nightmare medx

The Sunday Group - Seeds and Harvests

“Okay. So we’re not looking at something particularly deliberate in that sense. Is that how he was stabbed?” she asked, mimicking Jocasta’s movements. “Perpetrator is more likely to be a male if it is… well, assuming they’re human. It might hold for humanoid non-human species as well, but I don’t know if there’s really a data set for that.” Though her eyes were in the direction of the body, she wasn’t really looking at it anymore; the gears were turning in her head, sorting the information they had and trying to figure out what the next point on the map was.

The hand on the specimen fridge had been rather casually making its way back to the floor, but paused for a moment at Adri’s musings, and then turned back. It pulled at the magnet with her name on it, silently questioning if her name was to be moved back down, but left it be after a wave from Jocasta. It did seem a little… huffy as it bustled back off.

“A… what or a what?”She blinked hard, momentarily looking a little less far away. “Um… I’m not personally into ink… we did some handwriting analysis workshops, those were interesting, person who ran them was actually super into it, but more pertinently, I know from being to Turkey that a lot of the mosques collected and used their own soot for ink making, you’d probably like the architectural aspect, but anyways… carbon based could have indicated some kind of holy place or other spiritual aspect. Not that this rules out its involvement entirely.”

Jocasta squinted her eyes in a disbelieving manner. “Whatever you say, Ink Skink.”

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out, vaguely wondering what the problem was with squids and ink. “Suheila Ahmad… John Johnston… and Warner… Znamierowski,” she pronounced slowly. “I’ll get more info when I call my contact, but along with Gretchen Colter those are some key persons of interest with ties to Faisal in the area, so if you hear anything…”

The Sunday Group - Seeds and Harvests

Adri had taken a moment to clean up upon arriving at the Sunday Group’s base of operations. After scrubbing her hand raw (maybe not entirely necessary, but you never knew with demon crows) it was carefully wrapped, and she changed into clothes that hadn’t been spattered with her blood today.

She remembered her first visit to the morgue here. She had been warned that she might find the personnel particularly peculiar and not to be alarmed at what she might see, only to be severely underwhelmed. Jocasta would have fit right in with many of the forensic techs she had met working for the police. You had to be a little weird to work that closely with dead bodies- funeral home workers in particular were something else.

She clicked on a voice recorder as she walked in, tucking it down her shirt. It was mainly so she could talk to herself and remember what she had said later, but it was also great to listen back to everyone else’s thoughts while trying to come up with ideas.

For the most part, she listened quietly, occasionally muttering something to herself. The crow was still looking at her, its beady eyes glaring, but it had apparently given up trying to escape for now. She didn’t know why Blythe still had it and didn’t care- at least she didn’t have to deal with it.

“So, you said stab wound to the chest, incision to the anterior portal vein. Do you mean it looks deliberate, or is it just more shallow?” She came over to the body finally, frowning as her eyes swept the body. He was old but not ancient old- maybe in his forties, give or take a bit. He still would have had a decent number of years ahead of him.

“Fazel Ibrahim al-Jalasi,” she muttered under her breath as she typed it into her phone, sending it off to a friend on the force. “I’ll see if he has any other known associates around or if he was being investigated for anything in the area. No guarantee I’ll be able to get much, but it’ll give us a starting point.”

After a pause, she added, “so far, this feels personal and targeted, not random. First we have the wounds, then we have the ink. 16th century Turkey would have been a part of the Ottoman Empire, which definitely included part of the Arab world, so it could be related to where he was born and lived. Or work he did in the area. Is the ink carbon-based or iron-based?”

“Phosphine could also mean meth lab,” she pointed out. “Fazel doesn’t seem like the type, but it’s too early to rule anything out.”

The Sunday Group - Seeds and Harvests

Adri handed Al his camera back, figuring he was more likely to need it, before turning to follow Blythe, walking quietly by her. She was concerned, sure, about her and Teajay, but there would be time to dwell on everything later once they had finished their work. Besides, if there was one thing she had learned it was that filling the silence was sometimes the least helpful thing you could do for someone.

It was habit to assess and analyze, and it was no different with their witness: she noted the spider veins faintly spreading across his cheeks, which, combined with the distinct sickly scent underneath his general malodour, told her that he probably had an alcohol problem. His jacket was too big and unlikely to be warm enough for the weather, but at least it looked like he had layers. That was probably a steel bar tucked in an inner pocket, but he was unlikely to be able to move fast enough for it to be a problem.

He also, apparently, had a pet crow. A pet crow that was talking directly to her.

Well, if any animal was going to correctly identify a police officer without a uniform, it was going to be a crow. Adri looked around, on the off chance a patrol unit had magically appeared, but no, the crow was talking to her. Once upon a time she might have asked herself if she was losing it- way back before she became a cop, maybe.

“I am indeed a cop. Or I was one, I guess. Either way, you’re not in trouble, we just need some help.”

She put one hand on her knees, stooping just low enough to be around eye level with the crow, resting her clipboard flat against her thighs. She could see the man’s mouth moving in her peripheral vision, but she did not directly focus on him. No, she was having a conversation with a crow like she did this on the regular.

It took a moment for her brain to parse what the crow was saying. “You want… blood. My blood?”

“Cawwwp blaaaaad,” it repeated, seemingly happy that its words had been understood. It trotted back up the man’s arm, claws digging into the jacket for purchase, digging its beak into the pocket on the front of the beige jacket several sizes too big for its wearer. The crow emerged with a cooker, stained from far too many uses, flapping its wings to land gracefully at Adri’s feet. It set the metal down on the ground and stared up at her, its head cocked to the side.

The crow seemed to be the one in charge, she decided.

“I get it, you want blood. I- motherfffff-!” She bit down sharply on her lower lip as pain briefly seared through the back of her hand.

In a flash of feathers, the crow had swiped a claw across the back of her hand before retreating to its perch on their witness’ shoulder. She shot it a glare; it merely stared back with its beady eyes, looking from her to the container it had set out on the ground.

“What do you want cop blood for, anyways?” she asked, idly making conversation as the metal cup quickly filled up. The crow was nosing around the man’s jacket again and ignored her, not that she was really looking for an answer. The man’s mouth was moving still; she could hear a faint shhh, a fff, but she wasn’t entirely sure the man even had the capacity to speak.

Once that was done, she pulled her injured hand inside her sleeve and pressed the fabric down to stem the remaining blood flow. “Okay, so, about the auction house-“

The crow resurfaced with a bottle cap this time, dropping it right next to the filled receptacle. She took one look at it and shook her head. “No. That’s not how this is going to work. You got what you wanted, now-“

“CAWWWP BLAAAD!”

This time, at least, she was expecting it to come at her, and all it managed to do was scratch at her clipboard. She sighed, turning her head to look at Blythe as the bird took to the air and swooped down at them. “As entertaining as it would be to arrest a bird, I think it’s your turn.”

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

Being hunted, that was something she was well familiar with. “You want to go back?” She certainly had no interest in going home any time soon, but humans were different; it seemed they formed peculiar attachments to most anything.

This was not like many of the inns she had been to on the surface, tiny wooden buildings only marginally better kept than the ramshackle homes that surrounded them. People who had been abandoned by the rest of the world often cared less about who was passing through. She had even been invited to stay in someone’s *home* once, not that she would ever take anyone up on that kind of offer- she could not imagine they could have any kind of good intentions.

Now, Chult- that was a smart cover. Char never would have thought of it herself; she knew of the place in passing, but had never ended up that far away. Travel had to be done carefully as a Drow- as a thief, too, she supposed, but at least that knowledge wouldn’t necessarily follow everywhere, unless one wasn’t a particularly good thief.

It was an awkward task to manage, but she successfully managed to remove all her weapons while still remaining safely hidden inside her cloak. She was not particularly happy to do so; while she had no pressing need to have them, she did not like to be without.

Anyone up for a game of Mafia/Werewolf?

Hello! We actually lost a player and since I need seven, there is space! Have you seen the set up and character sheet? You just need to fill one out and drop it in the OOC; once I’ve verified it you can put it in the Character tab.

The Sunday Group - Seeds and Harvests

I am so stealing “the afterbirth of rain” for a song lyric.

Anyone up for a game of Mafia/Werewolf?

Bumping this because we need another player!

Our Minds' Shadowed Hallways

Telepathy. Supposedly, she had this ability. And yet… she had no memory of it. Had no idea how to access it.

Their first session, Xavier had taken Jean through some of her memories, trying to find something to jumpstart the flow of others, but nothing was sparking the recollection or use of any of the powers she had been told she had.

Today, he had walked her through some of his. And still… nothing. No memory. No ability.

She let out a sigh heavy with frustration as Xavier studied her with his intense eyes. “I just... even though I don’t remember, something feels… off. Like a part of me is missing.”

He nodded. “I can imagine. I think we’ve done enough for today, but we’ll try again tomorrow. What are you thinking about today’s session?”

She paused, pursing her lips and glancing down to the floor. “I… I notice that my memories of you are hazy. I… you showed me some of the, uh, the X-Men-“ apparently she was one too. “-using their their powers. It seems like my memories of anyone using… any kind of power have been wiped. And then there’s… Scott.”

Xavier had told her she was in a relationship with Scott, but she had absolutely no recollection of him.

“I have a lot to think about today,” she said as she stood up to take her leave. She headed to the heavy wooden door.

“Jean.”

She turned back.

“We’ll get you sorted out.”

She gave a nod and smile, but right now she wasn’t so sure. With that, she left the room, the door left open as she exited.

Speak of the devil.

“Hey, Scott,” she said with a smile. “Uh… what’s going on?”

MAFIA: Madame Broussard's Witchy Wares

@Elite Minor Can you do up a character sheet? The template is available under the Characters tab.

@AntiRpRP Looks good!