Midnight Oils and Owls

3 Yaris 2718

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 13
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
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Writer: Iz

Thu Oct 11, 2018 5:11 pm

3 Yaris 2718, Vienda

Fellix Malanastre lit a cigarette with a word, the orange light briefly illuminating his face. Night shift. Support for an Investigator, which probably meant a touch of heavy work. Fellix didn’t mind, but a little ritual to steady the hand wasn’t out of place. Yaris hadn’t been shy about delivering the heat on time, but the sun had gone down and the shadows from the buildings had blanketed everything and the night was a little cooler. It was here at the side entrance of headquarters that Fellix waited for his Investigator.

“Malanastre, you’re with Valentin tonight.”

“No kidding,” Fellix had responded, amused. They’d known of each other in school. If Fellix remembered correctly, Rhys Valentin was weird. Fellix could do weird. He also remembered that it had taken the kid only two years to blaze into Investigations - an admirable feat, especially considering D’Arthe’s open dislike of Valentin. Fellix was disliked by most of his superiors in a lukewarm and equal measure, but the fixated loathing from someone of the scale of Captain D’Arthe was not enviable.

Fellix had only skimmed the orders, but he knew enough about what they were doing. Opium. Finding it, confiscating it, discouraging the dealers. It was a funny thing to say, that Fellix didn’t care what other people did being a Seventen and all, but his personal views had little to do with following orders. If opium was illegal, if its sale financed the uprisings, if it made humans and wicks self-destruct their already challenging existence, then yea, he’d back up Rhys Valentin.

“Evenin’, uncle,” he said when Rhys arrived, having a play at what civs called them. Rhys was a ticking tree of a galdor and with his coloring he cut an impressive figure in the lamp light.

"The time treating you fine?"

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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 262
Joined: Sun Jul 08, 2018 5:06 pm
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Race: Wick
Location: Vienda
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Fri Oct 26, 2018 12:52 pm

3rd of Yaris, 2718
BELOW HOME for DSOH | A LATER HOUSE THAN USUAL
"I don't clocking need Patrol backup tonight. Tocks." The young Sergeant hissed while staring down at the orders on his desk, sifting through the assigned names and glaring at Captain D'Arthe's signature on every sheet of it. He tossed them down with a grunt, preferring a shakedown to be with his team, but aware that these particular targets were dangerous. As much as the Investigative Division had been trained just like any other Seventen in Numbrey, their focus upon graduation had been much more intellectual than physical, and as much as Rhys was a far better melee combatant instead of a sorcerous one, he knew his other strengths were not necessarily strategic in nature when it came to combat. That was where the edge of Patrol Division came in, and their experienced footwork was exactly what would be needed this evening.

Perhaps it was just the glare of Damen's signature, of Charity's father's shadow looming over him all over again in life, that soured his mood.

Pushing away the thoughts and emotions that rose to the surface of his thoughts, writhing and full of sharp teeth in the back of his mind, Rhys refused to give them breath. With a sigh, he adjusted his coat and ran fingers over the sash of his uniform, chewing the inside of his cheek as he ran over the plans and made his way out of his office, walking down the stairs next to Constable Potiphar with Constable Hours trailing behind him. Their Ensigns tonight were all patties, four of them to be exact, and there would be extra support on chroven should Hours request them if everything went sideways.

Once outside, the other uniformed galdori were waiting. Rhys understood the nature of his rank put him in charge, with Pots his second. Hours had seniority above his partner, but she would simply be tucking herself away somewhere as usual and magically maintaining their communication while attempting to keep an eye on the situation. Her role was crucial, and the young Valentin had learned quickly to trust the woman's magical abilities with his life.

Uncle.

Had it been a social gathering, the blond Sergeant would have grinned. He smirked, recognizing Fellix as a classmate from Brunnhold as well as from their two years at Numbrey, "Oh, Good Lady, it's good to have a familiar face from the patties tonight, Malanastre." He chuckled, never one to shy away from breaking the tension in a high-stakes situation with his sounds of amusement, "Time's been strange, to be honest."

Pots sniggered, perhaps far too aware of Rhys' current personal life than he should be, but being the Sergeant's partner on the job meant he knew more than anyone else. Anyone else except Charity D'Arthe.

"But the Good Lady is wise, and all things will unfold in her timing as they should." The young Valentin repeated some proverb of the Everine from his school days attending the Church of the Moon. Had he been since moving back to Vienda? No. What did Alioe care about him, anyway?

"Besides the point, though. That. Me. Everyone's read the brief, yes? Any questions, boys and girls?"
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Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 13
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Iz

Mon Oct 29, 2018 9:22 pm

Fellix nodded to Pots and Hours in greeting, and smiled at Valentin, clapping him on the back.

"No questions, sir," he smiled. "Lovely night for tidying up. That right, you lot?"

Fellix snapped his fingers at the other three from Patrol and they scoffed good-naturedly, (Malanastre wasn't in any kind of command), but they did provide Constable Valentin with their affirmatives as well.

In the heat and in anticipation of anything banjaxed that might come their way on a moon-night, Fellix undid his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. It was rare and strange to be in uniform and on foot; far more natural to fill the street between two chroves. But chroves were big and the plan was for something a bit more subtle. This was Investigations' show and the game was finesse.

"Thinking we'll want two patties to split off now and take the long way around," he suggested to Rhys. "That'll make our numbers thinner to anyone who might see us coming and back exits will be covered."

He nodded towards two of the other Patrol, partners Callantio and Falmartin, who seemed to agree. Callantio, she was built sturdy and Falmartin had been into mountain climbing in school.
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Rhys Valentin
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Race: Wick
Location: Vienda
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Tue Oct 30, 2018 12:02 am

Rhys had read all their files, even if they'd come across his desk so very late this afternoon because he was quite sure Captain D'Arthe had withheld them for as long as clocking possible. He was such a petty ersehole. How did he feel about the young Valentin wearing four snaps, how did he feel every time he read the Special Enforcement Sergeant's name in the papers? He hoped he hated it. He hoped it burned. But part of him knew the man who held Charity captive like some fairytale prisoner in his tower didn't give a damn about the useless farm boy from Elmonton.

He would always be Brayde County trash. Lower galdori class.

Fellix snapped his fingers and brought the young Valentin back into focus, smirking at the way the other man played at authority. It wasn't common to see a bunch of patties on foot, but it wasn't exactly normal to be out at night like this, either.

Tonight was the night—the little abandoned paper mill on the Arova near the southern edge of the Soot District was supposedly a meeting place for the Black Hand who'd been greedily distributing Dragon's Tongue, the Hessean-produced opiate, as if they could fill the void while King's Crop dwindled. Rhys wanted to strangle them both out of existence, he wanted to wrap his bare hands around their originators and squeeze—

"Yes. Constable Hours will be tracking them. She said the best route would be to take Ash Street and cross the bridge, which should bring you around on the southern side of the factory." The Sergeant studied the pair's faces, his blue eyes as sharp as his tone, "According to my informants, there are two wick patrols, each half a house apart. If we time everything right, we should be arriving at the changing of the guard."

It would be Callantio and Falmartin's job to stop them.

"The rest of you are with me and my friend Pots here. Now, I haven't lost a squad mate yet, so you're in clockin'good hands, I promise." Couldn't say the same for Captain D'Arthe, and he knew that as a fact, but Rhys didn't dare breathe that out loud, "We're going to be traveling by boat. These Hand wicks have been holed up in an old mill for a few seasons now, and using the dock pretty regularly. I think we've got a great in there, quiet and less guarded. Surprise is going to be our advantage here, obviously."

He signaled the pair of patrol officers that it was their queue to head out, reaching to tug his pocket watch from out of his crisp green coat, beginning to walk toward the Seventen-run docks by the Arova, just a few minutes' walk from the Headquarters nestled so close to the castle itself.
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Fellix Malanastre
Posts: 13
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:12 pm
Topics: 3
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Iz

Sun Nov 11, 2018 8:38 pm

Fellix was at his best when he had something to do, and better yet when that thing to do was a new thing to do. Rarely was Fellix the kind of lad to grumble or grouse, his only bristle against taking orders were when the orders took the fun out of something. He was stout enough in a scrape, agreeable enough when civvies were being louses, and knew better than to speak too much truth to too many snaps. He was, by any measure, perfectly mediocre and reliably compliant under supervision, which, along with his general volunteerism, made him suited to this night’s errand.

The party fell out and made their way towards the docks, Fellix keeping easy stride with Valentin.

“Can’t tell if you’re being rewarded or punished,” Fellix said in a low voice with a moonlit grin. “A smart little command like this, middle of the night. Who’s idea was it to send Patrol to babysit? Not D’Arthe? I can’t remember, isn’t he your uncle?”

Fellix faked ignorance, cocking his head as if he were inquiring in polite society. But Captain D’Arthe didn’t hide his dislike and there were, hem hem, more than a few rumors. Fellix hadn’t yet seen enough violence to find himself somber preceding a touchy operation.

A modest vessel awaited them, small, maneuverable, and non-descript. Everyone knew their bit, Fellix as well. He knew to touch the moorings before stepping down, and he knew to lay hands on the rudder and make sure the oarlocks were braced. The Mona blessed the Galdori with gentle maneuvering on the Arova, but the world could be an unpredictable place and finding oneself tongue-tied, upriver and lacking an oar, well … well a lot of bad had to go happen to get to that point and so the least you’d want is to be able to steer.
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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 262
Joined: Sun Jul 08, 2018 5:06 pm
Topics: 19
Race: Wick
Location: Vienda
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Wed Nov 21, 2018 11:59 am

"Me? Well, any chance to bust some clocking opiate distributers is a good day for me. I'd say you lot are just here to keep tabs on me for your Captain, but I really hope he's not that godsbedamned petty." He probably was, but Rhys really had no interest in making too many off-hand remarks about Captain D'Arthe in the presence of Patties. He smirked, thumbing his nose for emphasis and offering a chuckle before falling quiet for their walk through the city and down to the docks.

The young Valentin was clearly excited, eager, but not in an anxious way. His motivations were his own—whatever got him into the uniform not something that he was known to speak about, considering he didn't come from expected Seventen stock among galdorkind and considering he had opposition in the ranks from even his years in Brunnhold. That opposition, Damen, was indeed one of the reasons he'd pushed himself so hard to climb the ranks, to be an exemplary officer, and to get himself noticed. His daughter, Charity, who he hadn't seen in almost a decade until that strange night in Roalis, was another.

Now more than ever, having her once again close to him instead of out of reach, lit a fire in the Sergeant that he hadn't felt in months. It was a bittersweet feeling, the realization that the young woman he'd loved since he wore the green uniform of his school days bore the burdens of addiction.

Rhys was slowly becoming aware of his helplessness to direct her choices, regardless of their shared feelings, but that pressing, crushing awareness only fueled his interests in what he could direct: the flow of opium in Vienda. Carefully, the Special Enforcement Sergeant had begun to shift his focus away from the Resistance, especially since Commander Morde had been asked to begin to pass that onto the Oculus despite his own misgivings, the heavy hand of High Judge Arazmus an uncomfortable form of motivation. The tall blond had begun to focus on the trafficking of drugs in his lovely capital because he could.

And, now, because he felt he should.

For her sake, yes, but also for everyone else he'd suddenly become so able to pick out in a crowd.

He was somewhat lost in his own head as they made it to the docks and onto their assigned little boat. It was easy enough to get settled and figure out who was doing what—a motor of any kind at this Alioe-forsaken hour was certainly not going to do them any favors. Monite was quietly spoken and a deeper, magical silence masked their slow, careful journey upriver toward the old factory-turned-hideout. There was little else to say as the moons sparkled off the water and the breeze brought the foul smog of the Soot District to their lungs.

Constable Hours took her time weaving a spell in a whisper as they neared their destination, her Clarvoyant strengths rivaled only by her Physical conversation, which she used to ask the mona to disguise their ship's approach, creating an illusion of the Arova's surface across their dark silhouette so that in their silence, they could literally come right up to the dock of the ramshackle building. Potiphar pointed to the look-outs long before the reached the salty wood, the bump of the boat barely audible beneath their shared layers of carefully cast spells.

Each of them took concentration, however, and as soon as everyone was ready, their illusory silence and disguises would dissipate like fog in the sun. Thankfully, they had cover behind fright boxes and a tall metal storage tank probably meant to hold fuel for a steamship, given the sooty residue left around its perimeter.

On the dock, a pair of wicks were playing cards by lantern light, one shirtless in the Yaris heat and the other wearing only a vest, his tattoos of waves and flowers visible in the ruddy glow of the oil-fed flame.

Rhys glanced at his squad for the evening, using hand signals to split them into three groups of two and choosing Fellix with obvious bias,

"Who wants the guards?" He grinned, inaudible behind their magical barrier.
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