Who you gonna call?

Started by W0NWILL, March 20, 2016, 10:24:23 PM

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W0NWILL

In my old age as I look back on my life, I am bewildered at how it has unfolded. And even how I have survived for so long when the winds of fate have so constantly sought to tear me from this Earth. Others from my youth have not been so lucky. I cannot count on both paws how many have departed from my life.

I am old and weary now, and those days of eldritch beings are long behind me. But now I pick up my pen and set it to parchment in the hopes of honoring those dear friends who left me far too soon. This account is for the ones who fought tooth and nail to keep us safe from the abominations that sought to wreck havoc upon our little town.


-

Fletcher rested a paw on the windowsill and stared out into the night, his tail twitching anxiously. It was a forlorn night, light snow dusting the cobblestone road outside his home. He couldn't shake the feeling that something important was going to happen tonight.

Paranine clutched her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she made her way through the winding streets of Dunwich towards Redwall. The evening was cold, but nice, and she wasn't too worried at the moment(though on guard, as a lone shrewmaid should be late at night). Heading off to meet a fellow named Coaltop at the Abbey about work.

Groddil

#1
Emerging from a sidestreet, a tall mouse nearly ran straight into Paranine. Startled, the pocket watch he had been staring at fell from his paw. Thankfully, the mouse managed to catch it before it fell to the ground. Straightening up, he offered a paw to the shrewmaid.
"Sorry 'bout that, marm. Francis Alhazred, at your service. Headin' up t'the Abbey as well?"

LT Sandpaw


"Oh yes, I'm here to meet a potential employer. I'm not sure what exactly they need me for, but work it work ya know. Times are tough and all that blab."

"Got any identification?" A mouse guard grunted shortly as he shuffled around Coaltop patting the weasel down. Coaltop held his paws higher as the mouse searched every inch of him. Should Coaltop been a modest creature he might have found the search embarrassing. Yet for once somebeast was literally forced listen to him, and Coaltop was not easily embarrassed.

"Naw, should I have brought some? I didn't really think it was all that important. Oh be carful with that. It's my latest study, I'm researching how certain fluids react to each other. Gonbie's theory on chemical reaction equations might be incorrect, I believe there might be a chance at leftover reactants available for cont-"

"Right." The mouse interrupted, he had left off searching the weasel switching to the satchel that Coaltop had brought with him. Placing the two vials of chemicals on his desk the mouse also removed a well pen, several bottles of substances, and some swabs. "So just scrawl a signature here and whenever you leave make sure to check out with me. Go on through ma'am." A female hedgehog nodded her thanks before entering the Abbey hefting a large sack on her back. This might have annoyed most creatures, but not Coaltop.

"Once your through with your business recollect your confiscated items here." The mouse drawled on holding out a pad of paper and a quill. Coaltop quickly scribbled down his name and nodded to the mouse.

"Thanks mate." Tipping his beret the weasel picked up his bag, now empty, and ambled into the Abbey looking around in interest.


"Sometimes its not about winning, but how you lose." - John Gwynne

"Facts don't care about your feelings." -Ben Shapiro

Hickory

"And you say that he just disappeared? Into the water?"

"Yes, officer."

"Inspector."

Nick Valentine observed the elderly lady otter in front of him. It was a simple case, her grandson was swimming close to shore in the Abbey pond when he ventured too far out and sunk into the depths. It wasn't strange for someone like her to panic and think it a murder, although Nick still thought that it wasn't natural. He waved for two police officers to take her out as he stood up. The chief of police waited by the door to Nick's office. "Nick, I really don't see how this is anything but an accident. The circumstances point it in that direction-"

Nick breathed a sigh of exasperation. "Look, baby otters don't just sink. I mean, they're otters. Otters swim."

He stopped walking alongside the chief, instead turning into a side room. This room was dim and filled with the faint whir of fans and the rustle of papers. The quiet atmosphere was broken by the mouse's voice. "Catherine?"

A young hare looked up from the desk she was sitting at. "Yes, Inspector?"

"I need a file on all the murders, missing persons cases, and any possibly criminal activities around the Abbey Pond. Hellgates, make it the whole Abbey area. I want it on my desk before the end of my shift at 9. Okay?"

She nodded in understanding.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

W0NWILL

Paranine took the offered paw lightly and shook it before letting her paws drop to her sides disinterestedly, "Aye, I'm fine." She stared at him a few moments before remembering to curtsy, "Paranine," she introduced herself, "yes, I am."

Groddil

Francis glanced at the pocket watch once more.
"Getting late. Should probably start to hurry if I'm going to make it there in time."
The mouse left Paranine to her own devices and set off at a brisk pace. He studied a small notepad whilst on the move, muttering to himself.
"Hmm, R'lyeh...Disappearances...Talk to Hastur."

W0NWILL

"Hm?" Paranine hummed, twitching an ear at the disappearances part. She jogged a bit to keep close to him, planning to eavesdrop on any further mutterings. R'lyeh was a little new to her, but not unheard of. She'd have a talk with Fletcher later about that.

Groddil

Francis raised an eyebrow as Paranine expressed quiet interest in his mutterings. The mouse paused, slowing to walk beside her.
"Interested in my research, are you? Well, I guess telling somebeast can't hurt, so long as you don't spread the rumors all over the town. My brother, Hastur, left home some seasons back to come to Dunwich. I found his notes, and followed him here. Apparently there've been a number of disappearances in the Abbey, linked to the pond. And I found this scrawled inside the vocer: 'Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.' No idea what it means."

Hickory

Nick returned to his office and slumped in his chair. Taking in a deep breath, he let it out and closed his eyes. Often, he did this to clear his head and to help figure out the mystery. Drownings weren't uncommon at the Abbey pond, just easily taken care of. Most victims were rescued in the nick of time. Unless...

He moved on to a different train of thought. The otter was a good swimmer, his parents and grandmother had all testified to his excellence in the water. There had been no other swimmer at the time - many beasts were on the shore, but none in the water. Except for the otter, of course.

Witness reports. Some of the creatures at the scene seemed to have seen and heard the otter crying for help. Many didn't respond to those sorts of calls by children, always assuming that they were just playing. Nobeast got a good look at the water, however.

It had been said before that the drowning was actually a murder. Nick contemplated the possibility. It would've been easy for any creature to hold his breath for long enough and slip in unnoticed, waiting underwater to drag the otter down. But who would want to kill the child?

The mouse's eyes popped open. Looking at the clock, he decided he would go on an early lunch break. What was the harm? He stood up and slipped on his coat. On his way out of the room, Nick bumped into Catherine. "Mr. Valentine, I got those files. There wasn't much to go off of, so I threw in some witness reports on the past crimes. Is that okay?"

Nick nodded. "Leave it on my desk, I'm leaving for lunch."

She started telling him that he should stick to his schedule, but the mouse was already out of the door.

Many of the best cafés and restaurants were on the main avenue leading up to the Abbey gates, but Nick knew a place deep in the city that was an excellent location to meet contacts, get up to speed on gossip, and eat a great plate of food, for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He started down a side street which would lead him to the restaurant.

When he arrived, the weasel behind the counter smiled at Nick and beaconed to an empty booth at near the front. This was Ivan, one of Nick's backstreet "friends." In reality, he was a waiter by day and a criminal at night. Nick had caught him a long time ago and was still blackmailing the weasel into giving him information. The mouse grinned back as he took his seat. "Good to see you again, Mr. Hassett. I was wondering about something different this time... Something from the Abbey?"

Ivan dropped his smile. "I suppose you've heard about the murder, Mr. Valentine? Shame that such a young beast had to die."

Leaning in under the pretense of giving Nick a menu, the weasel whispered, "Twelve years ago, it was squirrel twins. Same circumstances as the last one, last name of Calchas."

Standing back up straight, he backed away. "The cooks will have your meal ready shortly."
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Groddil

#9
Glancing once again at his watch, Francis left Paranine to think on the information.
"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, strolling down the street, but I have to hurry up. I'm taking a shortcut, see you around."
The mouse ducked into a back alley at a brisk jog, disappearing from sight quickly.

<\//\\/>

Taking the alley turned out to be a positive move. Within minutes, Francis was staring at the gates of Redwall Abbey. The mouse thumped them roughly. A wizened old dormouse creaked the gate open.
"'Oo a' 'you, mista? Ya face 'sn't known t'me."
Francis shook the dormouse's crackled paw.
"Francis Alhazred. I'm here to talk to Hastur, my brother."
The dormouse nodded, beckoning for the newcomer to come inside.

Hickory

Nick left the restaurant thinking hard. Two victims, with the exact same circumstances, killed in the pond. Squirrels. Calchas. He'd have to consult the database for accidents by the pond, although it probably wouldn't yield much. Perhaps if he looked at the coroner's report in the Abbey, seeing that they did their own funerals. That would give him the cause of death, murder or accident.

A plan formulating in his head, Nick started toward the main Abbey gates. The area was still bustling with beasts trying to get in, but he as fairly certain his badge would make short work of the security.

OOC: Sand, mind if you play security like you did in your post?
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

LT Sandpaw


OOC: No problem

IC:

The mouse security guard waved his paw letting in a few bustling voles. His gaze slipped uninterestedly over their bags as they walked through. "Evening Mr. Bankston, Mrs. Bankston, an the little Bankstons too, have a pleasant evening."

He looked up as another mouse approached the gate. Smiling at the visitor, the guard flicked his claws to get his attention.

"Pleasant evening sir, I'm afraid I don't recognize you, please sign your name here. Do you have an appointment, or are you here for a standard visit?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the pond Coaltop paced back and forth across the bank occasionally scratching his arm. He was early, very early in fact but that didn't stop him from being concerned. It wouldn't be the first time somebeast stood him up for being a weasel.

The arranged meeting spot was devoid of any other creatures. A few young otters splashed in the shadows further away enjoying the cool evening waters. However beyond them Coaltop was alone. Tapping his claws together Coaltop watched as one of the young otters backstroked out into the deeper waters her nose sticking out above the surface.

She was small, probably an orphan that the Abbey had taken in. Turning away from her Coaltop fiddled with some sand his mind instantly occupied with thousands of ideas. Apply heat and pressure to sand and it created glass. What would happen if somebeast was to apply heat and pressure to other materials?


"Sometimes its not about winning, but how you lose." - John Gwynne

"Facts don't care about your feelings." -Ben Shapiro

Hickory

Nick pulled out his police badge as he walked forward. This was a new guard, he hadn't seen him yet. "Hello, I'm Inspector Valentine with the DPD. I hope it's okay that I just pop in - there are some beasts living on the grounds that I need to question regarding a lead I have one a case. Oh, I suppose you need my ID."

The mouse fumbled with his inner jacket pocket. Finally, he extracted the small slip of paper with his credidentials and such. "Here," he said.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Groddil

The old dormouse led Francis through the Abbey's darkened halls, stopping near the kitchen.
"Here you go. Hastur kept an office in the cellars, just go through the kitchen. I bid you goodnight."
Francis thanked the dormouse and strode through the kitchen, nodding to the kitchen assistants. Time to find out what Hastur truly knew...He stopped at a small staircase and ducked into the cellars. A solid wooden door was set into a corner with the words "Hastur Alhazred. P.I." carved into a plaque. Francis tried the handle but it was locked. Setting his shoulder to the door, the mouse pushed against it with all his might. Nothing. He knocked on it forcefully.
"Hastur! You in there? Open the door, it's your brother!"
No response...Francis peered through the keyhole, but it was too small to see anything. He crossed the cellar and found a hedgehog toiling away with a barrel of October Ale.
"Excuse me, friend. Francis Alhazred, I'm here to find my brother Hastur, but his door is locked."
The hedgehog nodded, unclipping a keyring from his broad belt.
"'Ere, take these. They'll open erry door in the cellars. Just bring 'em back t'me when yer done."
Francis nodded, going back to Hastur's office. The mouse turned the key in the lock, and walked into the office. He let out a scream. Hastur was indeed in the office, hanging from the ceiling by his neck with a thick rope woven from pondweed. His corpse was covered in hundreds of injuries. Written on the wall in blood, nodoubtly his, were the words "Alhazred! G'yeth! G'yeth!"

LT Sandpaw


The mouse guard barely glanced at the credentials. He focused instead on the badge his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "Ah welcome inspector, what a surprise. Please go in by all means." The mouse did a half salute then as if remembering something picked up a sheet of paper.

"Um if you wouldn't mind Inspector, I'm trying to sign onto the city police. Perhaps you could put in a good word in for me sometime?"


"Sometimes its not about winning, but how you lose." - John Gwynne

"Facts don't care about your feelings." -Ben Shapiro