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In Goblins 7 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Gahji


Today really was a good day for Gahji, and it only continued to grow more bountiful. The gods surely favoured him with opportunity today. Who would he be to reject their divine offer.

Feeling well rested he rose once again to meet the wonderful fine day. A nice pointy stick in his hand and a fresh meal hanging in his belly, Gahji steadily strolled through the underbrush with an upbeat joyful skip in his naturally cautious and quiet footwork.

He was enjoying the song played by the forest and creatures within when he noticed a disturbance in its rhythm. Reading it like a book, he carefully followed it towards the river. Stopping a fair distance away from where he heard some commotion, not knowing what dangers lay ahead, Gahji sought the safety of the trees. From his hidden vantage spot, through some parted leaves the little goblin noticed another of his kind covering a hollow log with stones and twigs before running off.

Curious he clambered down and cautiously circled the log before approaching. With no signs of traps he quickly pulled out the twigs and rocks revealing the prize inside.
Now Gahji wasn’t a completely selfish creature, and he only had two hands. Taking as many of the fish as he could comfortably carry he quickly made off leaving two behind. One slipped from his hand but he left it on the ground, in front of the hidden hide away left wide open and exposed.

This was truly a great haul. Fearful of losing it he hurried off as far as he could get. A wide toothy grin glued to his face.
Ezlan once again had found himself in a foul mood. His forced rest had left him more than restless. The only smile to touch his face was forced, deliberate and short lived. He was normally more lively after a brawl but this one felt unfinished, anticlimactic and had left him on edge.
He disliked being so easily controlled and hated his utter weakness and helplessness in the face of such powers.
His fingers fidgeted, thrumming along the tankard of ale that had since started bypassing his mug. His leg bounced on the ball of his foot as he kept looking around the room, hoping for some sort of excitement or retribution.

Eyeing Eomer, Ezlan refused to show guilt or remorse for his actions, denying any fault or blame that he should be bearing. With a wink and a nod he raised the tankard and took a heavy gulp.

Face buried behind his drink Ezlan failed to notice the “pretty enough” woman until she spoke. Taken by surprise, sputtering some ale from his mouth Ezlan slammed down his tankard. It took him a delayed moment to find himself but as soon as he did he offered the woman a seat as he dried his mouth with a loose sleeve.

“Please sit, join us.” He says politely before loudling calling for more ale.
“We might be.” He finally replies while also finding his smile.
He continued to speak as he went back to filling his mug. “Everyone is always looking for something, what are you looking for?”
There had been that all familiar tug, the soft pull, the basic automatic urge to retort and have the last say, there was something simple and primal in that need. But defiant as he was Arden didn’t, and for his reward he could hear the displeasure hidden in the silence between words as Arinne looked at him expectantly.

He continued to hold his silence and slug around in his nonchalant demeanour. The sooner this child had had her fill of amusement the sooner he could get on with his task. The withholding of information and needless critical questioning was becoming arduous and tiresome.

Arden gave no reaction to the mention of blood. Hidden beneath his facade was a frustration built from unanswered curiosities. He had questions that he would leave for time to tell rather than engaging with and trying to get answers from Arinne. So he followed along and looked no where in particular but listened to everything intently.
@One Who Tames
All good, :) thanks for the update!
I’m really enjoying this game, it’s a different character for me. I don’t mind the slow pace, I’d rather get it right than get it quick. ;)
Ascertain that everyone had the same basic founding facts and work from there, he thought to himself in the sly obvious voice that he dare not use a loud. Despite her condescension he backed his original statement one hundred percent and thought less of her for questioning it. It was important they were all on the same page. None the less, while confident in his choices, he didn’t share those thoughts. He would let the child have this one.

She was right about one thing though, he hadn’t been building the right first impression. Hell, he didn’t want to be building any impression at all, but it was clearly too late for that. ‘Idiot’ he cursed at himself.

Arinne had chosen not to answer his questions, instead turning to attacking his character with spite, stabbing at his ego. Arden defended in the only way he knew how. With nonchalant dismissal, putting up solid walls while falling into the familiar facade of not caring. It was a cold and lonely place behind that mask, a mask that fit all too well, but at least it felt safe.




Arden let his attention drift out of the room, catching the chorus of sounds that swept in as the door opened to a latecomer. He was slightly curious how Arinne would respond to that, but instead he dialled in his hearing to the different classes and lectures going on throughout the building. The gossiping of groups and the thrumming taps of boredom. He was surprised to find Arinne’s name still on the tips of many tongues even though it had been some time since she passed.

There were so many talented people here at this institution, so why were none of them here in this room? Where were the subject matter experts, the agency men or even some semi-decent investigators. Surely they could solve this in a manner of moments between human and magi resources.
Was this really the best Arinne could gather. Or did Arinne actually just care so little about this that these people would do. Arden’s self included.

As of yet he had seen little to convince him that this was a bright bunch, but then again if this was all just some small passing amusement, a means to flaunt influence and power, then even this bunch was elaborately unnecessary.

No one yet had actually questioned why they were here. Just accepting the topic as reason and playing along. Arden could almost hear the ‘groupthink’ taking over, like a new member in the room slowly growing more confident and louder. He feared with curiosity what would happen if they fell into polarisation.

Up until now Arden had been denying his own interest in this case, there were so many facets that fascinated him. New worlds of possibilities were opening up to him as he sat there in disengaged silence. While everyone focused on the present he fell back into the past.
The original ripper could have in fact been targeting those very same organs, only then using the brutal murders and attacks of the time as a coverup for the true motive. The theft of organ parts was widely dismissed as rumour and fears levied by the tabloids, but that could have been a coverup.

To what ends would that original endeavour have met, was it thwarted in secrecy. Was there an investigation. Did the killer or killers succeed. (Arden wasn’t going to rule out a group just yet. For either instance.)
Arden didn’t understand enough about magic to grasp why or if female organs would be chosen over males. Perhaps in the past it would have been more convenient at the time, to hide amongst the many attacks already happening, and now it was just a notion to copy. The fact the victims were left to be found was the lure on the line for him.

With access to people’s thoughts Arden had long since developed a deep interest in psychology, evolutionary in particular. So after separating his thoughts from the situation at hand with Arinne and the others, he became caught up in the thoughts of why. Why not hide the bodies. Why pick a place guaranteed to grab media attention. Why the effort for precision.
Sure he could draw conclusions, but enough of them were being thrown around already.

While he didn’t yet know what they were going to be tasked with, Arden decided he would try a bit harder to play along. At the very least to quell his own curiosities. So he continued to sit there in his cold silence, giving no one nothing and hoping someone would provide some noteworthy information or ideas soon.
@VitaVitaAR

So is there like a magi police force or council?
An organisation that deals with the secrecy of magic?
I know it’s been touched on but I just can’t recall the details.

Who usually punishes naughty mages?

Also is there record keeping of all events, people and things of note throughout history?
@VitaVitaAR
Did I miss the part that said the organs were missing?
That makes it seem more like a medical issue than a string of murders. 🤔
Bad enough there’s no incisions or cuts.

More details pretty please 😁🙏
Arden’s patron had drilled into him much information on the Ar-Rynesarte family, the tower and all relevant magi happenings, especially the Whitechapel murders. Always so eager to please and impress in hopes of raising their own stature, they had even done their own extra research.

They had told Arden what to say and what not to say. How to say it and even when. But as those arrogant blue eyes locked on to him, and refused to sway even as he looked away and squirmed under their weight, an ember of defiance blossomed into a small flame. Arden mumbled to himself under his breath but his soft words were clear in everyone’s ears.

“Jack the Ripper 2019, it’s unwise to get caught up in the media hype. Too little information, on this and the original to assume a connection or look for patterns. Even using the name Jack insinuates a male and then we start calling the killer ‘he’.”

Arden pauses and let’s that sink in. Silently pointing out to all that Arinne had already been assuming the killers gender.

“In a time where attacks on women is far less prevalent and common, this person or people’s actions will stand out more. Narrowed down even further by their magical ability.
The attacks have not reportedly shown signs of violence, struggle, intense emotional outbursts or any form of sexualisation, all factors connecting the Whitechapel murders of the late eighteen eighties and early nineties.”


He weaved a subtle tone of smugness through his voice, just enough to be registered but not prominent enough to know if it was there. Not only could he manipulate his voice to appease people, but also the opposite. He did this all whilst never making eye contact, constantly peering down and away to his left at nothing in particular. Arms folded across his chest as he seemingly slouched even further into his chair.

“The main similarity is the removal of the organs, likely a play on their innate ability. The fact they are all women is probably just a nice media grab. Or a message. The real question is, why are you so heavily interested? It can’t be the first time a mage has killed a few people, are you worried you will qualify after your next birthday or do you think this is somehow connected with your parents?”

... Had he gone too far too soon? Even if things went over well here there would be hell to pay when he got home of word of his antics ever left this room. He wasn’t sure which he feared most right now. A wrath of a spoilt rich little brat or a the cunning cruelety of a wise and desperate master.

Despite his earlier thoughts Arden realised where his disdain had come from. He had always disliked the entitled and the elite, the privileged and wealthy. Those that thought they were somehow better, that looked down upon the very people they took from, people like his no good father, people like the ones surrounding him in this very room.
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