"Y-you wouldn't! You don't have the guts...you don't...not one bit..." more and more Davin's tone falters as he looks at Holly. She doesn't stop smiling. Finally he turns back to Feld. "I take it back! I take it back! Give me to the good guard, he knows what he's doing! I'll tell you ever-"
However he's cut short by the immense roar of Emmahk.
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Riela is downright apoplectic, but all the seething furor in the world won't protect her in the event Emmahk takes a swing. With her jaw clenched, her arms trembling and a tendon on the side of her neck visibly twitching, she turns on her heel and stalks away towards the back of the car to decompress and come back to her senses. On the way there, she slams her fist against the surface of a nearby table, and another bottle explodes somewhere near Davin's head, raining alcohol and shards of glass onto his shoulders.
"Look, just don't kill me. Okay? What I can tell you is that the guards are obviously the targets. The money that's been taken has always just been a bonus!" Davin blubbers, squirming in Emmahk's claws. "I can give you more information! Just put me down and take me to the garrison, look she can confi-"
Before the former-Corporal can point at the freed civilian woman, a glimpse of her hair is seen trailing out and into the next carriage. As you move to stop her the lightning rail comes to a screeching halt. You all stumble and hear a scattered shout and groan as both Riela and Oristok fall back through the doors into your current compartment. They dust themselves off and your gaze, including Davin's, turns to the group before them. They are clad in a deep, blood-like crimson that shines through the fabric of their coats. Newly polished armour glints through the Winter sunlight from outside, the moisture from melted snow that has fallen in patches only enhancing the overall spectacle of their uniform. A squad of twelve piles in, taking tactical positions as they cover each exit, corner, and window. Several of these men and women are armed with crossbows, maroon bolts setting them apart from run-of-the-mill weaponry.
A proud figure, at least six foot, seven inches, steps forward in a calm yet brisk manner. He pulls off an ornate yet battle-scarred helmet, visor not even letting out a minor whimper as it falls open. Everything about this group screams maintained, professional, and advanced. And deadly. Very deadly. The epaulets on his uniform depict him as a decorated officer, and the bronze, custom-made hilt of his sword screams out wealth. He stands tall before you all, brushing a loose strand of greying-black hair from his face, mottled by minor scars and knicks which bely a chiselled jaw and flat yet angular nose.
"Captain on deck!" A solider behind him cries out. Immediately the congregation stands at attention, holstering weapons simultaneously.
"Captain Grier, 6th Company, 1st platoon," he barks at you all. "Who's in charge of this outfit?"
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"Sir, Rail Marshall Feld, sir." Feld snaps a salute. "I'm not quite sure who's in charge, sir. Davin's turned traitor."
Emmahk pushes Corporal Davin to his knees in front of Grier. She nods respectfully at the captain. "Corporal Davin, a traitor formerly of the Sharn Watch, in charge of both this outfit-" she points to her fellow guards- "and this outfit." She indicates the dead and unconscious bandits littering the train.
"I believe he's ready to make a full confession." Her claws dig into his shoulder ever-so-slightly.
Davin's eyes water, the silent tears mixing in with the blood on his face. Grier considers him for a moment before snapping his fingers, a sound which echoes around you. Immediately two soldiers run up and begin to drag away the traitorous Corporal, who is silent all throughout the process.
"He'll be processed, filed, and flagged, in due time," Grier quietly remarks. Despite his soft voice you hear the steely edge to it, mostly due to the wind having ceased, snow resuming its gentle fall outside. "We'll take it from here, guards. Second squad!"
The remaining troops, stand even further up at attention, something you all thought impossible.
"Process these six. Take them to Warden Towers. Give Inspector Kren'cha my regards," at this Grier steps away and leaves as quickly as he entered, not bothering to listen to a single word of yours.
Abruptly you are all grabbed by the squad of soldiers and hauled out of the train. You are not manacled, not tied up, and your rights have not been read to you. You find yourselves on a non-descript platform in the middle of Middle Menthis Plateau with a carriage waiting for you. The guards pile you inside, two taking up positions up front to take the reigns of the horses, while two more carriages flank you from the front and behind. You feel like you are in some sort of twisted procession. All you know is your destination. Nothing else.
Welcome to Sharn.
OOC:
You may continue to RP and discuss these matters within the carriage, or I can take you directly to the next situation for debriefing. Entirely up to you, post your say in the OOC thread.
Holly not so subtly places the bottle she grabbed behind her and stands more or less at attention, wondering what new wonderful twist and turns today will bring.
First the commander turns rogue, now a captain. If the captain turns rogue, i fucking quit. Holly keeps staring ahead, thinking loudly.
"Yeah, don't wager for the same reasons though. Though, you never know with humans." she smiles with a wink to Oristok "First team to make it out alive though, so we're probably not fired?"
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"Actually, Ori..." Feld shakes his head, looking into space. He sighs. "Was hoping for better treatment in the watch. Coming to Sharn was rough, it wasn't by choice and I'm still homesick, I've spent this last year away from where I belong. Jehosaphat!" Feld spits. "Travelling is for the birds, or for those who don't know what they have. I should've stayed home, and I'm going to figure a way home when this is over."
"Yeah, vacation time means I'd probably head back to my old master and just visit with her in Greywall for a little while." Oristok looks to the roof of the carriage they're in, "Yeah, that'd be nice to just relax for a little."
Emmahk's bulk is rather uncomfortably wedged into the carriage in every dimension, particularly vertically. It isn't terribly pleasant for whatever unfortunate souls have to share that side's bench with her, either.
She looks out the windows, tapping her claws against an armored plate on her thigh.
Riela does her best to distance herself from the rest of the carriage's passengers, squeezing herself up against the wall and drawing her legs against her chest. She wraps her arms around her shins and rests her forehead against her knees, breathing calmly and no longer shaking but clearly still coming down from whatever unholy fervor seized her in the train only minutes prior.
"travelling isn't so bad, you just need the right company. I was palling around with a few people before I got to Sharn, and once my business here is done I'll probably be out on the road again once i meet a few people I can stand and can hold a blade."
Emmahk ceases her fidgeting, adjusts her position slightly, and clears her throat.
"Rail Marshall... Feld, was it?" she asks. "I simply cannot contain myself any longer- why that ridiculous poncho?"
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edited February 2013
"Draws a minimal amount of attention at most, and it's all directed towards the outfit. My face might as well not exist. Good way to keep inconspicuous."
"It also gives me something to make fun of him for, because he wears it every time we're on assignment." Riela straightens up and rubs her hands over her face.
The paddy wagon comes to a stop, a soft jolt bringing you all to attention as the door is pulled open and you're all beckoned outside. No restraints still, but this time you're not yanked to and fro by the red-clad soldiers. They actually stay behind, watching you as a group of regular Watch guards scramble over and hurriedly pull you away from the carriages. As soon as you hit the steps leading up to the garrison, the soldiers leave without saying a single word. Turning your attention upwards you begin to see the high rising towers of Sharn. From here on Menthis you can actually just make out the tops of the tallest spires, the snowfall so thin now that their sharp ends can be seen to effortlessly point towards the heavens.
However this is cut short the second you're pulled inside Warden Towers. It is an old, but well-maintained building and the lobby scream well-mannered bureaucracy. Officers of all ranks can be seen moving back and forth from one office to another, from checkpoint to checkpoint, each separated by velvet rope. The three guards with you, lead you up a flight of stairs and to an elevator. Once inside you're finally given some sort of direction and anchoring to what's going on.
"Welcome to Warden Towers, officers," a Private addresses you all, cranking a lever which seals the lift's doors shut, while another Private winds a cog to a certain number on its dial. As you feel the weight shift beneath your feet he continues on. "Name's Faris, Private Faris. Seems like those Redcloaks kinda manhandled you. Sorry to see that, we were supposed to be first on scene but rank got pulled all too easily on us. If we'd have arrived first you'd probably be shouted a drink more than shoved in a carriage without explanation."
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edited February 2013
"Hm. Fancier arrangement than I'm used to. What's this all about?"
"Well you all know about the train incidents. They don't like to talk about it here," the sandy-haired Private says, keeping his voice low as the others don't seem quite as enthused about the topic at hand. "Too much blood, too many friends and family lost. But that's the thing, we'd normally be out and about on the hunt for guard-killers. This time not so much. And the way the Redcloaks have been acting isn't good either. They don't seem angry or even interested. Just...tense. Maybe even scared?"
Faris can't help but shrug aimlessly. The levels tick further up on the floor level indicator. Only a few more left, then you'll be past the lower third of the Main Tower.
"I can't give you much in terms of information," he starts again, his voice breaking the silence formerly punctuated by the sounds of churning cogs and arcane sparks. "But I can say this. Don't stare at the Inspector. You're not from our precinct, so you won't be use to it. But do not stare."
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Within the safety of the towers, there's no need to maintain her cover, and Riela has already tied her hair up and back into the tight, professional bun she's known for. Shoulders squared, posture rigid and looking very bit the quintessential Guardswoman (aside from her tattered disguise) she folds her hands behind her back and keeps her eyes straight ahead as they ascend.
"...Actually no. Much better than that, all being said."
At that moment the elevator comes to a grinding, but deliberate halt. Faris leads you all away while the other Privates stay behind and keep the doors open. You find yourself in a circular hallway, walking past many offices and guards as well as clerks. They stare at you, for good reason, as a mixture of blood, snow, and grit is left in your wake as you non-chalantly stride past. Finally, after what feels like hours literally walking in a circle, Faris stops you at a particular door. Small scratches indent the area around the handle, but before you can ask he knocks loudly against the wood.
"Yeah?" A raspy, hum of a voice sounds from behind.
"Private Faris, Insect- Inspector. Here with the train guards, sir!"
"Send 'em in!"
The Private opens the door and motions for you all, he takes no opportunity to even try and come inside with you as you enter the cramped, dusty office that is jam packed with files and case notes. Then you see him.
A gnarled and weathered carapace covers his entire frame, which an ill-fitting guard uniform adorns, sleeves tattered and new holes made for his various limbs. A single patch can be seen next to the Watch insignia, it is a symbol sewn into the uniform which depicts a circle divided in half horizontally, with the lower half being further divided vertically and with five notches crossing over that particular line. A bowl of rocks sit on the table and a name plaque says in bold typeface INSPECTOR KREN'CHA, B.I.S.. Despite having no real lower jaw, cheeks, nose, or mouth for that matter, you can all tell the Inspector is a surly sort and the look directed at you as a collective group is not one that shows much warmth or excitement.
"A traitorous guard captured, six bandits dead, another six unconscious and currently being woken up as we speak in their holding cells, a group of civilians locked inside a secured Watch compartment, numerous windows broken, and," at this particular point, Kren'cha grabs a piece of parchment on his desk. It looks like a report. News travels fast. He resumes my jabbing a spare claw at Emmahk. "Earthly gods knows how many chairs frozen and beyond repair!"
He pauses for another moment, thorax rising and falling rapidly.
"You mind telling me what happened on that lightning rail coach, exactly, and why I shouldn't have your arses down in Internal Affairs to be processed alongside a former Corporal stripped of rank and standing?"
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AntimatterDevo Was RightGates of SteelRegistered Userregular
"Sir, if you think it's best, I would be dismissed without protest. Riela and I were in a cabin when bandits attacked the train, we met up with the guards and took it back. I did not assault any of the resisting criminals with lethal force or intent. We then discovered Davin was a traitor. We took care of him, but the woman he held captive ran off."
Feld speaks eloquently and clearly, holding himself straight and firm. This isn't the first insect man he's met before, and he doubts it'll be the last.
The insectoid regards Feld's words for a moment before heaving a sigh, grabbing two rocks from the bowl with a claw. He begins to massage them in what can only be described as his chitinous "palm."
"Marshall Feld, Marshall Seran, my so-called bovine ground meat is not in regards to your activities. It is primarily the guards associated with former-Corporal Davin that I am concerned with," Kren'cha turns back with a click of his mandibles at the other four. "After such an incident, I need a fresh glass of trust because we are all tapped out here and I am damn-well parched."
Holly tries not to stare, blinking a few times and then focusing on part of the wall behind the inspector, more shocked to see a Thri-kreen outside of the Xen'drix, or to be seeing a Thri-kreen at at all, really.
"Embedded ambush, sir. The train diverted course, and when I brought it up and offered to investigate Corporal, uh, Darvis, said he would investigate, and that's when the bandits leaped into action. We did our best to contain the situation dealing force thought necessary. The corporal was found int he dining car, armed and working with the attackers, and after he spewed some incredibly hurtful things about some of our team, was consequently beaten to a pulp." she clears her throat "There was of course, collateral damage."
"Collateral damage? You broke windows, smashed warming lanterns, and froze chairs. You even clogged a fireplace with the body of a bandit! If this were the Summer months I would be commending your actions on bringing a cool breeze to our sun-baked backs and foreheads. Unfortunately it's Vult, the holy days are closing in, and House Canninth is on our arses about why a train of theirs has to be temporarily decommissioned at such a peak time of the month."
Emmahk steps forward bowing slightly. "Additionally, the now-former Corporal voiced some disquieting pro-human sentiments and confirmed that the killing of members of the Watch was the primary goal of these attacks, with robberies being incidental."
The rocks in Kren'cha's grasp crumble, causing him to momentarily smash a balled up hammer of a claw onto the desk. A few moments of silence cloud over the atmosphere of the room, no murmurs can even be heard from neighbouring offices. Finally the Thri-Kreen takes another two rocks, and begins to manage his anger once more.
"I know, Officer Emmahk. I know," a hint of regret and spoonful of impatience can be heard in the low thrumming of the Inspector's voice. He sits back in his chair, which surprisingly still looks new with almost no creases in the leather nor stress marks on the wood. He obviously does not sit very much. "I...apologise for losing my temper over the unimportant issues. It's been a hard past few weeks. Like I said there's not much reason to trust anyone in the Watch, let alone when guards start dying and investigations and stone-walled."
A spare limb reaches behind and parts the shades of his office blinds open partially. He swivels in his chair and peers out, absent-mindedly scanning the city's towers and peaks and streets.
"We're at war, ladies and gentlemen," he remarks, casually, like he's addressing the weather. "You think you know what the situation may or may not be, but there's a whole other dimension to it all."
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"We're all ears, sir." Feld's expression is solemn.
Posts
However he's cut short by the immense roar of Emmahk.
Riela is downright apoplectic, but all the seething furor in the world won't protect her in the event Emmahk takes a swing. With her jaw clenched, her arms trembling and a tendon on the side of her neck visibly twitching, she turns on her heel and stalks away towards the back of the car to decompress and come back to her senses. On the way there, she slams her fist against the surface of a nearby table, and another bottle explodes somewhere near Davin's head, raining alcohol and shards of glass onto his shoulders.
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Before the former-Corporal can point at the freed civilian woman, a glimpse of her hair is seen trailing out and into the next carriage. As you move to stop her the lightning rail comes to a screeching halt. You all stumble and hear a scattered shout and groan as both Riela and Oristok fall back through the doors into your current compartment. They dust themselves off and your gaze, including Davin's, turns to the group before them. They are clad in a deep, blood-like crimson that shines through the fabric of their coats. Newly polished armour glints through the Winter sunlight from outside, the moisture from melted snow that has fallen in patches only enhancing the overall spectacle of their uniform. A squad of twelve piles in, taking tactical positions as they cover each exit, corner, and window. Several of these men and women are armed with crossbows, maroon bolts setting them apart from run-of-the-mill weaponry.
A proud figure, at least six foot, seven inches, steps forward in a calm yet brisk manner. He pulls off an ornate yet battle-scarred helmet, visor not even letting out a minor whimper as it falls open. Everything about this group screams maintained, professional, and advanced. And deadly. Very deadly. The epaulets on his uniform depict him as a decorated officer, and the bronze, custom-made hilt of his sword screams out wealth. He stands tall before you all, brushing a loose strand of greying-black hair from his face, mottled by minor scars and knicks which bely a chiselled jaw and flat yet angular nose.
"Captain on deck!" A solider behind him cries out. Immediately the congregation stands at attention, holstering weapons simultaneously.
"Captain Grier, 6th Company, 1st platoon," he barks at you all. "Who's in charge of this outfit?"
"I believe he's ready to make a full confession." Her claws dig into his shoulder ever-so-slightly.
"He'll be processed, filed, and flagged, in due time," Grier quietly remarks. Despite his soft voice you hear the steely edge to it, mostly due to the wind having ceased, snow resuming its gentle fall outside. "We'll take it from here, guards. Second squad!"
The remaining troops, stand even further up at attention, something you all thought impossible.
"Process these six. Take them to Warden Towers. Give Inspector Kren'cha my regards," at this Grier steps away and leaves as quickly as he entered, not bothering to listen to a single word of yours.
Abruptly you are all grabbed by the squad of soldiers and hauled out of the train. You are not manacled, not tied up, and your rights have not been read to you. You find yourselves on a non-descript platform in the middle of Middle Menthis Plateau with a carriage waiting for you. The guards pile you inside, two taking up positions up front to take the reigns of the horses, while two more carriages flank you from the front and behind. You feel like you are in some sort of twisted procession. All you know is your destination. Nothing else.
Welcome to Sharn.
OOC:
First the commander turns rogue, now a captain. If the captain turns rogue, i fucking quit. Holly keeps staring ahead, thinking loudly.
She looks out the windows, tapping her claws against an armored plate on her thigh.
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"Rail Marshall... Feld, was it?" she asks. "I simply cannot contain myself any longer- why that ridiculous poncho?"
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The paddy wagon comes to a stop, a soft jolt bringing you all to attention as the door is pulled open and you're all beckoned outside. No restraints still, but this time you're not yanked to and fro by the red-clad soldiers. They actually stay behind, watching you as a group of regular Watch guards scramble over and hurriedly pull you away from the carriages. As soon as you hit the steps leading up to the garrison, the soldiers leave without saying a single word. Turning your attention upwards you begin to see the high rising towers of Sharn. From here on Menthis you can actually just make out the tops of the tallest spires, the snowfall so thin now that their sharp ends can be seen to effortlessly point towards the heavens.
However this is cut short the second you're pulled inside Warden Towers. It is an old, but well-maintained building and the lobby scream well-mannered bureaucracy. Officers of all ranks can be seen moving back and forth from one office to another, from checkpoint to checkpoint, each separated by velvet rope. The three guards with you, lead you up a flight of stairs and to an elevator. Once inside you're finally given some sort of direction and anchoring to what's going on.
"Welcome to Warden Towers, officers," a Private addresses you all, cranking a lever which seals the lift's doors shut, while another Private winds a cog to a certain number on its dial. As you feel the weight shift beneath your feet he continues on. "Name's Faris, Private Faris. Seems like those Redcloaks kinda manhandled you. Sorry to see that, we were supposed to be first on scene but rank got pulled all too easily on us. If we'd have arrived first you'd probably be shouted a drink more than shoved in a carriage without explanation."
Faris can't help but shrug aimlessly. The levels tick further up on the floor level indicator. Only a few more left, then you'll be past the lower third of the Main Tower.
"I can't give you much in terms of information," he starts again, his voice breaking the silence formerly punctuated by the sounds of churning cogs and arcane sparks. "But I can say this. Don't stare at the Inspector. You're not from our precinct, so you won't be use to it. But do not stare."
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At that moment the elevator comes to a grinding, but deliberate halt. Faris leads you all away while the other Privates stay behind and keep the doors open. You find yourself in a circular hallway, walking past many offices and guards as well as clerks. They stare at you, for good reason, as a mixture of blood, snow, and grit is left in your wake as you non-chalantly stride past. Finally, after what feels like hours literally walking in a circle, Faris stops you at a particular door. Small scratches indent the area around the handle, but before you can ask he knocks loudly against the wood.
"Yeah?" A raspy, hum of a voice sounds from behind.
"Private Faris, Insect- Inspector. Here with the train guards, sir!"
"Send 'em in!"
The Private opens the door and motions for you all, he takes no opportunity to even try and come inside with you as you enter the cramped, dusty office that is jam packed with files and case notes. Then you see him.
A gnarled and weathered carapace covers his entire frame, which an ill-fitting guard uniform adorns, sleeves tattered and new holes made for his various limbs. A single patch can be seen next to the Watch insignia, it is a symbol sewn into the uniform which depicts a circle divided in half horizontally, with the lower half being further divided vertically and with five notches crossing over that particular line. A bowl of rocks sit on the table and a name plaque says in bold typeface INSPECTOR KREN'CHA, B.I.S.. Despite having no real lower jaw, cheeks, nose, or mouth for that matter, you can all tell the Inspector is a surly sort and the look directed at you as a collective group is not one that shows much warmth or excitement.
"A traitorous guard captured, six bandits dead, another six unconscious and currently being woken up as we speak in their holding cells, a group of civilians locked inside a secured Watch compartment, numerous windows broken, and," at this particular point, Kren'cha grabs a piece of parchment on his desk. It looks like a report. News travels fast. He resumes my jabbing a spare claw at Emmahk. "Earthly gods knows how many chairs frozen and beyond repair!"
He pauses for another moment, thorax rising and falling rapidly.
"You mind telling me what happened on that lightning rail coach, exactly, and why I shouldn't have your arses down in Internal Affairs to be processed alongside a former Corporal stripped of rank and standing?"
Feld speaks eloquently and clearly, holding himself straight and firm. This isn't the first insect man he's met before, and he doubts it'll be the last.
"Marshall Feld, Marshall Seran, my so-called bovine ground meat is not in regards to your activities. It is primarily the guards associated with former-Corporal Davin that I am concerned with," Kren'cha turns back with a click of his mandibles at the other four. "After such an incident, I need a fresh glass of trust because we are all tapped out here and I am damn-well parched."
"Embedded ambush, sir. The train diverted course, and when I brought it up and offered to investigate Corporal, uh, Darvis, said he would investigate, and that's when the bandits leaped into action. We did our best to contain the situation dealing force thought necessary. The corporal was found int he dining car, armed and working with the attackers, and after he spewed some incredibly hurtful things about some of our team, was consequently beaten to a pulp." she clears her throat "There was of course, collateral damage."
"I know, Officer Emmahk. I know," a hint of regret and spoonful of impatience can be heard in the low thrumming of the Inspector's voice. He sits back in his chair, which surprisingly still looks new with almost no creases in the leather nor stress marks on the wood. He obviously does not sit very much. "I...apologise for losing my temper over the unimportant issues. It's been a hard past few weeks. Like I said there's not much reason to trust anyone in the Watch, let alone when guards start dying and investigations and stone-walled."
A spare limb reaches behind and parts the shades of his office blinds open partially. He swivels in his chair and peers out, absent-mindedly scanning the city's towers and peaks and streets.
"We're at war, ladies and gentlemen," he remarks, casually, like he's addressing the weather. "You think you know what the situation may or may not be, but there's a whole other dimension to it all."
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