Topic: Rattle the Cage

Ewan Corinsson

Date: 2009-07-29 10:15 EST
Lucien Mallorek had said to visit in the morning. The fact the man had very few times before asked for Ewan to visit was a curiosity. Add to that the request it be the next morning, and Ewan knew it had some sense of imperative upon him. The delay from night before to morning the next day had allowed Ewan to continue his patrols from one Holding House to another, the three he still maintained contacts, as well as catch news of a few of the latest curiosities from the Tunnelers.

That morning, however, as he walked towards the shipyard, he kept above ground. There was sun that morning pushing at the hazy grasp of fog that crept across the waters and wiggled fingers down the byways of the city. The shift of night to daytime dwellers was hard to perceive, but the shadows became more certain, striking a bold line between shade and sunlight. Ewan did not creep along those shadowy corners.

He had no purpose to hide even if he had dressed for patrol instead of a leisurely stroll about town. Edges of the black arcane material peaked out beneath the bracers at his wrists and lay hidden beneath his tunic, trews, and armaments. The cross sheathed swords, one the gift from Sid, were comfortable against his back. His head, however, was uncovered unlike at night.

Though uncovered it was, his mind was not as open and unconcealed. Suspicions slunk around the corners of his mind, drifting into pathways of possibilities. Each was a shadowplay in his thoughts while the world that surrounded him played out its day, draped in the ordinary.

So it was when he arrived at the shipyard to meet with Lucien Mallorek, Master Barrister, he felt a slight tremor of the cage inside him. He had been called for a purpose and to keep that tremor from growing, he walked the yard inspecting the skeletons of ships until the man arrived.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2009-08-07 22:26 EST
"I'm sorry I'm late. Ewan." Lucky made his way out into the yard and toward the Master of Arms, his uneven gait measured by the tapping echo of his cane. "Thank you for coming to see me. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long." He came up beside the waiting man and turned his gaze to the frame of one of the smaller boats that were in the yard.

He brushed calloused fingers over the ribs of the bow and pictured the vessel gliding easily through the water's glassy surface. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, enough to ease the Barrister's somber expression. Lucien drew a deep breath and the smile fell away and lips thinned to a tight line once more by the time he turned his attention to Ewan.

"I need the services of your talents and those of your network and associates," he began. There was none of Lucien's usual small talk. Not even a question asked of the man's family nor Sylvia and her family. The Barrister started making his way around the yard, cool blue gaze turned to the frames of the different ships cast into shadowed fingers reaching across the ground by the sun. Time was against them all.

"There is a man...." He quickly stopped himself and shook his head. The cane's mark was muted as he made his way around the yard in a more deliberate pace. "He was a man once. He is a monster now," Lucien amended quietly with a drawn breath.

"His name was...is Michael Gallager. He used to be the prelate of the E.C.C. here in town..." The Barrister paused to try and figure out the best way to explain the situation to the Master of Arms, when there were many questions that he had himself. "He has been hunting a friend of mine, Fionna Helston." Lucien didn't wait to see if recognition registered with Ewan, but continued walking across the yard, toward the pier.

"He has been killing priests of the E.C.C...." He remembered the image of the man nailed to the wall and shook his head, "...and others. He has broken into Fio's studio in the West End, the one with the Eye painted on the side of the building and has gone through her belongings. And he travels around by way of the city's sewers." Lucien privately wondered what other means Michael used, the cane tapping sharply against the wooden planks of the pier.

Cool blues looked out where the ocean waters met the morning sky along a keen line out on the horizon that promised eternity. "I need information about this Michael. To know about his whereabouts. What he does in his waking hours. I want to know what he even dreams, if he can, in his sleeping hours." Knuckles went white around the handle of the cane as fingers tightened their grip, before easing once more. "Whatever resources that you and your associates would need would be made available to you."

"Of course, your duties to the Baroness and the Barony and to your family come first. And as I mentioned earlier, he is no longer a man. He is undead and has demonic powers that enable him to change his appearance and even change his scent to that of another," he conveyed with a deep frown marking his brow, recalling Ali's recount in the Inn. "He has killed and will kill again, of that I've no doubt."

Lucien finally tore his attention from the horizon and fixed them upon Ewan. "I want him hunted down if at all possible."

Ewan Corinsson

Date: 2009-08-12 16:48 EST
Ewan gave a mild nod in thanks for the offering, but did not quibble over its lack of necessity. A time had not been set, and he had used the intermediate moments to reflect upon what he had observed in his travel to the shipyard. His times touring above ground had grown even more rare with the efforts made towards establishing his school. It was, he thought, perhaps a fortunate delay to adjust his senses to his surroundings and accustom himself to the nuances of the man before him.

Nuances were held in a slight smile that transformed to a tight line of the man's mouth, the determination of a hampered gait, and the shake of a head. Ewan listened to the words as well. The Barrister offered no preamble to the request, and that set Ewan's inner cage trembling with fiendish delight. The intensity vibrated and he felt the smile pull at his cheeks. He fought it out of respect for Lucien's concern, but he knew that he would enjoy this hunt...even if he failed the goals.

Of course, he had full intentions of being of some aid. The starting of it would be rough, full of half notions and discourse with raggedy creatures with stunted notions of good and evil. "A being can change shape and scent, but rarely can one change themselves - his habits, so to speak. The sewers cross with the Tunnels in various places. I will see what I can find"

Something needled him at the corner of his thoughts. "May I ask what theories have been provided as to why this change and his particular interest in Ms...does she still go by Helston?" It was, too late he realized, of little concern to him whether she did or not, and a wave of a hand brushed aside the comment. "I know of her, but not much of her history. If there is anything in that which might direct my hunt of Gallager, then I would be glad to know of it. If not, then I will do what I can to see to your request of this monster, though," he let his grin break through, "we are all monsters in some fashion."