Mysterious Killer
Established
Roleplay posts: 15 
Registered: Apr 29, 2015 15:31:33 GMT -8
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Post by Mysterious Killer on May 7, 2015 6:40:56 GMT -8
Nestled in a row of middle-class homes, the well-to-do Felhurss family has owned their house for at least a year before the present day. It is styled traditionally, with a stone foundation and a support made of strong wooden beams that could be seen on the outside; separating the white-painted stone that opened into an archway leading to a front door. The house has two floors, with the second floor wall featuring two windows on each side of the house. At the rear of the house, a rarely used back door leads into a small garden of flowers and grass; surrounded by tall, iron-fence walls topped by spikes.
The Felhurss home was purchased when their leading male, a business man known as Richard, made bounds and leaps in his trading of goods between New Brimiarde and Stonevale. Though suspected of rather mild underhanded activity, the Felhurss family has been generally well-liked for donating to charitable causes and lowering prices for basic necessities such as meat.
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Mysterious Killer
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Registered: Apr 29, 2015 15:31:33 GMT -8
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Post by Mysterious Killer on May 7, 2015 6:50:07 GMT -8
The sounds and shouts of alarm rang out through the night. Any curious neighbour would soon see the street filled with a dozen guards, focused around the Felhurss family property. Doors were opened, a squad of men entered and a further two remained outside to guard the front entrance.
For New Brimiarde, the evening just got a lot more interesting. Though not yet midnight, the entire street was abuzz and unable to sleep. The whispers of murder passed from home to home like a breeze and children were locked in their rooms and windows barred. A terrible crime had been committed and for many sleep would no longer be an option as the investigation began.
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The murder scene covered the entire house. The sitting room, the master bedroom and the daughter's room each contained a corpse. The father in the first, the mother in the second and a young woman in the last. In each case, their throat had been slit and the body left to crumple; with a small pool of blood gathered around the neck. There had been no signs of struggle, no forced entry and no commotion was heard. Yet the murder weapon lay dropped in the dining room hall that sat in the centre of the house, tossed by the door that led to the stairs.
Several guards searched the house to try and find clues.
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Izsendal
Established
Roleplay posts: 23 
Age: 32
Physical Description: Izzy might be described as the hypothetical love child of a rocky mountain range and a proud oak: Tall, corded, and difficult to knock down without specialized equipment. Years of adventure and travel have sculpted what was once a fresh-faced village girl with a heart full of hopes and dreams into a muscular, seasoned warrior with skin more prone to burn and bruise than tan and mahogany-hued eyes attuned to potential threats and easy sources of booze money.
The golden-maned figure of amazonian stature often holds an open, strong posture (until she starts drinking) and a measured expression (until she wishes she were drinking) that appropriately compliments a body that has seen its share of tumbles and scrapes. At nearly six feet tall, one would be forgiven for simply assuming she was born with the body type fit for retrieving trinkets from dangerous dungeons and escorting caravans for embarrassingly low pay. On the other hand, what was once a tidy and well-maintained shock of blonde hair has long since transformed into an outright mane, kept in check only by virtue of braids, braids, and more braids for good measure.
Though certainly not the strongest woman in most lands she visits - or even the occasional bar she finds herself in - Izzy is no slouch in posture nor musculature. Modestly wide shoulders lead to strong arms accustomed to bearing blows behind a shield and even stronger legs, doubly accustomed to carrying the rest of the mercenary out of harm's way when the tables have turned on her.
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Clothes and Equipment: Ever the adventure-ready soul, Izzy can often be found in a compliment of leathers and metal meant to allow some protection while still allowing a high degree of mobility. In essence, what she wears is little more than a segmented set of leather with tactically-placed metal plates that keep her from sudden death should she catch a perfectly timed swing to the chest, but it's hardly thick enough to stand up to anything else.
Sturdy boots, a reasonable armguard on her shield arm, and other wartime accoutrements are all well and sensible, but she has indulged in an adventurer's egotistical cape, though hers is old, tattered, bloodstained, and barely reaches past her knees in its crimson glory, held in place across her collarbone with an obnoxiously well-polished golden clasp depicting a bird of prey in flight.
For taking care of what armor cannot, she arms herself with a small shield and a long-handled flanged mace, both of which have seen enough to earn their retirement, but still inexplicable hang from her person wherever she goes.
When field work looms, Izzy prepares a usual compliment of travel gear: Rucksack, adventuring supplies, rations, bedroll, and the like, and might bother to work a dagger into the back of her boot, but she seems to prefer traveling light when at all possible.
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Player's online availability : Sporadically through the week, unavailable most Saturdays (GMT -6)
Registered: May 6, 2015 23:40:36 GMT -8
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Post by Izsendal on May 15, 2015 15:43:57 GMT -8
"This seems to be the place." There's no telling how many days have passed since the grisly murder in the Felhurss house, but Izsendal - along with two rubes she's dragged along for the ride - stands on the street outside of the manor in question, facing the front door with a quiet air of hesitation. Be it fear of finding a murderer still at home or a lack of confidence in investigative ability, she mulls around and stalls for time by squinting at a piece of paper she clutches in her only free hand. Coincidentally, her other arm is busy keeping an oddly light woman aloft and off of the ground below; Izzy's even gone to the length of giving Frieda the cloak off of her own back. With the rain still pelting everyone too thick to find their way indoors, an uncanny resemblance to a soaked dog is becoming more obvious by the moment. How her purloined paper hasn't disintegrated yet is anyone's guess. Scanning the page again, Izzy mumbles just loud enough to be heard over the distant rumble of thunder, "Triple-homicide, somethin'...hmm hmm...officials and investigators...witnesses should make statements. Not much on here about rewards. Damn." Offering the bulletin to Silas for the sake of his sanity, the blonde gestures vaguely at the home. "Guess we'll just 'ave to get details from the guards workin' the case and see what's left to pick up on." |
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Silas
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 255
Age: 26
Physical Description: 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, with a lean and muscular build. One with experience would tell that Silas is a mercenary, yet he has very few scars. Over all he is a handsome man.
His hair is dirty blond and has recently grown nearly to his shoulders. A coarse scruff lines his strong chin telling of recent time spent traveling.
Clothes and Equipment: Weapons: Hunting knife, spear
Registered: Apr 16, 2015 6:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Silas on May 15, 2015 17:22:35 GMT -8
The lack of reward on the paper was discouraging, but Silas was here for more then just money. Starting a mercenary band had been his ambition for years now. He was hoping to see the women in action in order to gauge her head smashing abilities and exquisite leadership qualities. Seeing Frieda wrapped in the cloak Silas wondered what she was doing here. Perhaps she was romancing the blond, though this was the strangest date Silas had seen, or maybe this is what Frieda was getting paid for. Curiously, "What brought you out into the rain, Frieda?" He asked. "I didn't think you were the murder investigating type."
Silas hen realized he didn't know the blonds name yet. "Where are my manners." Silas said with his mischievous grin on. "I should offer the lady my hat." He took his hat off and offered it to the blond with a playful, but mock, bow. "I never caught your name."
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Foechuckle
Established
Roleplay posts: 23
Age: Forever in Flux
Physical Description: Race: Doppelganger; commonly known as Facestealer
In Natural Form
Gender: Technically none - uses male pronouns
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 80 lbs
Body Type: Abnormally thin
Skin Color: Grey
Hair Color: None
Eye Color: Bright yellow
Foechuckle has four 'default faces' that he uses day to day, two males and two female. Each 'model' has it's own name: Niklas, Felix, Nadine, and Frieda.
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Clothes and Equipment: Generally wears fashionable, yet loosely fitted, clothing. Anything easy to change shape in. Often pairs muted earth tones with one extremely vibrant accent - typically in the shoes.
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Registered: May 12, 2015 6:55:44 GMT -8
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Post by Foechuckle on May 15, 2015 17:32:03 GMT -8
Frieda had taken a comfortable spot in Izzy's arms as they traveled, lightly and contently being carried. Foechuckle was pleased that this new mode of transportation was keeping her bright seafoam boots from getting muddy. They, along with the entirety of her pants were soaked, but her hair and blouse was kept mostly dry by the amazonian woman's cloak.
"I can't particularly say I am," She answered over the rain, pushing the cloak back a bit to look at Silas. Her irises wobbled slightly upon eye contact, those Facestealer instincts still wanting to morph. "But it's not like I had much better to do with my time. Besides, I have very good vision. Maybe I could actually prove helpful." She hummed, looking back towards the house. It was true about the vision - Facestealer eyes could see with near perfect clarity in darkness.
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Silas
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 255
Age: 26
Physical Description: 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, with a lean and muscular build. One with experience would tell that Silas is a mercenary, yet he has very few scars. Over all he is a handsome man.
His hair is dirty blond and has recently grown nearly to his shoulders. A coarse scruff lines his strong chin telling of recent time spent traveling.
Clothes and Equipment: Weapons: Hunting knife, spear
Registered: Apr 16, 2015 6:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Silas on May 18, 2015 12:11:56 GMT -8
"Doesn't look like anyone is here." Silas said drearily. "I am going back to the inn to dry my hat!"
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Mysterious Killer
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Registered: Apr 29, 2015 15:31:33 GMT -8
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Post by Mysterious Killer on May 18, 2015 12:35:29 GMT -8
The front door opened and a man stepped out, a small crate held in his arms that were filled with silvers and gold coins. He had a roasted chicken leg between his teeth and he was small and rat-like, with large spectacles on his face. When he finally looked up and saw the three standing there, he all but shrieked and tripped over himself in an attempt to get back in the house and push the door shut behind him.
He probably wasn't meant to be there. (Sorry I've had a bad few days.)
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Silas
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 255
Age: 26
Physical Description: 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, with a lean and muscular build. One with experience would tell that Silas is a mercenary, yet he has very few scars. Over all he is a handsome man.
His hair is dirty blond and has recently grown nearly to his shoulders. A coarse scruff lines his strong chin telling of recent time spent traveling.
Clothes and Equipment: Weapons: Hunting knife, spear
Registered: Apr 16, 2015 6:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Silas on May 18, 2015 13:44:45 GMT -8
Just as Silas tried to leave the man, who looked to be a looter, popped out of the house. Feeling excitement starting Silas whooped, "Someone is there! Go in the front, I'll go around back." With that he ran off around the house.
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Silas
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 255
Age: 26
Physical Description: 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, with a lean and muscular build. One with experience would tell that Silas is a mercenary, yet he has very few scars. Over all he is a handsome man.
His hair is dirty blond and has recently grown nearly to his shoulders. A coarse scruff lines his strong chin telling of recent time spent traveling.
Clothes and Equipment: Weapons: Hunting knife, spear
Registered: Apr 16, 2015 6:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Silas on May 20, 2015 6:49:26 GMT -8
(I'm going to be posting back as the Jovial Jester as well, assuming I make it back tonight or in the morning.)
Silas, a little boozy and stimulated by all the gold the man had been carrying, kicked down the back door in his haste and drew his knife as he entered. He entered into a kitchen. There were two door and no looter in sight. Silas stopped and listened for movement. An house like this was bound to have creaky boards and Silas suspected the thief would have frozen when the door smashed open...perhaps.
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Izsendal
Established
Roleplay posts: 23
Age: 32
Physical Description: Izzy might be described as the hypothetical love child of a rocky mountain range and a proud oak: Tall, corded, and difficult to knock down without specialized equipment. Years of adventure and travel have sculpted what was once a fresh-faced village girl with a heart full of hopes and dreams into a muscular, seasoned warrior with skin more prone to burn and bruise than tan and mahogany-hued eyes attuned to potential threats and easy sources of booze money.
The golden-maned figure of amazonian stature often holds an open, strong posture (until she starts drinking) and a measured expression (until she wishes she were drinking) that appropriately compliments a body that has seen its share of tumbles and scrapes. At nearly six feet tall, one would be forgiven for simply assuming she was born with the body type fit for retrieving trinkets from dangerous dungeons and escorting caravans for embarrassingly low pay. On the other hand, what was once a tidy and well-maintained shock of blonde hair has long since transformed into an outright mane, kept in check only by virtue of braids, braids, and more braids for good measure.
Though certainly not the strongest woman in most lands she visits - or even the occasional bar she finds herself in - Izzy is no slouch in posture nor musculature. Modestly wide shoulders lead to strong arms accustomed to bearing blows behind a shield and even stronger legs, doubly accustomed to carrying the rest of the mercenary out of harm's way when the tables have turned on her.
_____________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Ever the adventure-ready soul, Izzy can often be found in a compliment of leathers and metal meant to allow some protection while still allowing a high degree of mobility. In essence, what she wears is little more than a segmented set of leather with tactically-placed metal plates that keep her from sudden death should she catch a perfectly timed swing to the chest, but it's hardly thick enough to stand up to anything else.
Sturdy boots, a reasonable armguard on her shield arm, and other wartime accoutrements are all well and sensible, but she has indulged in an adventurer's egotistical cape, though hers is old, tattered, bloodstained, and barely reaches past her knees in its crimson glory, held in place across her collarbone with an obnoxiously well-polished golden clasp depicting a bird of prey in flight.
For taking care of what armor cannot, she arms herself with a small shield and a long-handled flanged mace, both of which have seen enough to earn their retirement, but still inexplicable hang from her person wherever she goes.
When field work looms, Izzy prepares a usual compliment of travel gear: Rucksack, adventuring supplies, rations, bedroll, and the like, and might bother to work a dagger into the back of her boot, but she seems to prefer traveling light when at all possible.
_____________________________
Player's online availability : Sporadically through the week, unavailable most Saturdays (GMT -6)
Registered: May 6, 2015 23:40:36 GMT -8
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Post by Izsendal on May 20, 2015 9:59:42 GMT -8
"Oi!"
Izzy is forced to do something her father would probably have never encouraged: Putting down a shapeshifter she intends to have her face stolen by. Terrible parental advice, but one has to stick to their guns. At least it's for a good cause and the blonde kicks into the only sort of action she knows by patting Frieda's shoulder with one hand while the other works at producing her mace from her waistline, much to the chagrin of most local lawmakers.
Never one to waste time with knocking and waiting, she's already trying to shoulder the door open with the assumption someone would be trying to hold it shut. Home invasions are her specialty!
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Mysterious Killer
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Registered: Apr 29, 2015 15:31:33 GMT -8
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Post by Mysterious Killer on May 21, 2015 8:14:25 GMT -8
Indeed, Izsendal had the right of it. While Silas kicked in the back door, the reason he could find no-one there had to do simply with the fact that the small, strange man was trying to hold the front door closed. Of course, one good shoulder shove by the large woman was enough to bust it down and throw him back into the hallway, where he yelped and huddled up into a ball by the stairs.
"Don't hurt me! I'm just a poor accountant!" He squeaked, with a pile of gold and silver coins lying on the ground around him. "I'm innocent! Innocent, I tell you!"
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Silas
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 255
Age: 26
Physical Description: 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, with a lean and muscular build. One with experience would tell that Silas is a mercenary, yet he has very few scars. Over all he is a handsome man.
His hair is dirty blond and has recently grown nearly to his shoulders. A coarse scruff lines his strong chin telling of recent time spent traveling.
Clothes and Equipment: Weapons: Hunting knife, spear
Registered: Apr 16, 2015 6:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Silas on May 21, 2015 14:17:38 GMT -8
Hearing the door crash in up front Silas darted through the kitchen into the hall. There he found the thief and Izsendal by the stairs. "Innocent of what?" Silas asked as he approached. "Looks to me like we caught you red handed." Silas squatted in front of the mousey man and picked up the dropped chicken leg. He took a bite as he raised his knife to point at the man. "Why'd you kill them?" Silas didn't care that his accusation was obviously false sense the people had been killed days ago. He was attempting to frighten the man and hopefully make him more compliant.
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Mysterious Killer
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Registered: Apr 29, 2015 15:31:33 GMT -8
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Post by Mysterious Killer on May 25, 2015 12:35:48 GMT -8
"Kill them? Kill who? I've not killed anyone! I don't have the heart, good sir. Please lower the knife and I'll give you half of all I've collected!" The man continued, trying to push himself back away from the knife. Alas, the stairs were in his way and he could only move an inch.
"I'm a good man! I'm never harmed a fly!"
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Izsendal
Established
Roleplay posts: 23
Age: 32
Physical Description: Izzy might be described as the hypothetical love child of a rocky mountain range and a proud oak: Tall, corded, and difficult to knock down without specialized equipment. Years of adventure and travel have sculpted what was once a fresh-faced village girl with a heart full of hopes and dreams into a muscular, seasoned warrior with skin more prone to burn and bruise than tan and mahogany-hued eyes attuned to potential threats and easy sources of booze money.
The golden-maned figure of amazonian stature often holds an open, strong posture (until she starts drinking) and a measured expression (until she wishes she were drinking) that appropriately compliments a body that has seen its share of tumbles and scrapes. At nearly six feet tall, one would be forgiven for simply assuming she was born with the body type fit for retrieving trinkets from dangerous dungeons and escorting caravans for embarrassingly low pay. On the other hand, what was once a tidy and well-maintained shock of blonde hair has long since transformed into an outright mane, kept in check only by virtue of braids, braids, and more braids for good measure.
Though certainly not the strongest woman in most lands she visits - or even the occasional bar she finds herself in - Izzy is no slouch in posture nor musculature. Modestly wide shoulders lead to strong arms accustomed to bearing blows behind a shield and even stronger legs, doubly accustomed to carrying the rest of the mercenary out of harm's way when the tables have turned on her.
_____________________________
Clothes and Equipment: Ever the adventure-ready soul, Izzy can often be found in a compliment of leathers and metal meant to allow some protection while still allowing a high degree of mobility. In essence, what she wears is little more than a segmented set of leather with tactically-placed metal plates that keep her from sudden death should she catch a perfectly timed swing to the chest, but it's hardly thick enough to stand up to anything else.
Sturdy boots, a reasonable armguard on her shield arm, and other wartime accoutrements are all well and sensible, but she has indulged in an adventurer's egotistical cape, though hers is old, tattered, bloodstained, and barely reaches past her knees in its crimson glory, held in place across her collarbone with an obnoxiously well-polished golden clasp depicting a bird of prey in flight.
For taking care of what armor cannot, she arms herself with a small shield and a long-handled flanged mace, both of which have seen enough to earn their retirement, but still inexplicable hang from her person wherever she goes.
When field work looms, Izzy prepares a usual compliment of travel gear: Rucksack, adventuring supplies, rations, bedroll, and the like, and might bother to work a dagger into the back of her boot, but she seems to prefer traveling light when at all possible.
_____________________________
Player's online availability : Sporadically through the week, unavailable most Saturdays (GMT -6)
Registered: May 6, 2015 23:40:36 GMT -8
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Post by Izsendal on May 25, 2015 17:40:52 GMT -8
The bullheaded blonde shakes off her door-checking arm (and shoulder, of course) with a slight grunt and a masked wince. She'll probably feel that one in the morning. Note to self: Invent bicep armor, then craft and wear it.
"Accounting after people've passed, I see. Last time I was accountin' for the deceased, I called it lootin'. Semantics, though," she concedes with a twirl of her mace-bearing hand, bringing the weapon around to use as a makeshift cane, heavy head resting against the home's floor and surely gouging up a thin layer of wood that would bring a tear to the eye of even the most steely-hearted realtor.
"How's the ol' pillage-from-a-murdered-family game workin' out for you? Seems pretty easy. You 'ave much competition in your sector?"
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Mysterious Killer
Established
Roleplay posts: 15
Registered: Apr 29, 2015 15:31:33 GMT -8
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Post by Mysterious Killer on May 29, 2015 6:57:13 GMT -8
"Pillaging? Looting?!" He squeaked, almost angrily. "I'm collecting what I am rightly owed! I was their accountant in life, see, and they never once paid me a single coin! Not once! Bullied, locked away in a study and fed food barely decent enough to pass for edible in a roadside inn I was!"
He turned over, attempting to gather up the spilled coin. "Greedy and nasty they were. Good riddance I say, though the daughter was lovely and kind." He paused a moment and sighed. "Shame about her."
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