Truth and Consequences

Truth and Consequences

Postby Cinnabar » Thu Oct 17, 2013 11:03 am

The men and women of the Myrkentown Constabulary are, on the whole, stoic sorts; Myrken Wood itself has, by its history, bred an attitude of stubborn resilience in the face of the strange and the horrific, verging on bloodymindedness at times.

The Lady's reign has been a trying time for the rank-and-file, certainly since various of the commanding officers started wearing the vine-and-tiara badge that marked them as one of hers. These commanders - the Chief Constables of Streets and Detectives, various of their Captains - had instructed the Constabulary to allow the Civils to go about their work, and the Constables had grudgingly complied. When the time had come - when black-coated Militia troops had started taking back the town district by district the grey tunics of the Constabulary had stepped aside, letting the Marshall sweep the streets clean of the Lady's red-and-gold.

Within the Constabulary there had been a simultaneous spate of jammed locks, particularly where senior officers were present - some unable to leave their offices, others embarrassingly trapped within holding cells meant to contain drunks and petty criminals. In the days that followed a great many of them found the ordeal such a strain upon their nerves that they were quite insistently relieved of their duties, sent home to rest and convalesce. Indefinitely.

For their successors there remains the matter of aftermath. The Foundation did a lot of good for Myrkentown, that couldn't be denied - homes for the indigent, food for the hungry, public works to provide employment for those needing it - but the excesses of those last few weeks were fresh in the public's memory, beatings and bruises and broken bones more vivid by far than acts of gentle philanthropy. Even with the Lady dead there remain grievances unsatisfied, wounds that will fester if left untended.

Already there have been acts - vicious, angry, brutal acts of vigilanteism and vengeance, former Civil Constables assaulted or worse. Agents of the Lady's will, the Vice-Governor's bully-boys, many of them from good families, respectable families who did well under Rhaena Burnie's rule. Already there is a grumbling, an undercurrent of anger unvented, resentment of those who have perpetrated outrages but still walk free, and it must be addressed.

Justice must be seen to be done.

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Re: Truth and Consequences

Postby Treadwell » Thu Oct 17, 2013 1:06 pm

Notices thrown up around town are certainly gaining a lot of notice, lately. It should be safe to think that the average Myrkener has, at least, learned a thing or two about reading a little better these recent months.

One particular Myrkener, by transplant since not by birth, finds himself wobbling into the Constabulary headquarters, a looming sphere and shadow of black (save his billowy white beard) from hat to cloak to suit to gloves to boots. A thump of his cane and a grunted "Mmph?" of breath would signal his arrival as he peers about for what might pass for a receptionist of sorts.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Truth and Consequences

Postby Rance » Thu Oct 17, 2013 1:38 pm

At the Constabulary, awaiting her opportunity to speak, she remained silent.

Had she talent of hand or letters to write Janna Haytham, she might have. Instead, in a sack dress with her finest shoes, the old woman sat on the long wooden benches next to men with long wooden faces waiting to say their piece. In all her years she'd never the necessity to grace the Constabulary with her presence -- they'd always been such stoic sorts, soldiers who had no wherewithal to be soldiers, men who sought to keep the order with their muscles and their leering eyes.

She'd bound up her white hair in a simple bun, an iron thing that neither wind nor rain could stir from its spiral. The pewter trinket clasped in her age-wearied palm cut into her flesh as though her skin might be trepanned and she could let all the lead out from her veins.

It had a metal taste, regret. Shame, too. Wore on her like so many wet clothes.

When she stood before the younger lass receiving the self-proclaimed witnesses, all bombastic Myrkeners ready to blame the dead Lady for their ills, she opened her fingers and let the tiara-and-vine brooch tumble out onto the oaken bureau. She turned her head to the hefty man bent over his sturdy cane. Councilor Treadwell, she knew -- a tax-collector, an acting governor, a symbol.

The wrinkles on the elderly woman's face had never been more pronounced.

"I come as a witness to acts perpetrated by the dissolved Civil Constabulary. My name is Dame de Lanz," she said to the girl marking names. "I would very much like to turn in my ashplant."
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Re: Truth and Consequences

Postby Cinnabar » Fri Oct 18, 2013 7:18 am

The Constabulary are very keen on procedure, on protocol, on doing things by the book. A certain quantity of paperwork is involved, a certain amount of filing of reports and recording of facts.

The duty sergeant on the desk is younger than Dame de Lanz, younger than Aloisius Treadwell, but that is not to say that she is by any means decorative or inexperienced; she knows Myrken's streets, has patrolled them with her fellow Constables and dealt with her share of trouble. When the old lady approaches the desk the first assumption is that she is here as a witness, or a victim, or relative of a victim; it's only when the brooch clatters onto the desk in front of her that the Constable realises her mistake, and features that had been politely sympathetic subtly shifted to something more stern, disapproving.

Still, there are procedures to be followed, formalities to be observed; a line inscribed in the visitors' ledger, the tome turned about so that Dame de Lanz might read her own name as the latest entry; a quill is offered for her to take, and an ink-darkened finger indicates the space beside it.

"Your mark here, please, and then that line there." A nod for the queue of townsfolk waiting to give statements, features etched with anger, with anxiety and weariness. "And take that with you." A curt nod for the dead Lady's sigil in sweat-tarnished pewter.

Only once the lady has been signed in does the desk sergeant turn her attention to the Councillor - beg pardon, the Acting Governor, and by the time he's lumbered over to the counter she has the ledger and quill ready for him, fingertip pointing out where she needs him to sign.

"Counci- beg pardon, Acting Governor. What can I do for you?"
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Re: Truth and Consequences

Postby Treadwell » Fri Oct 18, 2013 2:30 pm

A glance is given for the Dame nearby, and then back to the attendant with a grunt and a huff.

"A simple matter, really." A wave at the document, the begging for a signature. "I'm not here to testify one way or the other, mmph mmph. I'm merely here to discuss, I suppose, with whomever is currently over the Constabulary the procedures, plans, proposals, hmph, and proper preparations for this whole messy affair."

A nod, a thump of the cane.

"Now, would you need a signature of my arrival, hmm hmm, simply for that small request?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Truth and Consequences

Postby Cinnabar » Sat Oct 19, 2013 2:49 am

The Acting Governor explains his reasons for being here, and the desk sergeant nods politely.

"That'd be the Chief Constables, sir. Are they expecting you?" The Acting Governor's vagueness doesn't bode well, but it's worth asking nonetheless.

"There may be a bit of a wait if not; we've had some reorganising just recently." A wry twist of the mouth and slight lift of brows makes it clear that this is a euphemism of sorts; the commanders of the Constabulary were good men and women, respected, and there is a certain sensitivity required in replacing those who found themselves compromised by Rhaena Burnie's interference. "The new commanding officers are still settling into their roles, in addition to organising a response to recent events, and quite busy as a result."

In the meantime she taps a fingertip on the ledger, summoning an apologetic smile for the inconvenience.

"Whatever the case, sir, if you're here on official business we'll need you to sign in. Procedure, I'm afraid."
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Re: Truth and Consequences

Postby Treadwell » Sat Oct 19, 2013 11:19 am

Treadwell nods and gives a breathy mmph. Quill is taken in his left hand, dipped into ink after to be scrawled on the line indicated. It's reasonable enough to manage Aloisius H. Treadwell from the script, at least.

"At this moment, no; I've no formal, standing appointment, mmph mmph."

The quill is set aside.

"I can stay a short while, hmm hmm. Have you a chair or bench somewhere suitable to wait?"

Another brief look is given to the Dame who'd just come into the assembly immediately after him. Then, back to the sergeant, "Do seat the Dame here first, hmm hmm? I can wait standing for a short time if I must."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Truth and Consequences

Postby Tolleson » Thu Oct 24, 2013 11:37 am

The Constabulary certainly had their work cut out for them, as did the Inquisitors, what was left of them. But with Myrken so fractured and the duties of the remaining regime somewhat uncertain there was room for error either intentional or accidental. Certainly she of all people, having filled the position, if not the title, left by the Man in White, could understand mistakes made for lack of experience in a position. And many in the course of several days had been demoted, promoted, or had positions that simply vanished. So it should not be surprising that a closer alliance is what she seeks, a finer net through which, between their two forces the details will not escape.

It is likely that the Inquisitory itself had few available to staff the building, let alone investigate the increasingly numerous mysteries sprouting in Myrken. But still, Genny would find time to come here. This was important.

While her dress is certainly clean, her posture straight, and her hair tightly braided, she is far from the visage of a lady so common in Rhaena’s Myrken. Charcoal colored, floor length and adorned with nothing but a strict line of numerous, small buttons from the nape of her neck to the hem at her ankles, it is a collected, antiseptic look.

Perhaps she is completely overlooked, as she enters behind the wall of a man, the acting governor, Treadwell. Her steps are slow, measured and taken with an extraordinary amount of care. It is because of this that it takes her some time to arrive at the desk just as the acting governor leaves it.

All too happy to sign in, she offers a gentle smile conveying, ‘hello’ to the portly politician before returning her attention to the duty sergeant. In attire she is plain and cold but her face is anything but, offering a gracious smile and a sympathetic tone. Of late, so many people had demands, after all.

“Pardon me, I uh realize t-this is a bit unusual, but perhaps... I believe t-there may be a standing invitation for appointments of… Inquisitors to see the Chief. May I?”
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