This thread will be a record of the Scathachian involvement with Temple SL. This specific entry is in direct response to this Playable.

"They don't know anything. Apparently nobody knows anything," the Watch Lieutenant threw his hands up in a dramatic fashion. "This is getting out of hand...AGAIN...since anyone is afraid to come forward with any real information." Richard Cullen shook his head, "I've lived here all my life, my parents lived here all of theirs. I'm just sick of this ****. I'm sick of the **** this city has to go through!" The other few members of the Watch who were gathered in the small office were mostly quiet. Most of them had not yet been to bed and have been getting fewer and fewer hours' rest. The number of protests, incidents and attacks had been steadily growing both in frequency and intensity.

One of the younger patrolmen was the only to speak up. "We do know some things, Lieutenant Cullen. We know that this Temple of the Divine Mother is somehow behind all of this. Feeding propaganda, egging on this mistrust of magic users."

Cullen stopped his pacing and looked over to the young man. "Bertram, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Bertram, I'm sooo glad you're here this early god damned morning to tell us all this! Where was this information an hour ago when we could have had it and then all gone home to our beds??" Obviously, Cullen was sleep deprived and lacked his usual grace when dealing with idealistic rookies of the Watch. The other patrolmen shifted their stances while exchanging uncomfortable looks, mostly at Bertram who immediately held his tongue.

One of the Watchmen in the back, however, muttered something under his breath, yet was just loud enough to be heard over the uncomfortable silence of the room. "Iffya ask me, it's the damned Unnaturals' faults."

Cullen caught it. "What was that?" His gray eyes speared their gaze through the detective in the back of the office. Cullen's voice raised, "What was that?"

"It's just that these Unnaturals, sir, if they didn't flaunt their abilities or even have these abilities, the Temple of the Divine Mother and the real people around here wouldn't have anything to be upset about." The detective straightened his lean as he postulated. "The Temple is trouble, sure, but can you blame them' This city has been plagued by those with unnatural abilities as far back as anyone can remember."

The others in the room said nothing, but they didn't have to. Their body language spoke for them as they mirrored the detective's posture, looking back to their Lieutenant.

Cullen took a moment to look over those in the room, even the rookie who seemed a bit sheepish at the moment before he spoke quietly. "Out." The patrolmen seemed to not hear him, so he aided their hearing, "OUT! All of you!" Pointing to the door, Cullen wasted no time in letting his rage fly from the tongue. The Watchmen took their cue and quickly exited his office, the last man shutting the door on the way out. Cullen took a long inhale and held it as he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and then over the stubble on his face. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had the time to actually shave it properly. Probably before all of this Temple business started, he thought. A heavy sigh then took his body as he sunk into the chair behind the desk in his new office. Only having been promoted to Lieutenant late last year, this was the first test of his new position. And he could feel it bearing down on him heavily as he shut his eyes and fantasized about the day he could sleep in.

"Well, that's one way to clear a room." The Scathachian's velvet voice seemed to echo from within the shadows of the office, sending Cullen into a near full-panic as she shot up from his chair and looked around.

Isuelt was standing on the fire escape outside of the open window. It wasn't open to the point were she could saunter inside, but it was open enough that she had heard most of the meeting that had just ended.

"For ***** sake, DeRomiano! Are you trying to give me a damned heart attack"!" Cullen gripped the shirt at his chest for punctuation.

Isuelt's gloved fingers reached under the window and pulled it up so that she could duck in. Graceful as a cat burglar, her boots hit the floor and she stood to her full height before the Lieutenant. "I'd never do something like that to a man like you, Cullen." She smirked, knowing full well he was being a little over-dramatic. "I wouldn't have anyone to stalk." She winked, hoping to simmer him down. She knew he was under an immense amount of stress.

Cullen waved her off and resumed his pacing, "I've got innocent families being harassed and attacked, businesses being boycotted"and worse, graffiti all over the damned precinct, death threats coming in daily, too many to even check out anymore! My staff is picking sides, and half of them the wrong one! The captain breathing down my neck so he can get reports together for the GAC?"

"Which side is the wrong one?" Isuelt stood her ground close to the window, though her voice was made sure it closed the distance.

"What?" The Lieutenant paused his pacing and looked at the Scathachian.

"Which side is the wrong one, Cullen" You said your staff was p?"

"God damnit, Issy!" He cut her off. "I'm not going to get into this with you. For ***** sakes, now is not the time for politics! Look, I know which side you're on! You were for that magic registration act that went before the Governor a few administrations ago?"

Now it was Isuelt's turn to cut off Cullen, "You don't know anything about my politics." She paused, Isuelt knew full well that Cullen was well-aware of most of her politics. Still it felt like the right thing to say. Especially in this instance. "This is different."

"You're telling me it's different! I've got kids who are being attacked with their parents at the park for crying out loud!"

"I know."

"Yeah, I know, you were there." He rolled his eyes, obviously upset that the Scathachians were not doing more to aid the Watch with this situation. "No one's talking. Everyone's afraid?" Cullen took a moment to study a few of the diplomas and degrees on the wall that bore his name, so recently hung up. "Everyone's afraid to address the elephant in the room."

"Let me talk to the suspects or even some of the witnesses." She took a few steps forward.

"Oh sure! That'll make them all cozy, comfy and ready to spill their guts! A damned Judge coming for their head! No offense, Issy, but you don't really come off as the "nice cop" sort of persona."

The Scathachian's long legs halted. There was perhaps a shadow of sting on her features.

"Look the couple and child who were attacked are probably going to be fine, physically. Mentally, who the hell knows. Who the hell knows how this city will come back from something like this" I mean, magic is what makes this city what it is! This Temple has to come down! It has to be stopped! This is too much!" Cullen's hands went to his head and scratched as his eyes shut tight. He was exhausted and he knew it. He looked like hell and smelled like day-old coffee and an all-nighter in the sewers.

"Richard?" Isuelt had closed the distance between them and landed a soft hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged off her hand, though it pained him to do so, "Why don't you just do your job and I'll do mine." Cullen made his way toward the closed door to his office and opened it as he looked back to Isuelt, presumably for her to walk through it.

She was unsure just where most of his hostility was coming from, other than lack of sleep and frustration of the case"or cases. "I want to help you, Lieutenant."

"Really?" Still holding the door now with a hand on his hip. He seemed less than convinced.

"Really. It's my damned job. It's the entire reason I and the rest of my Sisters are in this goddess-forsaken city to begin with. Times like this." Her brows were tightly knitted. "Let me help you." A pause. "Even off the books." That seemed to be the magic word. Cullen shut the door and walked back to Isuelt. She continued, "Give me names, addresses, anything. I'll check out your leads, you suspicions?" They stood face to face and neither one shied away from looking the other in the eye. "I want to help you. I want this Temple to crumble."

"If you do that, if you help me do that"I would owe you more than I already do. I would"you could"you could do no wrong in my eyes, you know that, don't you DeRomiano?"

"I won't let you down."



"You never have."

"I never will."

Cullen breathed deeply, feeling like he'd been thrown a life preserver in the middle of a hurricane. "Get outta here. Go do your job, Scathachian." He smirked and nodded to the open window.

Isuelt returned his expression as she winked to the Watchman and turned to go, skirting the window sill just as she had on her entrance.

"And close that thing behind you, would ya" I'm gonna catch my death of cold here!"

"Thought you could use the fresh air, Lieutenant!" Isuelt called back through the open window, "You smell like a dead horse who smoked a pack of cigarettes on his way into work."

Cullen only saw a black blur as he made it to the window and looked down. The Judge had cleared the alleyway below and was well on her way before Cullen got a chance to close the window. He chuckled to himself as he let Isuelt's last words play back to him; though as he did, he took a quick inhale and decided she was right on the money. Another chuckle as he turned and grabbed his coat, shaking his head. He exited his office to get a shower and some sleep; he'd let Isuelt take this shift.

The following takes place in the early morning hours on the night of The Cleanse at the nightclub, Sanctuary.

In the hours that followed the rescue mission, there was much that had taken place. All of it, however, was little more than a blur to the Scathachian. She loosely remembered escorting the young witch, Mallory, to the nearest medical attention. She knew that her shoulder had been stitched up not because she clearly recalled the procedure, but because she could now feel the bandages pulling at her skin. Some rescue mission. Isuelt shuttered. A failed rescue mission.

Jewell was dead. Her body was nowhere to be found.

They had failed. Utterly failed.

Isuelt leaned heavily against the bar, her elbows on the counter, her head in her hands. She had remained this way for some time; so long in fact that the bar was nearly empty, save for a few who stayed within to be sheltered on the night of the Temple of the Divine Mother's self-imposed 'cleanse.' The tender long ago had locked the front door and was fine to leave the three patrons quietly secure for the night. The dive bar on the outskirts of the Temple district hadn't seen too much action save a few protesters with torches running through the streets in the hour just after midnight.

The Scathachian's body had forgotten that it could choose another position. She was far from sleep, instead she was watching the events of the night play out over and over again behind her closed eyes. A half-empty bottle of whisky sat in front of her, though truth be told, she didn't need it any longer. There was not enough alcohol to numb the pain she was feeling. Jewell had died, knights had died and she couldn't get the stench of death off of her hands. Still ever present was the warm feel of fresh blood on her hands, the scent of the Namekeeper's innards, the foul breath of the demons, a crackling in her ears. Not once, but a few times did the thought cross her mind that Renna's Rage Virus had not totally left her system. And perhaps some trace of it would always stay. She consoled herself with the knowledge that without it, perhaps she would have taken the Namekeeper into custody, along with the Knights of St. Aldwin. But for what he was responsible for...what he had done to Jewell...how he had sullied her...for that there was no better punishment than desecration. There was no ending more fit for him than to have his head removed from his body and his intestines spilled upon the floor. The carrion crows would have their fill of his shell and secretly Isuelt hoped the very birds themselves would choke on him.

There were no tears, just the sharp sting of loss that felt like it would tear her in two. Isuelt was in shock, her disbelief in how this all went down was enough to blind her to all that was going on around her. The sun was beginning to rise and show its bright crown of light to all the world. Shadows started to appear as day chased away the awful night. The other couple who had taken refuge in the tavern had ventured home, praising their gods for the safety of the bar. The Scathachian finally lifted her head long enough to take a deep inhale and once more let her hands rest about her nose and mouth. Her dark eyes finally opened to stare at the bottles clumsily stacked along the backbar. Still lost in her thoughts, she shook her head lightly. This had to all be a nightmare, certainly. There was no way that her dear friend was gone. A twinge from the stitches on her shoulder suddenly told her that last night was very real and as she rubbed her forehead, all she wanted to do was go back. Go back and try again. Try to save Jewell. Isuelt's brow broke; this was just all too much to take. She was secretly thankful for the emptiness of the bar; she was never one to shed tears in the presence of others.