almost killed Matt. I just came so I could beat his ass." She spoke with a devilish grin on her face, though her expression was quickly replaced by one of confusion. She knew that people with telekinetic knacks existed and not uncommonly, but watching Frank and Bart fight was still a bizarre sight. Because of that inability to see the spiritual unlike Hope, Xiuying wasn't stunned or startled by the residual specters around them. Her knack allowed her to shrug off the pain of her injured hand by sheer willpower, and she quickly ran at Frank with half a bottle of colloidal silver covering her already wounded hand. She knew she couldn't punch Frank to death, but an uppercut to the jaw would no doubt shatter his concentration and give Clovis and Bart the upper hand.

April 17, 2019

shablagoo04/17/2019


"Gods!" Marcel exclaimed. The ghastly canine had gone after Matteo! He did not know the doctor that well, but he knew Matteo was not keen on unwelcome guests. Xiu rushed past him and Marcel half heartedly followed. He preferred to leave the heavy lifting and fighting to Clovis. Marcel's skill sets were focused on discretion and...well burglary if he was being completely honest. He did not have a Knack. Like the majority of people he came by his magic honestly through hard work and family tradition. He still had a book of his mother and grandmother's spells, and a few surviving oral incantations from his father. Everything else...all the knowledge and wisdom of his people had been lost in the war. He kept his distance from Xiu and the others, not wanting to get drawn into the fight any more than he had already. That Hope girl was a piece of work. She was making a real mess of everything!

May 23, 2019

Stickdom05/23/2019


The strain of mentally holding the werewolf at bay made Bart wince and a determined grunt escaped between his gritted teeth. He had fought with lots of humans before, but this beastie was different. The dual nature of both man and beast in him required doubled efforts to restrain. But if he could manage to separate the two in this creature’s own mind, the beast would have to retreat and the man could emerge once more, and he would be a much more manageable threat to deal with... and interrogate. It was then he heard Hope shouting about a gun and he broke eye contact with Frank for just a moment to see Hope come barreling down the alley towards him, waving his revolver over her head with no regard. All things considered, he would have to instruct her in some trigger discipline after this if they were going to get into tussles like this in the future. But then she froze, and he saw her Inner Eye open as she took in the horrors that crept around the dark corners of the alley, the ones he dealt with on a daily basis. She had a Knack, his Knack, he realized, and she was leaving it wide open for anything that was creeping through the mental airwaves to just get in. Her mind would be eaten alive if she just stood there and took it all in at once for the first time. Now he had a choice, let go of his spiritual hold on Frank to rescue Hope from her own power, or pray she could stay sane for a few more minutes until they could finish this werewolf off. Behind Hope, he saw Clovis making his way up the alley, wreathed in telepathic eyes again. Even though they had a mutual enemy they were fighting at the moment, Bart did not trust him to be around Hope when she was in this vulnerable state, whatever mind worm he could slip into her head while she was open like this would eat her from the inside.



Refocusing on Frank, then back to Hope, he made his choice. He gave one last ethereal yank, trying to wrench Frank’s human spirit outside of his beastly body, leaving his core essence open to whatever mental horror Clovis had in store for him. “Elf, whatever you’re doing to do, now’s your shot!” Then he dodged down the alleyway, reaching out for Hope’s open mind with his own and shielding it with his own energies, still letting her experience her power for herself, but putting a protective mental lens around it for her to view through. “Hang in there, kid, I gotcha.”


shablagoo05/23/2019


"Okay--" Hope had covered her ears. Her face had gone white. All around her, demons, ghosts, wayward spirits and spectres clawed at the Bart's shield. They were hungry, they were thirsty, they were tormented and lonely! She began trembling with fear. There was something else. A hand rested on her shoulder. There was something in the shield with her. Clovis' mind crashed down over Frank like a hammer. The man's mind broke. He crumpled to the ground, reverting from wolf to man.(edited)


ScungyWumbus05/23/2019


Needless to say, Xiuying was more perplexed than she'd ever been in her life. Having unfolded before her was a fight in which some people stared each other down, focused really hard, and then the werewolf collapsed to the ground all of a sudden. "What the fuck just happened?" She asked the others as she started walking over to the transformed-back Frank. After grabbing what little remained of his shirt collar, she lifted the man up onto his feet and firmly pinned him against the nearest wall. Her free hand remained clenched in a fist in case he wanted to try anything. "You guys wanna question him?"


shablagoo05/23/2019


"Yes." Clovis said flatly. He sidestepped around Bart and Hope, taking care to give them more distance than was needed. He knew a spiritual battle when he saw one. His knack had little to nothing to do with the soul and its struggles. Ghosts, demons, angels, gods, he wanted nothing to do with them and knew nothing about them. His concerns were with the mind, something that could easily be honed into a weapon....or broken. But why did the hairs on his neck rise when he passed Hope? Why did chills run down his spine? Though he could not see the spiritual....he did feel something. He smiled at Frank over Xiu's antlers "Of course we have questions for him." Germanian Telepaths were more than gifted in that matter. Their needling mind games had broken more than one spy "Let's make our way to the forge."


shablagoo05/23/2019


Marcel circled around Bart and Hope, eyeing the girl warily. Whatever she saw, the look of terror on her face was enough to make his hackles rise. His tail snapped back and forth anxiously "Bart, perhaps we should go?" he didn't know why but his eyes searched the alley walls for any signs of the other worldly. Some people could see them! Others lived half in their world, and half in the physical, the dangers of the spiritual realm or Behind the Veil were endless. Any Seer worth their salt would be well equipped against it, and blessed gods it seemed as though Bart was well versed . Marcel could not see the long shadowy arms embracing Hope. The gangly black arms had long sinewy hands that held on to the girl as though she were precious cargo and its life depended on her safety. No head or body had manifested yet, there were only limbs--many of them---clinging to her body. It both shielded and possessed her, guarded and imprisoned. Whatever it was...Bart could see it, and Hope could see it. She could feel it! It clung to her with the familiarity of a long lost friend----but she was terrified.

June 20, 2019

Stickdom06/20/2019


The specters that ran along the walls began to dissipate against the field that surrounded them, but when Bart turned from the spirits outside of the barrier to Hope, the writhing mass of shadowed hands that ensnared her were more terrifying than what lay outside. He feared that something from the outside had slipped through his defense, but it only took a moment to see that it was not coming for her, but issued from her. The shield around them dropped instantly as Bart redirected his energies to suppressing whatever dark power lay inside her. The words of Hope's father came back to when he said she would need someone to look after her, and it was in that moment that Bart realized Malcolm had not entrusted her to him for her protection alone, but also for the protection of those around her from whatever this thing was that indwelt her spirit. \



He helped her to stand and put his arm kindly and protectively around her shoulder, ushering her away from the scene a step or two. "The werewolf is your business, I don't know and I don't want to." This was not like him at all, normally he would jump at the chance to dig to the bottom of this issue, especially with a rampant monster like this who had just appeared on his normally-bustling city streets. He conjectured that it was shady business of some nature, the wolf-man was sent to dispatch Clovis, little more than a monstrous hitman, and that just reeked of mobsters and underworld deals and all kinds of trouble. "Whatever business you have with assassins and crooked deals, we want no part of it." He put his other arm gently around Hope's waist to support her, her being still shaken and weak from her terrifying ordeal. Bart really just wanted to get her somewhere safe, somewhere he could investigate her spectral parasite in relative safety. His tone of voice switched to a lucid cheerful tone, trying to drum up some confidence in her, and partly himself. "C'mon, kid, let's get you out of this place. We can even go look into that factory murder like you wanted, okay? Should be a piece of cake after this, what'dya say?"

July 3, 2019

shablagoo07/03/2019


"Bart-" Hope twisted in his arms, looking back at the werewolf and their strange comrades. Clovis wore a triumphant sneer, barely covered by the worn collar of his leather jacket. Only one of his eyes was turned toward them. Eyes in the back of his head...and everywhere else. Thousands of threads connected to him, Xiu, Marcel, and Frank, but the most obvious was a jarring, violent red thread that tangled each of them in a web. "Bart we can't just-" she struggled to think straight "We can't just let them torture him! We can't let them torture that---man---wolf! Thing!" seeing Frank pinned to the wall, bleeding and miserable, she could only feel pity for him. He was sick. He was sick in the head and the spirit and someone had taken advantage of his condition. "Are we law enforcement or not?" she squirmed free of Bart's supportive embrace and gestured back down the debris scattered alley "I've got a feeling about this! I've got a feeling about whatever the hell just happened---and I'm not talkin' about the---" Hope gestured vaguely, indicating whatever the hell had just reached from the ether and hugged her like a giant evil spider "Innocent unless proven guilty right? All we got right now is some thugs throwing maybe a turf war, or maybe all that crazy happened for a reason!"



She had followed Marcel into Madam Blacks, he and Clovis had prepared to fight a werewolf. The Germanian elf had literally just uttered the word 'forge'. Hope's skin crawled with anticipation, she looked between Bart and the retreating gang mismatched gang. Clovis left the manhandling of Frank to Xiu and instead lit a cigarette while he lead the way toward the black smoke stacks of the forge a few streets over. "Seems like you got more than you bargained for, Frank." He let his mind hold the silver dagger over Frank like a guillotine. One wrong move from the werewolf and the telepath would stab him through the neck with a mere thought. The wolfman was silent, trudging ahead of Xiu. He had been beat, he wasn't about to make a run for it, not until he saw the right opening. His eyes flickered to the silver knife every so often, wary of the anointed blade.

July 4, 2019

ScungyWumbus07/04/2019


Xiuying held firm in order to keep the werewolf immobilized, the muscles of her arms inhumanly tensed and seemingly pulsing with energy. Hope's words did resonate with her a bit, albeit only slightly. She wasn't nearly as soft as Matteo was when it came to forgiving evil actions, and this werewolf guy had done more than his fair share of that. "Even if he might be innocent, I don't wanna take any chances with this guy. He's reckless, and he kills people." She cautioned as she shifted her attention between the others in the alley with her, though her focus soon turned towards the approaching sound of another. Matteo was about as athletically gifted as a sedentary person would be expected to be. When he finally arrived with the rest of them, he slumped over with his hands on his knees, and his chest was heaving considerably from exertion. After he'd caught his breath a bit, he looked up at the scene before him, a little stunned by how quickly they'd subdued Frank. "Oh, it seems you all have the werewolf situation more than managed, huh...?" He asked as he made his way closer, one hand holding a medical briefcase as the other adjusted his spectacles on his nose. While he wasn't the most inclined to combat situations or endangering himself, he couldn't help but feel he'd missed out a bit.

July 11, 2019

shablagoo07/11/2019


"Who are you?" Hope edged closer to Bart, though the bespectacled elf didnt seem to be much of a threat. He seemed bookish, not exactly the sort of man built for combat. "Hello Matteo!" Marcel greeted, pleased to see the doctor. Somehow he seemed to add an element of sanity to the trashed alley. "He ate Vito's corpse?" Clovis skimmed Matteo's thoughts, those that were readily available in the confusing ether. He had an absolutely splitting headache after all that fighting and the tobacco wasnt helping. He needed a stiff drink.


ScungyWumbus07/11/2019


Matteo was a bit startled by Clovis's ability to ascertain that information, but at the same time he didn't feel he was in a place to question or combat the elf's magical nonsense. "Yeah... It was pretty gruesome, but I suppose I've seen worse..." He said as he ran a hand through his curls, his neutral, unfazed expression turning to an angry scowl. "Why the hell did you destroy your hand, Xiu?" He asked with a sharp tone as he started striding over to his beloved, visibly pissed off by her recklessness. He didn't really care about the danger she'd gotten herself into, that was basically unavoidable, but he certainly wasn't a fan of her getting all chopped up as a result. Xiu rolled her eyes as her husband examined her wounded hand, the other continuing to hold the werewolf up. "Didn't want to miss and waste silver by throwing it, so I cracked him with the bottle." She explained, though Matteo was having none of it. "Unsurprising, but still stupid. Anyway, who are these cops? And who is this werewolf?" He asked Clovis as he pulled the remaining shards of glass from Xiuying's hand and wrapped it up with a bandage before she could even wince in pain.(edited)


shablagoo07/11/2019


"No idea." Clovis gestured to Hope and Bart "And we were planning to find out." In the same motion he pointed at Frank. Blood had begun dripping from his nose. He was at the end of his telepathic rope, too much strain, too much interference, too much exertion, it had been a long time since he had fought that hard. In the morning he would pay for it with a nauseating migrane. "Wait they're cops?" Marcel gaped at Hope and Bart, tail and hackles standing on end. Hope stared at him, brows rising. How had the Tiefling missed that? "Well we arent Southern gentry..." She drawled. Clovis exhaled long sufferingly "Lets take this off the street. Better to ask the hard questions behind closed doors." He continued down the alley, determined to get to the forge.

August 1, 2019

Stickdom08/01/2019


“No, we’re not gentry, and we’re not involved, and we don’t want to be. Excuse us.” He took a few steps back toward the opposite end of the alley, he was not about to let Hope try to drag them back into this mess they had barely escaped from, something that was none of their business in the first place and had nearly gotten both of them killed. First of all, a were-wolf, or were-anything for that matter, was a bad omen, they weren’t natural, something deeper and darker had to be at play here and it was not anything Bart wanted to go diving into blindly. This was not even counting the next thing that worried him, the sinister presence that wrapped itself around Hope like an unseen noose, they had just been attacked by forces like he had only seen in the terrors of war, here in some do-nothing back alley in Brooklyn for gods’ sakes. Her total lack of concern for the danger she was really in told him she was not entirely aware that it was there at all, which is part of what unnerved him the most.



“No, Hope,” he took her wrist firmly in his hand, but not unkindly. He wanted to keep her from running back into the fray again, so he held fast despite however much she may pull against his grip. “No, we’re not law enforcement. That’s your father. That’s young, stupid, enthusiastic Bart.” His voice raised a notch with each description of himself, anger at his own youthful foolishness pouring out of the seams he though he had buried long ago. “Yes, there’s a reason for all of this, I’m sure. Innocent people will get hurt, they always do. But you can’t stick your nose into everyone’s dangerous business and expect it to still be there at the end of the day.” He pointed at Clovis, Xiu, Marcel, and the newly arrived Matteo who had gathered around the unconscious werewolf at the other end of the alley. “We have two of us, and twice as many of them, and you saw how this whole little fiasco played out. What would happen if they turned on me and left you to fend for yourself? Have you even thought about what you would do on your own?” His voice choked a moment, and he could feel his eyes starting to water against his will. He was trying to keep his promise to protect her, and now that he understood that it was also from herself, he couldn’t let her throw herself into the wolf’s mouth again.



But then he looked at her, he saw the disappointment on her face, the trust draining from her eyes, and he knew if anything serious or terrible happened because of this, she would never forgive him. He didn’t know what it was, but she looked like... well, she looked like she knew he meant better than this, and deep down, he caved just a little. He put his hands on her shoulders, looking her directly into her eyes, staring her down. “Listen. I know you’re all into this cop thing, you wanna be a hero, you wanna take down all the bad guys, you wanna save the day. I know because I see a little bit of young, stupid, enthusiastic Bart right in front of me.” He relaxed his grip on her and his voice mellowed as he let out a deep, dejected sigh. “But I also see you’ve got the stubbornness to match mine and I’ll never hear the end of this. So I’ll tell you what, we’ll do it this once, for you, kid. But you gotta promise me two things. One, you do exactly as I say, when I say it, no questions. And two, if this gets out of hand, we leave, we go home, we forget about the whole thing.” He held his hand out to her for a handshake to seal the deal, and gave her a wink just to make it official. “Got it?”


shablagoo08/01/2019


"Got it." Hope clasped Bart's hand firmly. She studied his face, searching for the deceit in his sudden agreement. There was nothing, just the tired strain of regret and fear of the past. She felt sorry for him. What had made him lose the spark? If he saw himself in her, maybe she could revive him, maybe she could light a fire under his ass and drag him back from the edge, out of regret and whatever was tormenting him in the past. When the thing had its arms around her, she could see everything. The world that Bart saw had been revealed to her---and much more. She had seen things. Signs and talismans that could only be old magic.... "I gotta feelin' about this, Bart." Hope said "I know I'll do right by you. You just...you just gotta keep me on track." she smiled "I'll be the gas and you be the brakes. We each can have a hand on the wheel." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the last of Marcel's tail whip out of view. "Shit!" This gang didn't waste time!



They really were a gang. Or at least so it seemed to Marcel. Carrying a half conscious werewolf between them, all of them sporting scrapes and bruises, winded and sweaty, armed to the teeth and having no idea what they were doing. The group lumbered up the back flight of steps into Clovis' office overseeing the steelworks floor. Furnaces and bellows roared, blanketing the room in a convenient white noise that extended even to the surrounding buildings. Working at a forge had its advantages, but after such intense combat the noise was just about killing Clovis. Marcel could see the tension in his shoulders and the angry veins in his temple, one of them pulsing violently as he clenched his jaw. The elf grabbed a chair, kicked Frank's legs out from under him and planted him firmly in the seat before skulking over to his desk and pulling a dark bottle from a drawer. "Xiu, Matteo...." it wasn't a question of whether or not they wanted any of the whiskey. Clovis filled two glasses regardless, took a swig from the bottle, and thrust it at Marcel.



Marcel took it with his tail and took a cautious sip. How the hell were they going to interrogate a were-wolf if Clovis could barely stand? He looked at Xiu curiously "I don't suppose any of your medical expertise could scalp information?" Clovis smiled pointedly at Matteo then glared at the backdoor with bloodshot eyes "Oh for fuck'sake." "LET US IN!" Hope smacked her hands on the shaded glass "Hey! HEY! Marcel! Let us IN!"

August 14, 2019

shablagooYesterday at 9:08 AM


"Should...should I let them in?" Marcel's eyes darted from Clovis to Matteo and Xiu. He stood with a hand on the doorknob. His tail whipped anxiously from side to side. Frank shifted on his chair, head lolling backward aw he struggled to lift his gaze. He chuckled at the ceiling "I can't believe they believe your lot is a problem. You've got no fucken leadership." his sickly yellow eyes snapped to Clovis "S'really just you isn't it....floundering on your own...."

 

[smallnscrappy]

Scungy****
Though he was a man who existed in a near-perpetual bewildered state, the doctor looked even more daunted and jumpy than he normally did. The surrounding noise, the chaotic energy around him, the aura of menace coming from the understandably-upset Frank, it all felt incredibly upsetting to Matteo. "I... Don't know. If they're to be trusted, I don't see why not." He responded to Marcel, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. He flinched a bit every time Hope's hands collided with the door to Clovis's office. "But I don't know if they're to be trusted."

"We can worry about them later. This werewolf guy's more important." Xiuying said through gritted teeth, her recently patched-up hand sending waves of pain through her arm in spite of the influx of dopamine produced by her knack. "But is this guy even worth torturing for info? Seems just like some low level goon to me." She said as she pulled over a metal folding chair and sat down on it backwards. Her eyes studied the werewolf's body language intensively, looking for any tells of fear or aggression she could pick up on.


Stick***
Bart shook his head as Hope was already running face first into danger after he had just tried to pull her out of it. He reached into the inner lining of his jacket, pulled out his dented metal flask and took a deep swig of the spicy liquor to steel his nerve and knock the mental cobwebs from his thoughts. There was something about Hope, something unnerving that made him feel simultaneously ill and intrigued.

He caught up with her and found her furiously knocking against the door to where he presumed the fugitives had gone. He took her by the wrist and pulled her back from the door a few steps, and in a low voice told her “Remember what you promised? Exactly. As. I. Say.” He let go of her arm, gave her a wry smile, then turned to the door and gave it a swift kick near the handle that burst the door in and nearly knocked it off its hinges, shattering several panes of its glass as it flung open . He reached into his pockets and put one hand on his revolver and the other holding his cane back defensively behind him to shield Hope. He knew that whoever was in there, they probably weren’t expecting their company in this way, even if Hope had ruined the element of total surprise. So he stayed back and waited for bullets or spells or whatever else may come through the doorway in the next few seconds, then when it seemed to be clear, he marched into the room with his gun ready at his side. “POLICE! Just keep it nice and easy, we’re only here for the werewolf.”


Scrappy***
Clovis laughed.
Marcel hesitated but raised his hands in a confused way, tail twitching as he looked between Bart and Clovis in search of some sense in this whole backwards scenario.
"I'm confused." He said at a whisper.

Hope stomped in behind Bart, cheeks red and puffed as he had just done the exact opposite of his own advice. She planted her hands firmly on her hips "Yeah! Police in training! I'm with him."

Clovis spread his hands, leaning back in his chair "We know. Why the hell did you break down my door?"

"You werent answering!" She kicked a pane of glass aside for emphasis, then planted her feet wide "So we had ta break yer door in mister! Mister man. Mister elf!"

Clovis stood "You made it pretty clear you want no part of this."

"Well we do! So---who do you work for!!!" She brandished her index finger at Frank the werewolf like a badge "Tell us or we will kick your teeth in!"

Marcel still had his hands raised.

Scungy****

Matteo was currently leaning back against a bookshelf within Clovis's office, one hand holding his medical bag as the other rifled through its contents.
"Can we please be civil, everyone? Why don't we calmly talk for a few minutes?" He asked, now holding a roll of bandages in his hand.

With the quick fidgeting of his fingers followed up by his gesture of rapidly moving his hands apart from one another, the bandages disappeared.

"Just in case?" Xiuying asked, seemingly privy to knowledge that the rest of the group lacked. Matteo simply nodded and adjusted his glasses
"We might as well make the risk factor as close to zero as we can manage, no? I would advise that neither party step closer to the other for the next few minutes."

To an extremely perceptive eye, one could see what Matteo had prepared by means of his Medikinesis knack. Between the cops and Clovis's crew was a wall of near-invisible threads, razor sharp to the touch if not careful.

Scrappy**

Marcel eyes the thread closest to him. Spotting trip wires was a second nature to him! He had evaded and placed enough snares to see the web of threads now cast between the two groups.
He eyed Matteo warily. The medical's Knack would come in handy.

"Hey now!" Hope growled "That's pretty close to uh-uh-" she softened, glancing at Bart while she grasped at straws "Resisting arrest!"

"Show me a badge." Clovis studied Bart through the threads with dangerous, bloodshot eyes. His hand hovered over the wand. A hint of a crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, however the pressure of his mind was strangely absent.

Stick***
The situation was quickly spiraling out of his control, between these unknowns they had been trailing all day but knew almost nothing about and Hope throwing around her words as if they had weight and just getting them deeper into the mire. Bart felt a surge of magic come from the hands of the newer elf and then grow still again, with no visible consequences, which was worse; unseen threats hit harder. He lowered his hands and put an arm in front of Hope, lowering her pointing fingers as well. “Before anyone does anything they regret, let’s clear this mess up.” He opened his jacket wide with one hand to make it clear he wasn’t reaching for a weapon, pulled out a battered leather wallet, and flipped it open to show an tarnished metal badge that still clung to it. “I’m with Special Investigations.” He flipped his wallet closed and tucked it back into his inside pocket before any of them could examine it more closely, revealing the badge was more of a memento given when he was forcibly retired from service, not an actual badge of office. “You don’t need my name, though I’m sure if you’re who I think you are, you’ve already gotten it.” He took in the room, analyzing the faces and stances of all present to gauge who might be the most threat in the event this turned into a brawl. “I’m actually here because I’m fairly certain you” he pointed a finger at Clovis, “hired me. I’m investigating the murder of your employee here in this foundry.” He gave the elf a little smirk, “Clovis... Haas, I presume?”

 

[smallnscrappy]

Scrappy***
"Yes." Clovis frowned, tilting his head. Had he seriously hired this lunatic? He wanted to search Bart for deception but his mind was at the end of its rope. Any more and he would vomit from a migraine and spend the next few days with the blinds closed!

"What a strange spiral..." Marcel mused, glancing around the room "Perhaps lowering our weapons would be wise..." he gave Matteo a significant look "At least until we get to the bottom of this." He was pretty sure a wire had shaved a chunk out of his tail hair.

"Odd." Clovis agreed. He nodded to Frank "This thing ate what was left of Vito."

Frank smirked widely, flashing canine teeth that simply did not belong in a human skull.

Scungy***
Upon sensing malicious intent from the werewolf, Xiuying firmly clenched her intact fist, transferred her magical energy to that arm, and quickly popped Frank in the jaw. She figured a few busted and missing teeth would suppress the werewolf's unpleasant aura for at least a little while. "Sorry about that, guys. I was getting some really bad vibes from him." She said with a soft, slightly nervous grin as she surveyed the room.

"Marcel's right. Now that we've all calmed down considerably, I think it would be best if we decided on how we're going to handle our immortal friend over there." He gestured at Frank with his head, though notably not pointing with his finger instead.

Stick***
’What a ragtag bunch of miscreants’ Bart thought to himself. The group in front of him were obviously not organized, the most he could figure out was that they were paired off, an elf and a tiefling in each group, with the werewolf unaffiliated with either, it seemed. One group appeared to be the muscle and a physician, the other a psychocant and a kleptomaniac.

He noticed the one elf who had cast the hidden spell nod towards the werewolf, not moving his hands. So, his instinct told him that whatever he had cast was still there, held in place just out of his sight. He didn’t detect any kind of invisible energy present, whatever he had done was simply out of Bart’s perception, which worried him slightly more. Spirits and essences he could handle, but surprise knives to the back were a problem. “I agree with” he searched his memory for a name, found none, and just went with a safe response without missing a beat in his speech, “the doctor here. Let’s come to an understanding here. As far as I can see, we should all be on the same side. How that holds up, well, that’s up to you.”

Hoping that would suppress any violent intentions, Bart ran another mental scan of the room, trying to pick up any more traces that would clue him in on what the situation really was. Each of them had a distinct aura about them, their ethereal threads were linked and meshed together, they had some affiliation after all, but what exactly that connection was, he could not see. There was another connection that didn’t make any sense either, leading from the elf named Clovis across the room and attached to... something Bart couldn’t quite see. A photo frame? A lock-box? Whatever it was, it was possibly the strongest connection in the room, by far.

Scrappy***
"What the hell is going on." Hope planted her hands on her hips, glaring about the room with an authoritative scowl.
Clovis sighed "Well in Vito's case, he was one of my foremen. He was murdered here a few days ago, Marcel happened to be here that night. I was conducting my own investigation, when this thing turned up and gobbled up the corpse."

Frank chuckled around a mouthful of blood. Marcel kicked the left of his chair.
"Worse comin' for yah." Frank sneered "Far worse comin' you better watch your fuckin' backs. You got no idea the shit you're in."

Marcel glanced between Bart and Clovis "There was more than one that night...I mentioned it before..."

Clovis turned to Frank, eyes narrowing "Why dont you enlighten us. Who the hell sent you?"

Scungy***
Xiu sent Matteo a look of frustration and repulsion, and he could only chuckle and slightly shrug his shoulders as his hands were quite literally tied up in that moment. Xiu really wished her husband wasn't busy maintaining the invisible barricade he had set up so that he could keep the awful wolf-man from letting out another gurgling chuckle like that ever again. Then again, suturing the werewolf's mouth closed would prevent the group from receiving any information from him, so she resolved to just tolerate it.

Not without a little bit of retribution, of course. She adjusted her stance before delivering a firm kick to Frank's knee, definitely fracturing something of his on impact. "Say another word without us telling you to and I'll smash the other one." She said with an intense glare, the woman relishing in her enemy's immortality as it meant she could break him down as much as was needed without feeling any semblance of guilt for it. That and he swallowed an entire dead guy in front of her.

Scrappy***
Frank snapped at her, canine jaws emitting a savage, frustrated bark and snarl. His lips curled, baring sharp wolf teeth in the strange elongated human face.
"I'm sayin' nothin! Wont tell you nothin! Wont matter because you wont survive!" He bristled and squirmed, straining against the chair as his form shuddered and shook, rattling into a beast like monstrosity that was too little wolf and at the same time too little human.
"You wont survive the pack!" He let out a throaty, barking laugh, dribbling spit and blood from his gaping maw.

Clovis' face fell "The pack..." his eyes darted to Marcel.
The tiefling nodded slowly, tail lashing back and forth "That makes sense..." he glanced at Hope and Bart "Maybe an alliance is in order? I realize its broad daylight but if Frank can do that-" he gestured to the half transformed werewolf "And we had such a difficult time fighting him what the hell is three or four of them going to be like?!"

"Why didn't you eat Vito's corpse that night?" Clovis demanded

Frank sneered "Better prey. Got sloppy."