Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Lent » Thu Jul 11, 2013 7:06 am

Third Rule of Myrken Wood: Nothing's Sacred. Want to know the first rule? Don't care. Third rule is what matters here. Some places should be sacred. Home and Hearth. Church and Hearth. Meeting House and Hearth. Everywhere needs a Hearth. Gets cold in the winter. Fire's cheaper than blankets. Grows on trees. The place that has a hearth and is the most sacred of all? The tavern. Father to you; best place to ask advice. Mother to you; the teat you suckle on til the day you die. Brother to you; nowhere better to find fellowship. Sister to you; well, if you had a sister it'd make her both prettier and easier to deal with the longer you were there.

Sacred, that's the point, except in Myrken, nothing's sacred. Try to burn a Councilor's house, good and fine. Succeed, kill some poor bastard, bit less good, but not the end of the world. Try to burn down the Inquisitory, they probably deserve it. Little piggies who go wee-wee-wee and build a house out of stone, anyway. "They tried to burn down the Stinky Sheep, Eddington." So pay attention, right.

Lentham was ragged as ever, making his erstwhile partner and subordinate looking almost dashing by comparison. "Did pretty good with the last fires, good enough. Followed leads. Took notes. Didn't get killed. Didn't kill any babies. Showed that you could do the job if the job was right for the doing. Maybe it is now," he looked down at a little notebook and blinked three, slow, long blinks. "This is more serious. Good place, nice people, cheap drinks. We've survived the Meetinghouse burning down. Nothing important in there. Taverns though? Taverns are the lifeblood and all that. Or the drink is the life blood and the taverns are those things that blood flows through. Veins, right?" Enough looking at the notebook. Best to move on to the lifeblood. He opened his flash, took a sip, didn't share. Eddington proved himself competent, not a hero.

"Tell me again what you think about your fire. Then I'll tell you about mine."That would be the easy part. Words. Drinks. Drink, that was, since Eddington didn't get one. They were walking down a dark path now. Made him peering at that notebook pointless. Sometimes you did pointless things in Myrken to remind yourself that you were alive. Rule Five. That one was for free. Eddington hadn't been informed where they were going, just asked to meet Lentham here by the edge of the town wall. "What I learned from talking to who what were there."
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Katie » Thu Jul 11, 2013 11:47 am

Tomias Eddington spent most of his time with a headache.

He came to Myrkentown with a headache -- weeks of travel will do that to the most fit man. Then he met people who made his head pound; whether they were non-humans that turned his stomach or particularly fat girls who did nothing but reprimand him when they didn't want something, or talk his ear off when they did. He dealt with these scenarios by suckling the teet of a liquor bottle. During his time as a constable, he had made enough money to at least carry a leather-bound flask in his belt. So when Lentham called on him again in that rambling, half-sentenced way, the headache was already there.

Tomias had shaven a few days before, so it was enough time for the dirty-blonde stubble to return against his chiseled and scarred jaw. He wore his hat -- it hid how long ago he had washed his curly hair -- and kept his large hands deep within a tunic pocket. He agreed to meet and he did so with as much punctuality as he could muster. Of course, Lentham didn't offer him a drink. Tomias unhooked the flask and drank his own brew.

"I didn't solve the matter," he says in regards to the burning house. "Was planning on it, but I at least determined it was arson." He glanced around Lentham carefully, a habit the man was known to do, probably in his own bedroom. It must've proved annoying to the whores, or at least the ones he tried to find.

"What do you need, Lentham?" he asked then, skipping around the questions he was asked. Perhaps he didn't understand them. Perhaps he chose not to try. The headache was returning. "Is there another arson?"
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Lent » Thu Jul 11, 2013 1:06 pm

World seemed to slow down for a moment. Eddington here pulled something out. Flask of his own. Well, look at that. Human civilization on the move. Tough out there, streets of Myrken. Lots of loss even now. Some things got better, some things didn't. Constabulary was better off with Calomel. Good young people, people like McCoy. Different times now. Different balance needed. It was success. Success bred other vices. Sometimes the vices looked like virtues.

"You know, Eddington," gruff voice pushed past lips that had long known the proximity of stubble without care. "Think this might work out after all. You're okay."

Excuses. Would get to it. What was a little fire, right? Little chance of it happening again. Other things to do, Lentham understood that. Get situated. Get a flask. Fill it. Priorities. He sipped of his own with a slow, bleary-eyed nod. Those eyes were focused now, though, looking at his fellow Constable for the first time.

"Another fire, two. First one was an attempt at the big brains. Second was an attempt at a pub. A good pub," you hear that Eddington? "Stinky Sheep, one of the best. Barely got put out. It's war, is what it is, and you're enlisted, Constable."
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Katie » Sat Jul 13, 2013 3:26 pm

Tomias' headache began to dull at the mention of another fire. He lifted a large, calloused hand to his face, gently rubbing against the stubble and making an audible scratching sound when he did. He lifted the flask, gulping down some fire water that was probably better for degreasing cart axles than it was for consumption.

"Another fire?" he asked then, watching Lentham. The man's way of speaking was like playing chess after a night of binging. It made his eyes blink, but Tomias was beginning to learn that quirks were things to be understood. Picked apart, reassembled into something that was tangible and sensical, and then he could do something with it. Another fire. His lips pressed together. "Stinky Sheep? The hell is that, another pub?"

Burning down a person's house made sense to Tomias. It was an easy way to kill someone indirectly; any evidence was usually lost in the fire itself, the person usually died sleeping or they suffocated. Likely, there was no personal connection between the arsonist and the victim and usually there was an item involved -- money, deeds and the like -- that need to go down with him. But fires that consume public buildings, where people frequented and were wholly innocent, was another matter.

He paused then, nodding once. Godsdammit, he was going to have to shave again. "What have you got for me?" he asked. "I had nothing to work with the first time and there has to be more than finding out who might want to burn down a tavern." He paused a moment. "And we ought to act fast. The Broken Dagger is another popular one." For a moment, he considered some of the frequenters and then he shook the thought from his head that a good clensing wouldn't be bad for that sort of place.

He gave Lentham a leveled gaze, one that expected a name. A suspect. But in the end, his stomach felt like it was filled with lead weights, because Lentham was anything but helpful.
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Lent » Sun Jul 14, 2013 9:14 am

Funny thing, what makes a headache go away. All this talk of fire just made Lentham's worse. Most things did. The Flask helped. The Stinky Sheep helped because it refilled the flask. Fire and alcohol didn't mix, or maybe they did. Maybe that made Lentham like fire. Maybe thinking like that was what gave him a headache? Maybe it was just thinking in general.

Enough.

"Didn't know the Stinky Sheep?" A bit of disappointment. Eddington'd been doing so well, too. "Fine establishment. Every third drink free. Appreciate Constables, they do," as did most establishments in Myrken. It was the sort of thing that unofficially helped. It certainly did with Lentham. He wasn't corrupt, just appreciative. They appreciate him. He appreciates them. Everyone's back gets scratched and the head stops hurting and things start itching. The Constable adjusted his pants slightly and stared Tomias down. "Yeah, someone tried to burn it down, tried the Inquisitory first. Came a lot closer with the Sheep."

Give him a name? That'd be nice, wouldn't it? Just a name and Tomias could go off and do his job. What was ever easy in Myrken? "About what we're going to do, Constable. This is personal and the name I got for you isn't pleasant. Catch. Has motive. People saw him at the scene. This isn't like him but he might know something at least. Finally figured out who bought the house what burnt down. had motive there too. Know anything about him?" If not, this was going to take a stop off at a tavern that hadn't burnt at all. They would need to refill those flasks.
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Katie » Wed Jul 17, 2013 4:20 am

Tomias had asked for a name. He never said it had to be a name he liked.

Catch was nothing better than a human version of an ogre. Tomias had seen him, and disapproved of his nature, early in his visit to Myrken. He took the mind of an otherwise healthy and intelligent girl and bent it. Gloria Wynsee would stand in the very flames that man might set if he asked her to. Worse, he wasn't anywhere near her age. On top of it, his brains were rattled and pieces of them were missing here and there. He spoke in short sentences, with delusions to color his phrases and Tomias had decided long ago that he wasn't safe.

At first, he grumbled. Why did it have to be that ogre of a man? Tomias, however, was very good at finding silver lining. He had been looking for a reason to arrest Catch. If it was up to him, he would've thrown him in a cell and forget about him conveniently, until someone called out his name and wondered where he had disappeared. Oops. Constables make mistakes, too, don't they?

"He's demented and dangerous," Tomias finally said to Lentham, his expression hardened around his scars. He took a gulp from his flask; unlike his better, he came prepared, his flask nearly bubbling over with drink. "I've seen him around, see how he corrupts the minds of women." He winced when he gulped again. "Not that we have a good enough reason to arrest him, but we do have plenty to question him."

He flipped a thumb behind him. "Want me to get him?" Tomias thought about roughing him up. The man wouldn't come quietly and he hoped he wouldn't. "I'm happy to have a conversation with him, see what he knows."
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Lent » Wed Jul 17, 2013 4:30 am

Catch. Eddington was familiar. "Demented. Dangerous. Destructive. D.." Lentham sniffed, went for his flask once again. Catch wasn't a bad sort, except for when he was. "Used to have a Gaol. Then someone tried to put Catch in it. Used to have a lot of things." Even remembered some of them, sometime. Just made him want to drink more. Drink. Drink was a good D word. Made things like Catch easier to swallow. Medicine that made everything easier to swallow, really.

Needed a lot of medicine in Myrken.

"No," as simple as that. He wanted it too bad. Didn't blame him. Bit about women corruption was strange, but he'd seen stranger. You jumped at shadows in Myrken. Everything either was something that bumped in the night or became that way. He understood. Lentham had wanted it with Karolinger. Had good reason. He had wanted it too bad. It had only brought pain. Opened the door that let the demons in. "Said I thought you were okay. Not going to send you alone. Been a while since I had a partner." They all tended to die. Best not to mention that. "We go together. He has a shack. We'll go knocking."
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Katie » Thu Jul 18, 2013 4:34 am

It had been a while since Tomias had a partner, too, and that made him nervous. During his scattered conversation with Lentham, he wasn't sure if he was drunk or too intelligent to really communicate with full sentences. It was as if he had to get the thoughts out before they flittered away. Tomias was more slow; not that he was an idiot, but he had become used to the slower pace. Government was like that, he had learned, and no one liked quick choices because it was too easy for a screw-up to sneak in there somewhere.

Lentham was different. Tomias felt rushed and then uncomfortable. Lentham was stopping him, and he knew it. The man was a constable, such as he, and knew the excuses. He was reeling him in like a fat fish on a rusty hook and he knew the appropriate response was to agree.

"Alright," he said in a lazy drawl. He chugged again, some of the clear liquid running into his stubble. "And if he doesn't answer?"

He pivots, however. He can walk, talk and drink at the same time.
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Lent » Thu Jul 18, 2013 5:55 am

If he didn't answer? Eddington's full of questions. Good in a partner. Meant Lentham could focus on other things during interrogations. Almost figured out how to make his little toe move independently of the one next-sized up. Priorities. Had to tune in for the Catch-talk, though. Too eager with Catch and it all went wrong. Balance though? Might work. Might just, at that. He'd had enough "wrong" for a lifetime. Figured maybe Eddington had enough too. Could always quit and be guards at Lothbury. Good job, quiet. Chance Giscard would wake up and ruin it though.

Catch it was, then. Catch and a dilemma. What if he didn't answer? Thankfully, some answers were easy. "Then we go to the Dagger and have a drink. Maybe we get lucky and he doesn't." This was the easiest.

The two were on the move now. Myrken was not a dreary place in the summer. No more than usual. Last proper drought was years ago. Councilor What's-His-Name-the-Elf managed some plantish hoohah that helped with that. Good. Could use all the help they could get. If anything could make Myrken drearier, it was the two of them, drinking and walking, walking and drinking, sometimes talking. Lentham didn't ask questions, not now, not yet.

Let's see if Eddington survived the next hour first.

Before long, they were past the Dagger, all the way to the shack. "Know what you're thinking. Catch does all he does. Gets a shack. Unfair. Myrken's unfair. Tried giving him other accommodation. Cell. Lodging with Constables. Didn't end well. This means we know where he is at least. Now we can knock. Governor's idea. Governor has lots of ideas. About half are good. This one? Ehhh." Then, with a little pause, he nodded. "Knock." See if he survived the next five minutes.
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Katie » Mon Jul 22, 2013 12:21 pm

At the end of the day, Lentham wasn't a bad superior. Sure, Tomias really hoped he would've let him handle the interrogation on his own, but he also recognized as they walked towards the Broken Dagger that he probably would have blood on his hands and it was really hard to explain away a good beating. Now, it could be done, but Lentham would know and Tomias wasn't interested in putting him in that position.

He also liked Lentham because he didn't make his job more difficult than it had to be. If Catch didn't answer, they could go get drunk. No hunting the ogre down or breaking down doors or questioning people until his mouth was dry and his legs hurt. Simple enough. It didn't sate him, but enough alcohol healed most hurts. At least, for a while.

When they came upon the shack, Tomias' lip curled. It reminded him of outhouses that he used to shit in. Cells didn't contain Catch, nor rentable rooms, but a shack did? Whose miserable idea was this? It wasn't for the constable to make a judgement, he knew, and so he shrugged his shoulder soon after.

He began to think of what he would have today, ale or bourbon, when he pounded his knuckles against the shack's door, the wood reeling back from his calloused hands. He looked over to Lentham, for it was far better for him to announce their presence than it was his.
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby catch » Mon Jul 22, 2013 5:36 pm

There was a knock on the door.

Catch's head lifted from his table, his scraped bowl of turnip soup in front of him, a clatter of wood and tin as he pushes the old meal away from him. He had not been sleeping - at least, he didn't think so - even if his days were full of hard work, and his nights were full of

black milk
and fire.


He has made too much noise to pretend that he was not here. And he could be silent, anyway, so that they, whoever they were, would go away. His head throbbed. It was hot from faded Rum and hot from ashes, and he knew that his clothing stank of it, pitch and wood and flame.

"J-j-just a minute." His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, a dry hack of a greeting.

He stood up, his shack just big enough for a bed, and his table and chairs, and his little stove. He peeled off his stinking clothes, and wadded them up between his hands, and thrust the offending objects under his bed, in the care of his Mother. He draped a quick blanket, a moth-eaten thing snitched from a garbage-pile, over the sleeping piglet on his bed. There is a faint mewling; a stray cat given birth, somewhere in the mess. There is a nest of hummingbirds in one of the empty eyes of a naked doll nailed carefully to the wall.

"A minute," he says again, louder. He pulls on a fresh shirt, and fresh pants, and quickly dunks his head and scrubs some life into his skin from the bucket hanging beside the stove. In case there is a fire, Ser Glenn had told him.

When Catch comes to his door, he is passable. His red-rimmed eyes focus blearily on the two constables, his scar a hideous freshness to offend them, as if by having it out he could chase them away. These men have seen worse war-wounds, however.

"Wh-wh-what c-can I do," he asks, "f-f-for you."

A pause.

"Sers."
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Lent » Tue Jul 23, 2013 12:44 am

What can I do for you. Sers. He says this. That's not the first problem. First problem is that he's there. He's there. They're not drinking. Drinking isn't happening. Happens to be the worst possible scenario. No, not the worst. Worst involves more blood and animal noises. Lots of animal noises. No blood yet. Something to look forward to, maybe? Worst would be that they open the door to the Dagger and a possessed Karolinger is in there having an orgy with whatever was making the animal noises and the dead body of Charles McCoy because that's the sort of thing that happened in the Dagger. Catch was better than that. Sort of.

"Questions," Hand. Flask. Mouth. Already. Priorities. "Just a few. I'm Detective Constable Kurt Lentham. If we've met, it hasn't been much of a meeting. This is Constable Tomias Eddington." A craning of the neck. Sometimes you had to stare at the sun. Sometimes you had to look into Catch's shack if you could. "Questions about fire. Constable Eddington will begin." wanted to do it by himself after all. Let him lead. See where it went. Still, another drink just to make it all go down better.
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Katie » Tue Jul 23, 2013 2:06 pm

Tomias had been to shadier locations. His favorite had been brothels. Filthy ones, filled with whores whose holes had been stretched into sheer uselessness, while their mouths were bright with infection and disease. In times of desperation, men weren't so particular. So his small shack, something a true hermit would enjoy, it wasn't the small that bothered him.

It was some distant anger that did.

"Afternoon," Tomias said, tipping the corner of his fine Derrian hat. It was folded in three spots, making it tri-cornered and the edges were cracked with age, while the underside was soaked in his hair-grease. "May we come in."

He didn't exactly ask. Tomias began to push himself inside, his large, tall body not nearly the walking brick that Catch was, but the heavy boots, the thick, calloused hands and the expression that was missing something was intimidating by nature. It wasn't cold and callous, but certainly wasn't pleasant. It was empty. His blue eyes were like the bottom of wells, now dry and desperate for moisture.

Tomias stepped to the small table and then opened his hand to gesture to it. "Don't let us interrupt your meal, Catch." No title. The ogre hadn't earned that honor yet.

"We're looking to understand something about the fire over at the Stinky Sheep. And your response ought to be without the stutter." From his belt, he opened a small pack. Inside with a tin can, filled with rolled paper and some sort of smoking leaf. Next to the cigarettes were small matches. He struck one on the table in front of Catch and lit an end before he sucked on the other end. He puffed once.

"Start talking."
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby catch » Tue Jul 23, 2013 3:09 pm

Questions, one said. May we come in, said the other, and he, the Derry-man, was a brick of his own. It may surprise him, or it might not, that Catch yields before him, not as solid as he might have been. He was a big man, but he was docile, and his temper was far from roused. Sullen, perhaps, but more because he must play the host, and he, unlike the two Constables, was not a man set hard in his drunk. He became inebriated with only a sip, and the high lasted him all the night through, a night of

black milk
and fire.


"W-w-would you like some water," he stammers, unconsciously disobeying Tomias' edict. He remembers the man, vaguely, and Lentham vaguely still. The inside of the shack smelled of decay and rotten flowers, of bird-shit and musty cloth. Every space on the wall was taken up by dolls, rotting their prettiness away in garbage-heaps until Catch had rescued them, had nailed them carefully to the planks. With three men, it was crowded, and Catch pressed his two mugs and one of his bowls into service, scooping tepid water from the bucket he had just washed his face in. Scant hospitality. But, then, Catch was not used to playing host at all.

"I saw it," he says. Tomias' rough manner frightened him, and his hands shook as he gave them their mugs, and took the water-bowl for himself. Catch felt a nausea rising in his belly at Tomias' white-stick, but he dare say nothing. "I saw it, and. And it w-w-was p-p-p-put out." A pause. A sip, to wet his dry tongue. "I like t-t-to wander a b-b-b-bit at night."
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Re: Dousing the Flames: For the Honor of the Hircine Hogget

Postby Lent » Wed Jul 24, 2013 1:49 am

Expectations. That was one good thing about spending life at the bottom of a flask. You didn't have any. Hadn't thought about what the inside of Catch's hovel would look like. Of all the things in the world to think about, why that? Why that ever? Even on the way there. More reason to focus on what to drink in the Dagger when Catch didn't answer. More reason to focus on Dulcie maybe being behind the bar. More reason to focus on anything.

But there they were. It was a horror house. Eddington had pushed his way in. Maybe Lentham wouldn't have. Maybe he was happier not knowing. Maybe it was too late. Dolls and decay. Is that what Myrken Wood was these days? People whispered, not too loud, though. "Reckon," he started, after all was said. Best to get focused on work, on anything but this, "that we all like to walk at night sometimes, Catch." The water was ignored, though his flask was raised to indicate that, no, no, he was quite alright. He brought it to his lips. "You can tell us all about what you saw. Been a few fires lately, though, not just that one. isn't that right, Eddington?"
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