Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror|IC|Open)

[Bolslania]

"Good evening, Mister Boone," Viviette answered with a smile though she chose not to stand and formally great herself to the gentlemen. "Viviette Sinclair," she playfully added as if it was an after thought. "It's a pleasure."

Her hand gestures, meanwhile, were more grand and perhaps a little to theatrical as she hoped to draw the man's attention even if she found him personally boring at the moment. Boone's relative familiarity as Midlander made him mundane compared to the assorted group of foreigners that had also been introduced to the Order of Saint Thomas

Turning her attention to Van der Walk, she gestured to one of the seats. "I hate to cut the pleasantries short, Mister Boone" she lied to Boone, "but I believe we have more pertinate issues than introductions to discuss for the evening.

"Quite right, Ms. Sinclair." He turned to Van der Valk himself. He wasn't really amused by Sinclair's antics, seeing as how he had been trained to see right through all of them, but it was no matter, it just appeared he was going to have to gain the trust of his fellows the hard way.

"So, I'd like to clear up the obvious suspicions that I have aroused here. I am James Boone, field operative for the Order of St. Thomas." He pulled out his Order signet and the letter that contained his orders and set them on the table in front of Van der Valk. He was speaking in a pleasant, but quiet, voice to avoid attracting the attentions of other patrons at the inn.

"That it my signet and those are my orders from up top. I have been instructed to join you in this affair."

[Dyelli Beybi]

Harriet Salt

As Adam walked Miss Salt to her car, he asked, "Strange things have been going on. You and your colleagues have been talking about weird things. Supernatural events, barghests, etc. I was a skeptic, but now I am not so sure. Can you inform me of these happenings?"

"If you mean, have I experienced horrible things in the wild places of this island, then yes, I have," Harriet darted a glanced at Adam, chewing her lip, thoughtfully "Though I'd rather save that story for a less pressing time."

Probably to Adam's surprise, Harriet was setting a brisk pace towards the Railway Inn. Perhaps she had parked nearby? When she moved quickly, the slight limp she had shown before became more pronounced, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I lured you away under somewhat false pretences," she said, before adding hastily "It was the only way I could think to draw you away and explain what was going on! And it's not that I'm opposed to seeing if we can rekindle what we once had... far from it. I'm not sure if you were paying attention, or if you would recognise the signs, but this newcomer is not from the Order. I don't know who, or more importantly, what he is, though he has attempted to insert himself in our investigation. I would not be surprised if he is the creature we are looking for... and I was quite sure it was a barghest!"

She darted another look at Adam, "Do you have a weapon in your room or on your person? As I said, I'm not sure what this newcomer is. I have a gun in my room. This situation could become dangerous very quickly."

---

A little later, back at the Inn...

"Quite right, Ms. Sinclair." He turned to Van der Valk himself. He wasn't really amused by Sinclair's antics, seeing as how he had been trained to see right through all of them, but it was no matter, it just appeared he was going to have to gain the trust of his fellows the hard way.

"So, I'd like to clear up the obvious suspicions that I have aroused here. I am James Boone, field operative for the Order of St. Thomas." He pulled out his Order signet and the letter that contained his orders and set them on the table in front of Van der Valk. He was speaking in a pleasant, but quiet, voice to avoid attracting the attentions of other patrons at the inn.

"That it my signet and those are my orders from up top. I have been instructed to join you in this affair."

"From up top?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow, "Who did you say you were? That's rather presumptuous to assume I'd recognise your signet ring..." her eyes narrowed, clearly he was doing a lot to arouse suspicion, "What chapter are you from?"

van der Valk held up a hand, stalling Eleanor's barrage of questions, long enough for Salt to slip into the back of the room, "Mister Boone. Shall we try this again?

"You are quite obviously not from the Order so please abandon any pretence of being so. You appear to have several grave misapprehensions about how the order functions, including that I might not most if not all members in England by name and reputation, even if I have not met them face-to-face. This is a small organisation that deals with occasional problems in a discrete manner. However, most glaring is the fact that you appear to believe there are some nebulous 'higher ups' in the organisation who is more senior than me. I have invited Inspector Jago here because attempting to insert yourself in a murder investigation under false pretences is cause for me to reasonably suspect that you may have been involved in one or both murders that have recently occurred in this town and are attempting to establish what the authorities know about them. How you know about our organisation is a different question entirely.

"I do not know, who, or what, you are but I would strongly suggest you begin to speak truthfully and that you make your explanation phenomenally good."

"Don't try anything foolish," Jago advised. The Inspector had acquired an intent look, like a harrier hound that had picked up the scent of its quarry, his grey eyes fixed on Boone.

[Bolslania]

Harriet Salt

As Adam walked Miss Salt to her car, he asked, "Strange things have been going on. You and your colleagues have been talking about weird things. Supernatural events, barghests, etc. I was a skeptic, but now I am not so sure. Can you inform me of these happenings?"

"If you mean, have I experienced horrible things in the wild places of this island, then yes, I have," Harriet darted a glanced at Adam, chewing her lip, thoughtfully "Though I'd rather save that story for a less pressing time."

Probably to Adam's surprise, Harriet was setting a brisk pace towards the Railway Inn. Perhaps she had parked nearby? When she moved quickly, the slight limp she had shown before became more pronounced, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I lured you away under somewhat false pretences," she said, before adding hastily "It was the only way I could think to draw you away and explain what was going on! And it's not that I'm opposed to seeing if we can rekindle what we once had... far from it. I'm not sure if you were paying attention, or if you would recognise the signs, but this newcomer is not from the Order. I don't know who, or more importantly, what he is, though he has attempted to insert himself in our investigation. I would not be surprised if he is the creature we are looking for... and I was quite sure it was a barghest!"

She darted another look at Adam, "Do you have a weapon in your room or on your person? As I said, I'm not sure what this newcomer is. I have a gun in my room. This situation could become dangerous very quickly."

---

A little later, back at the Inn...

"Quite right, Ms. Sinclair." He turned to Van der Valk himself. He wasn't really amused by Sinclair's antics, seeing as how he had been trained to see right through all of them, but it was no matter, it just appeared he was going to have to gain the trust of his fellows the hard way.

"So, I'd like to clear up the obvious suspicions that I have aroused here. I am James Boone, field operative for the Order of St. Thomas." He pulled out his Order signet and the letter that contained his orders and set them on the table in front of Van der Valk. He was speaking in a pleasant, but quiet, voice to avoid attracting the attentions of other patrons at the inn.

"That it my signet and those are my orders from up top. I have been instructed to join you in this affair."

"From up top?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow, "Who did you say you were? That's rather presumptuous to assume I'd recognise your signet ring..." her eyes narrowed, clearly he was doing a lot to arouse suspicion, "What chapter are you from?"

van der Valk held up a hand, stalling Eleanor's barrage of questions, long enough for Salt to slip into the back of the room, "Mister Boone. Shall we try this again?

"You are quite obviously not from the Order so please abandon any pretence of being so. You appear to have several grave misapprehensions about how the order functions, including that I might not most if not all members in England by name and reputation, even if I have not met them face-to-face. This is a small organisation that deals with occasional problems in a discrete manner. However, most glaring is the fact that you appear to believe there are some nebulous 'higher ups' in the organisation who is more senior than me. I have invited Inspector Jago here because attempting to insert yourself in a murder investigation under false pretences is cause for me to reasonably suspect that you may have been involved in one or both murders that have recently occurred in this town and are attempting to establish what the authorities know about them. How you know about our organisation is a different question entirely.

"I do not know, who, or what, you are but I would strongly suggest you begin to speak truthfully and that you make your explanation phenomenally good."

"Don't try anything foolish," Jago advised. The Inspector had acquired an intent look, like a harrier hound that had picked up the scent of its quarry, his grey eyes fixed on Boone.

Boone's polite pretenses fell off of his face faster than flesh from a burned corpse. He spoke flatly to Van der Valk

"Mr. Van der Valk. You seem to misunderstand exactly what my purpose is within the order." He said this, and quickly looking around to make sure that no one was listening in on the conversation he pulled out first his switchblade, setting it neatly alongside his signet ring, followed by his Savage 1907, from which he removed the clip and set next to the switchblade, and finished by the suppressor, which was also laid neatly on the table.

"No pretenses you say? Well Mr. Van der Valk I am a killer. I kill in service to the Order, and I have been sent here not to investigate, but to do the dirty work which unless I miss my mark, none of you are expert in doing. While I might not be good at rituals, I am excellent at regular violence and I am what will help you catch and kill this creature." Boone said, leaning his weight on his knuckles on the table, his sharp eyes staring intently at Van der Valk, his eyes had acquired a disquieting, predatory look.

"I belong to the Chapter of London (assume this is correct cuz I didn't see any list of Chapters in the IC), and am here under orders of (Insert some big name of the Order) as you can see detailed in this letter that was addressed to you Mr. Van der Valk. In it, if you ever bother to read it instead of putting forward baseless accusations me of being some monster or serial killer, you will find everything you need to know." He said, sliding the letter towards Van der Valk.

[Voxija]

"If you mean, have I experienced horrible things in the wild places of this island, then yes, I have," Harriet darted a glanced at Adam, chewing her lip, thoughtfully "Though I'd rather save that story for a less pressing time."

Probably to Adam's surprise, Harriet was setting a brisk pace towards the Railway Inn. Perhaps she had parked nearby? When she moved quickly, the slight limp she had shown before became more pronounced, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I lured you away under somewhat false pretences," she said, before adding hastily "It was the only way I could think to draw you away and explain what was going on! And it's not that I'm opposed to seeing if we can rekindle what we once had... far from it. I'm not sure if you were paying attention, or if you would recognise the signs, but this newcomer is not from the Order. I don't know who, or more importantly, what he is, though he has attempted to insert himself in our investigation. I would not be surprised if he is the creature we are looking for... and I was quite sure it was a barghest!"

She darted another look at Adam, "Do you have a weapon in your room or on your person? As I said, I'm not sure what this newcomer is. I have a gun in my room. This situation could become dangerous very quickly."

Adam Weiss was very much intriguing by Harriet Salt hinting at her supernatural experiences, but Adam knew that this was not the right situation for it. He was surprised that they were going back to the Inn, and slightly disappointed that this wasn't going to be a romantic encounter, although he was glad that Harriet might be interested in resurrecting their corpse of a relationship.

"Mister Boone? Him? I wasn't paying attention to him, but now that you think of it, he did seem like a shifty man. Or 'man'." Weiss didn't think Boone could be a supernatural creature, but what did he know about the supernatural? He'd only just learned about such things.

"I have a Mauser pistol in my room. From... the war." Adam knew something like this was going to happen. Maybe some toughs would get drunk and think taking out a German war veteran was a good idea. Or something like this would happen. Thus, Adam Weiss had brought his gun. "I'm glad you brought your gun, too, Harriet. It's best to be prepared." If she were any other woman, Adam would ask what she would need with a gun, but Harriet was Harriet, and he loved her ways.

[Lessoni]

The creak of the door disturbed her from her reading. She looked up from her book, glancing hurriedly at the doorway to find some of her companions reemerging, led by the imposing broad figure of van der Valk. She smiled brightly, quickly setting her novel down and laying her hand on the cover of the larger of the two bestiaries she had with her. It was good to see them again, "Good evening Ladies, Gentlemen. I hope that you enjoyed a productive day?"

Jesse Dredlen

He’d barely paid attention on the way back to the inn, not bothering to make conversation. He’d never seen a body mangled like that, not even the occasional gator attack. He was pondering the nature of a creature that could do that, and he suddenly had a vested interest in not dealing with it alone. He wished for the weight of his revolver on his waist; he’d strap it on as soon as he could, probably as soon as he got back to the inn.

As they arrived, and he already heading for his room, he dispelled his fear. He was a man, after all, and a man didn’t need to use a revolver like a child would a blanket or a favorite toy. He rejoined the group, not sitting too far, and simply observed the people around him. He’d speak up when he needed to.

[Reverend Norv]

"There are a great many killers in this world," a quiet voice stated from the corner of the room. "Monsieur - Boone." Jean-Martin's tone made clear that he remained skeptical of the newcomer's identity.

The doctor had been late in returning from the hospital, and he had slipped in the back entrance of the inn, hoping for a few moments' conversation with Eleanor. Now he detached himself from the shadows at the back of the dining room, whence he had observed the confrontation. Jean-Martin glanced at Harriet and Adam, whose whispered conversation he had overheard. With deliberate motions, he unbuttoned the jacket of his suit and angled his body, so that the pair could see the pistol in his shoulder holster - but Boone could not. Then he turned back to the stranger.

"There are millions of killers, in fact." Jean-Martin's voice was clipped with controlled emotion. "And I have seen a great many of them die on the table in front of me. Many no doubt believed that they were excellent at - qu'est-ce que vous avez dit? - at 'regular violence.' And many thought that carrying a gun served as some sort of credential." Jean-Martin nodded at Boone's pistol. "Until they met a shell that proved them wrong."

"I do not know whether or not you serve our - association." The doctor's voice was steady, firm. "What I do know is that killing is not a skill. It is an accident: which way the wind blows the gas, which way the shell is fused. There are no killers any more - only victims." Jean-Martin stepped closer, surreptitiously placing his body between Boone and Eleanor. "If you had ever seen death in truth, you would know this. Donc: you are not what you claim - whatever your papers say. Because no one is."

"So - let us have no more of papers, please. Or rings. Or guns. You ask for our trust. Earn it." Jean-Martin raised his eyebrows calmly. "Who are you, Monsieur Boone? Really?"

[Bolslania]

"There are a great many killers in this world," a quiet voice stated from the corner of the room. "Monsieur - Boone." Jean-Martin's tone made clear that he remained skeptical of the newcomer's identity.

The doctor had been late in returning from the hospital, and he had slipped in the back entrance of the inn, hoping for a few moments' conversation with Eleanor. Now he detached himself from the shadows at the back of the dining room, whence he had observed the confrontation. Jean-Martin glanced at Harriet and Adam, whose whispered conversation he had overheard. With deliberate motions, he unbuttoned the jacket of his suit and angled his body, so that the pair could see the pistol in his shoulder holster - but Boone could not. Then he turned back to the stranger.

"There are millions of killers, in fact." Jean-Martin's voice was clipped with controlled emotion. "And I have seen a great many of them die on the table in front of me. Many no doubt believed that they were excellent at - qu'est-ce que vous avez dit? - at 'regular violence.' And many thought that carrying a gun served as some sort of credential." Jean-Martin nodded at Boone's pistol. "Until they met a shell that proved them wrong."

"I do not know whether or not you serve our - association." The doctor's voice was steady, firm. "What I do know is that killing is not a skill. It is an accident: which way the wind blows the gas, which way the shell is fused. There are no killers any more - only victims." Jean-Martin stepped closer, surreptitiously placing his body between Boone and Eleanor. "If you had ever seen death in truth, you would know this. Donc: you are not what you claim - whatever your papers say. Because no one is."

"So - let us have no more of papers, please. Or rings. Or guns. You ask for our trust. Earn it." Jean-Martin raised his eyebrows calmly. "Who are you, Monsieur Boone? Really?"

Boone turned to look at the doctor, he noticed the doctor's careful positioning, and the woman's stiff posture, figuring that the woman behind him was armed.

"Good sir, I serve this association dutifully. I am more than willing to take you straight to the desk of my superior." He said, shifting his weight to where he could spring for his weapons at a moment's notice. "And you question my aptitude as a killer. There are two types of killers, the lucky, and the artist. What you describe is the former, the latter is a very different breed. The latter is that Sniper who knows exactly what to look for, can see the slightest difference in the terrain, the slightest movement, and when he shoots, it is no accident. The artist is that man who knows exactly what his quarry will do next, knows exactly what every position of the body means and knows exactly when and where to strike. The artist is the one who can see another's art. For example, I know that the woman standing behind you is armed, I know that a some point she might draw her weapon from her shoulder holster, and I know that I will be able to kill her in no more than 5 seconds. I, good sir, am an artist." He turned back to face the group as a whole.

"As I said, if you will entertain me for but a moment, I can prove to you that I serve this organization. If you wish, Mr. Van der Valk, one or all of you can come with me to the Headquarters area and meet my superiors. Does that seem fair?" Boone was both lying and telling the truth. While he had been sent here by the Order, he was also an agent for His Majesty' Government, tasked with spying on them. His faith in his fellows was shaken at their pure refusal to look at the evidence provided, if they only made accusations and disregarded evidence right under their noses, this current trend was suggesting that they were all going to meet brutal and untimely deaths

[Dyelli Beybi]

The Railway Inn

"Shoulder holster? Me?" Eleanor's eyes widened, her heart leapt in her throat as she was suddenly singled out as the person carrying a gun... with van der Valk, numerous demobbed soldiers and Harriet Salt in the party! All she'd done was ask a couple of questions. Jean-Martin had put himself between her and the thuggish individual, which was extremely noble of him, though even so she shrunk back in her chair protesting, "I'm just the librarian!"

Any further discussion was cut short by van der Valk, who pushed off to his feet, slamming a meaty fist down on the table in a display of uncharacteristic anger, "Boy, you are a liar and an insulting one at that. You are not from the London Chapter; I am from the London Chapter, as is Miss Martin and neither of us know you. There are no superiors I can meet; I am the Master of the Order. I do not need a killer assigned to my team to assist me; I was hunting the creatures of the night on the dark continent since before you were born. You want me to look at your orders, which are obviously a forgery since we don't send orders; this is a voluntary association not the army. Then... then... you have the gall to threaten physical violence against the Order's librarian... who you should have known since she was a child were you actually one of the London Chapter. Inspector Jago, this man is not who he claims to be. Do you have grounds to arrest him?"

It was a similar reaction to what Quinn had received when she had levelled a slur against Eleanor at the Order Headquarters. Clearly van der Valk could get a little paternal about the young librarian.

"If he wasn't with you, then I'd say he was tampering with the evidence at the crime scene... not to mention the threat of violence against Miss Martin if she is inclined to press charges," Jago replied, his tone dry and unemotional.

Eleanor had sensed the seething anger in Jean-Martin. She leaned forward, peering out from behind him, resting a hand lightly on the wrist of the Doctor's injured hand. It was a calming gesture, though also one that kept his good hand free if he needed it, "Gladly," she replied primly, glancing up at Jean-Martin in mute appeal for him to stay with her and let the others deal with the escalating situation. She wouldn't have wanted him to put himself in harm's way beforehand, but now... she couldn't allow it!

During the commotion, Harriet had produced her pistol, which she now held, casually at her hip, "Wrong lady with the pistol I'm afraid," she pointed out with a tone of wry amusement.

She wasn't the only one with a drawn weapon. Jago had produced his as well. Boone's threatening behaviour had had the Inspector take precautions, "Mister Boone, if indeed that is your name, I am placing you under arrest." he declared, "Come with me quietly. We'll try not to make a scene."

[Bolslania]

The Railway Inn

"Shoulder holster? Me?" Eleanor's eyes widened, her heart leapt in her throat as she was suddenly singled out as the person carrying a gun... with van der Valk, numerous demobbed soldiers and Harriet Salt in the party! All she'd done was ask a couple of questions. Jean-Martin had put himself between her and the thuggish individual, which was extremely noble of him, though even so she shrunk back in her chair protesting, "I'm just the librarian!"

Any further discussion was cut short by van der Valk, who pushed off to his feet, slamming a meaty fist down on the table in a display of uncharacteristic anger, "Boy, you are a liar and an insulting one at that. You are not from the London Chapter; I am from the London Chapter, as is Miss Martin and neither of us know you. There are no superiors I can meet; I am the Master of the Order. I do not need a killer assigned to my team to assist me; I was hunting the creatures of the night on the dark continent since before you were born. You want me to look at your orders, which are obviously a forgery since we don't send orders; this is a voluntary association not the army. Then... then... you have the gall to threaten physical violence against the Order's librarian... who you should have known since she was a child were you actually one of the London Chapter. Inspector Jago, this man is not who he claims to be. Do you have grounds to arrest him?"

It was a similar reaction to what Quinn had received when she had levelled a slur against Eleanor at the Order Headquarters. Clearly van der Valk could get a little paternal about the young librarian.

"If he wasn't with you, then I'd say he was tampering with the evidence at the crime scene... not to mention the threat of violence against Miss Martin if she is inclined to press charges," Jago replied, his tone dry and unemotional.

Eleanor had sensed the seething anger in Jean-Martin. She leaned forward, peering out from behind him, resting a hand lightly on the wrist of the Doctor's injured hand. It was a calming gesture, though also one that kept his good hand free if he needed it, "Gladly," she replied primly, glancing up at Jean-Martin in mute appeal for him to stay with her and let the others deal with the escalating situation. She wouldn't have wanted him to put himself in harm's way beforehand, but now... she couldn't allow it!

During the commotion, Harriet had produced her pistol, which she now held, casually at her hip, "Wrong lady with the pistol I'm afraid," she pointed out with a tone of wry amusement.

She wasn't the only one with a drawn weapon. Jago had produced his as well. Boone's threatening behaviour had had the Inspector take precautions, "Mister Boone, if indeed that is your name, I am placing you under arrest." he declared, "Come with me quietly. We'll try not to make a scene."

OOC: whoops I slipped up, I thought Jean-Martin was hiding someone who had a gun. Oops


Boone sighed, his priorities were clear though.

"Inspector Jago, I am going to slowly reach into my coat pocket, I am not reaching for a weapon." Boone then slowly reached into his coat, and pulled out his MI5 identification.


"MI5 Security Service, an agent of the crown entrusted with ensuring national security from foreign or domestic threats. Are you certain you want to keep that weapon out Ms. Salt?

"Now. It is not a fallacy that I am an agent of the Order. To which Mr. Richardson (Assume he is a real member of the Order for story's sake) can attest, but it also true that His Majesty has a vested interest in your organization." Turning to the Librarian and the doctor.

"Oh and my apologies ma'am, it is then, Jean-Martin wasn't it? Hmm anyway, Mr. Van der Valk, you might not need a killer, but you are going to need bait that can stay alive long enough for you to do your work, that is why I am here. And the Crown's good will might be very beneficial to your organization, so it would be in your interest to keep me around and informed Mr. Van der Valk. I do not care if you like me, all I care about is that you will cooperate for both of our benefits." Boone's voice had returned to it's more pleasant tone, which was his standard. He wasn't a very aggressive or brutish man, but he could be very intimidating if he chose to be.


"And to you Inspector, I was indirectly invited by Mr. Van der Valk to examine the crime scene, and your supposed 'threat of violence' was a warning to not pull a weapon on me. Which her tense stance suggested that she might have been armed, and if Inspector, you think I am capable of ripping a man apart,I am dubious about whether or not you are fit to either be an Inspector or be on this hunt, but if you feel it is a necessity, I will come with you." Boone said, sliding his weapons and Order identification towards Jago. "But if I might place two phone calls on the way there?"

[Dyelli Beybi]

"Van der Valk, a word in private, if I may?" Salt piped up from the back.

Van der valk glanced at her, then back at Boone, then back at her again. He nodded, getting up from behind his seat without a word to the others, following Salt out and up the stairs, well out of earshot of the rest of the group. She rounded upside her room, folding her hands across her chest. While they had been walking she had secreted the pistol she carried away again, "I think you should let him stay," she held up a hand, preempting the angry outburst from the Afrikaner, "No, hear me out. He's a brute and a fool, but he's a known quantity. Clearly we have attracted the attention of someone we don't want in the Government. If you and Jago throw the man in prison the Government will just send another and next time you might not spot him as an imposter. Now, we both know you have contacts in Government as well and you might be able to get this case to disappear -"

"The war is over," van der Valk growled, "It shouldn't be too difficult to get the entire agency to disappear."

Salt nodded, "But for now I'd suggest bringing him along on the proviso that he does not report back to his superiors until after we've dealt with whatever it is we are dealing with here. If there's actually a barghest involved it might change his perception somewhat."

"I'd still rather wring the jumped-out toad's neck," van der Valk grimaced. Threatening Eleanor had deeply angered him, "But fine, I can see the logic in that. He was also the only one in our party who showed any interest in looking at the body. He might be an asset, though I'd say there's a very strong chance he won't adhere to the terms of this arrangement. Can you keep an eye on him?"

Salt nodded again.

A few moments later the creak of the stairs announced the reappearance of the pair, "Mister Boone," van der Valk announced, "Your first impression marks you as a particularly loathsome individual, but despite my personal misgivings, I am going to allow you to work with us. On two conditions. First - you do not contact your superiors to tell them your cover is blown. You may tell them whatever you wish once our investigation is over. Second - because I don't trust you any more than I would trust a fox in a hen house, Salt is going to be keeping an eye on you. If I think you are becoming more trouble than you are worth, you will be made to leave. Am I making myself clear?"

Eleanor's hand tightened on Jean-Martin's sleeve at the announcement. Clearly she was not happy about this decision. Not one bit. Jago didn't seem to either, though he kept his opinions to himself.

Van der Valk left time for Boone to reply before turning to the rest of the assembled party, "Right. What evidence did you gather today? For those of you who weren't with me this afternoon, there was a second attack outside the Cathedral last night."

[Bolslania]

"Van der Valk, a word in private, if I may?" Salt piped up from the back.

Van der valk glanced at her, then back at Boone, then back at her again. He nodded, getting up from behind his seat without a word to the others, following Salt out and up the stairs, well out of earshot of the rest of the group. She rounded upside her room, folding her hands across her chest. While they had been walking she had secreted the pistol she carried away again, "I think you should let him stay," she held up a hand, preempting the angry outburst from the Afrikaner, "No, hear me out. He's a brute and a fool, but he's a known quantity. Clearly we have attracted the attention of someone we don't want in the Government. If you and Jago throw the man in prison the Government will just send another and next time you might not spot him as an imposter. Now, we both know you have contacts in Government as well and you might be able to get this case to disappear -"

"The war is over," van der Valk growled, "It shouldn't be too difficult to get the entire agency to disappear."

Salt nodded, "But for now I'd suggest bringing him along on the proviso that he does not report back to his superiors until after we've dealt with whatever it is we are dealing with here. If there's actually a barghest involved it might change his perception somewhat."

"I'd still rather wring the jumped-out toad's neck," van der Valk grimaced. Threatening Eleanor had deeply angered him, "But fine, I can see the logic in that. He was also the only one in our party who showed any interest in looking at the body. He might be an asset, though I'd say there's a very strong chance he won't adhere to the terms of this arrangement. Can you keep an eye on him?"

Salt nodded again.

A few moments later the creak of the stairs announced the reappearance of the pair, "Mister Boone," van der Valk announced, "Your first impression marks you as a particularly loathsome individual, but despite my personal misgivings, I am going to allow you to work with us. On two conditions. First - you do not contact your superiors to tell them your cover is blown. You may tell them whatever you wish once our investigation is over. Second - because I don't trust you any more than I would trust a fox in a hen house, Salt is going to be keeping an eye on you. If I think you are becoming more trouble than you are worth, you will be made to leave. Am I making myself clear?"

Eleanor's hand tightened on Jean-Martin's sleeve at the announcement. Clearly she was not happy about this decision. Not one bit. Jago didn't seem to either, though he kept his opinions to himself.

Van der Valk left time for Boone to reply before turning to the rest of the assembled party, "Right. What evidence did you gather today? For those of you who weren't with me this afternoon, there was a second attack outside the Cathedral last night."

"Right then" Boone said. If this is what it took, then so be it. He decided to not speak much, only speaking when spoken to. He casually slid the magazine back into the pistol and dropped it into his pocket, along with the switchblade and identification. He kept his eyes casually on Van der Valk, not really paying much mind to the others. He was going to have to be extra careful and polite the rest of the time if he hoped to receive any cooperation from these people. Not informing his superiors of his cover being blown was going to be tough however, and it would be a lot of paperwork once this was over.

[Reverend Norv]

The stranger looked at Jean-Martin. He looked past Jean-Martin, at Eleanor. Boone said that to him, killing was an art form, and that he was capable within five seconds of killing Eleanor. Eleanor gasped: "I'm just the librarian!" Her voice, to Jean-Martin, sounded a long way away.

It had been a very long time since Jean-Martin had hated anyone. Some poilus hated the Boches. Jean-Martin never had, not even when their grenades had ripped his hand off and his belly open and left him lying in the gore of the hospital tent, waiting to die. The Boches had been frightened children, that day in the mud. Jean-Martin had been the same. He had been exhausted, and flattened by grief, and he never wanted to open his eyes again. But he had not hated.

Now, Jean-Martin looked at this man who sat in front of him, and he hated him. Hate surged up the doctor's gullet like bile, and his throat constricted around it until Jean-Martin could barely breathe, and his one good hand balled into a fist until his knuckles turned white and his nails cut unheeded into his palm.

He felt a touch. He looked down, and saw Eleanor's hand on his left arm. It rested about four inches below Jean-Martin's elbow, at the point where the sleeve of his suit jacket was neatly folded back and pinned up: the place where his arm ended, and his emptiness began.

It was the first time she had ever touched him.

Jean-Martin looked back at Eleanor. There was a mute appeal in her dark eyes. The doctor's sea-green gaze met Eleanor's. Suddenly, he could breathe again.

Van der Valk bawled out Boone, and asked Inspector Jago to arrest him. Jago and Harriet drew their pistols. Eleanor crisply announced that she would gladly press charges. Jean-Martin pulled his own sidearm out of its shoulder holster. He still felt Eleanor's hand on his arm. Somehow, he didn't want to kill Boone any more. Once again, the world had much more important things in it than hate.

Boone produced some sort of British government identification, and smugly asked Harriet Salt whether she still wanted to keep her gun out. Pointedly, Jean-Martin did exactly that: he held his pistol calmly at his side, almost but not quite aimed at Boone. The stranger admitted that he was spying on the Order "for the Crown" - but glancing up at Jago, Boone reluctantly expressed himself willing to be arrested.

But that didn't happen. Instead, Harriet drew van der Valk aside, and the two disappeared up the stairs of the inn. They left a leaden silence in their wake. Jean-Martin stood his ground, squarely between Eleanor and Boone, gun in hand. He stared Boone down, unblinking. There was iron in his gaze, and scalding contempt. But there was no hate, not anymore. Eleanor's hand was gentle on his arm.

After a few moments, the stairs creaked, and the Order's leaders returned. Van der Valk frankly informed Boone that he was "a particularly loathsome individual," but allowed him to remain and work with the Order so long as he did not contact his superiors, and Harriet Salt kept an eye on him. Eleanor's hand tightened involuntarily on Jean-Martin's sleeve. The doctor knew: beneath her perfect composure, he felt Eleanor's fear. For a moment, the gun twitched again in Jean-Martin's hand: as if the barrel wanted to rise of its own accord.

"Right, then," Boone said flatly. He began depositing his various weapons back into his pockets. Jean-Martin hesitated for a long, significant moment before doing the same. Then he let out a soft sound - half growl, half sigh - that spoke of outrage and exhaustion and an utter lack of surprise. It was the sound men in the trenches had made, when the officers told them that it was almost time to go over the top.

Jean-Martin shoved his pistol back into its shoulder holster. The doctor glanced over his shoulder at Eleanor, and then back at Boone. He said: "Do not trouble her again, Monsieur Killer."

The word was an epithet, and there was no need to add the or else. The threat waited, unspoken but clear, in the space between Jean-Martin's words. In this moment, there was a great deal more guttural Arabic in his accent than musical French.

Van der Valk turned back to the rest of the group. "Right. What evidence did you gather today? For those of you who weren't with me this afternoon, there was a second attack outside the Cathedral last night."

Jean-Martin frowned at that. He forced his thoughts - and his gaze - away from Boone, and tried to focus on the case again. Another attack - at the Cathedral. Indoors again, then, or outside? And were the wound patterns the same?

There was no way to know, at least not yet. Jean-Martin cleared his throat. "I completed my autopsy of Doctor Sutherland," he stated. "In my estimation, we are looking for something like a very large dog or wolf. It is extremely strong: it twisted one of the doctor's arms off at the shoulder through torsion force alone. Its jaws are long enough to entirely surround a man's upper arm, and to cut through his abdomen down to the spinal cord. That suggests a fairly pronounced snout, and a size comparable to a Saint-Bernard, or other oversized mastiff. If not larger." Jean-Martin glanced back at Eleanor, and smiled briefly: half-apologetic, half-grateful. "I have no idea what to make of all that, of course, but I hope it may be helpful to those better-read than myself."

[Bolslania]

Watching Jean Martin, Boone realized he had severely mischaracterized the people in this room his eyes flicked back to Jean Martin as he gave his analysis and then up to Eleanor. His assumption that she was armed had stemmed from his knowledge that many in the room were armed, in addition to Jean Martin's careful positioning and her nervous stance. All hinted at either a very nervous person or an armed person. And Boone had been trained to assume the worst. His eyes conveyed an apologetic sentiment, before, after a brief moment, the darted back to Van der Valk. He kept his hands folded neatly behind his back, standing almost completely still under the hateful gaze of the Order members.

[Lessoni]

"Good sir, I serve this association dutifully. I am more than willing to take you straight to the desk of my superior." He said, shifting his weight to where he could spring for his weapons at a moment's notice. "And you question my aptitude as a killer. There are two types of killers, the lucky, and the artist. What you describe is the former, the latter is a very different breed. The latter is that Sniper who knows exactly what to look for, can see the slightest difference in the terrain, the slightest movement, and when he shoots, it is no accident. The artist is that man who knows exactly what his quarry will do next, knows exactly what every position of the body means and knows exactly when and where to strike. The artist is the one who can see another's art. For example, I know that the woman standing behind you is armed, I know that a some point she might draw her weapon from her shoulder holster, and I know that I will be able to kill her in no more than 5 seconds. I, good sir, am an artist." He turned back to face the group as a whole.

Jesse Dredlen

The whole scene playing out had Jesse nearly in stitches. He held it in, for certain, but he knew this idiot's type well; lotta bluster, lotta big ideas about what a big man they are, and this one even had a fancy badge to back him up, but the principle remained the same. Someone told him he was special, and he took that just a little too far to heart, and then he came in and put a death threat on a certainly pretty lady. He was a jackass, but it seemed Van Der Valk thought he'd be a useful one.

"Boy, killin' ain't no art form. Like 'da doc' said, all it is is you got lucky, other guy didn'. Moment you forget dat', your luck gon' go an' run out on ya'. But 'ey, what do I know? I'm just 'da luckiest bastard alive."

There was no way to know, at least not yet. Jean-Martin cleared his throat. "I completed my autopsy of Doctor Sutherland," he stated. "In my estimation, we are looking for something like a very large dog or wolf. It is extremely strong: it twisted one of the doctor's arms off at the shoulder through torsion force alone. Its jaws are long enough to entirely surround a man's upper arm, and to cut through his abdomen down to the spinal cord. That suggests a fairly pronounced snout, and a size comparable to a Saint-Bernard, or other oversized mastiff. If not larger." Jean-Martin glanced back at Eleanor, and smiled briefly: half-apologetic, half-grateful. "I have no idea what to make of all that, of course, but I hope it may be helpful to those better-read than myself."

Jesse barely understood what the doctor was saying with torsion or pronounced snouts, but he got the gist well enough; big ass dog, and it had a taste for human. One thing was for certain; he had no intent of coming stocked with anything smaller than a shotgun that would blow a hole in a man's chest.

"Good sir, I ain't no lexicon on 'dese matters, but this sound like sumpin' like a wolfman from 'dem scary stories used to hear as kids, though I invite our hosts to correct me if I'm mistaken."

He nearly snickered once more as Boone went to cower by Van Der Valk. All bark, no bite, and hiding behind the first guy with little authority the moment he saw things turning against him. Hopefully he'd prove to have a little spine, or this would be entirely the wrong profession for him.

[Bolslania]

"Good sir, I serve this association dutifully. I am more than willing to take you straight to the desk of my superior." He said, shifting his weight to where he could spring for his weapons at a moment's notice. "And you question my aptitude as a killer. There are two types of killers, the lucky, and the artist. What you describe is the former, the latter is a very different breed. The latter is that Sniper who knows exactly what to look for, can see the slightest difference in the terrain, the slightest movement, and when he shoots, it is no accident. The artist is that man who knows exactly what his quarry will do next, knows exactly what every position of the body means and knows exactly when and where to strike. The artist is the one who can see another's art. For example, I know that the woman standing behind you is armed, I know that a some point she might draw her weapon from her shoulder holster, and I know that I will be able to kill her in no more than 5 seconds. I, good sir, am an artist." He turned back to face the group as a whole.

Jesse Dredlen

The whole scene playing out had Jesse nearly in stitches. He held it in, for certain, but he knew this idiot's type well; lotta bluster, lotta big ideas about what a big man they are, and this one even had a fancy badge to back him up, but the principle remained the same. Someone told him he was special, and he took that just a little too far to heart, and then he came in and put a death threat on a certainly pretty lady. He was a jackass, but it seemed Van Der Valk thought he'd be a useful one.

"Boy, killin' ain't no art form. Like 'da doc' said, all it is is you got lucky, other guy didn'. Moment you forget dat', your luck gon' go an' run out on ya'. But 'ey, what do I know? I'm just 'da luckiest bastard alive."

There was no way to know, at least not yet. Jean-Martin cleared his throat. "I completed my autopsy of Doctor Sutherland," he stated. "In my estimation, we are looking for something like a very large dog or wolf. It is extremely strong: it twisted one of the doctor's arms off at the shoulder through torsion force alone. Its jaws are long enough to entirely surround a man's upper arm, and to cut through his abdomen down to the spinal cord. That suggests a fairly pronounced snout, and a size comparable to a Saint-Bernard, or other oversized mastiff. If not larger." Jean-Martin glanced back at Eleanor, and smiled briefly: half-apologetic, half-grateful. "I have no idea what to make of all that, of course, but I hope it may be helpful to those better-read than myself."

Jesse barely understood what the doctor was saying with torsion or pronounced snouts, but he got the gist well enough; big ass dog, and it had a taste for human. One thing was for certain; he had no intent of coming stocked with anything smaller than a shotgun that would blow a hole in a man's chest.

"Good sir, I ain't no lexicon on 'dese matters, but this sound like sumpin' like a wolfman from 'dem scary stories used to hear as kids, though I invite our hosts to correct me if I'm mistaken."

He nearly snickered once more as Boone went to cower by Van Der Valk. All bark, no bite, and hiding behind the first guy with little authority the moment he saw things turning against him. Hopefully he'd prove to have a little spine, or this would be entirely the wrong profession for him.

Boone was standing opposite the table of Van der Valk, when the man who he had been informed was Jesse spoke in what was a brutal butchering of the English language. His eyes flicked over to him, his face remaining flat

"Good advice Mr. Dredlen. I'll keep it in mind." Boone said his eyes staying on Jesse for a moment before they fixed back on Van der Valk. He wasn't standing particularly close to the group, standing somewhere in between Sinclair and Jean Martin, facing Van der Valk and Salt. Jean Martin was clearing a very smart man, and could be relied upon for good information, Van der Valk and Salt as well. Sinclair was yet to be determined and this Dredlen was an oaf with a gun.

[Bingellia]

Viviette seemed taken back as Jean-Martin described the description of Doctor Sutherland's wounds. Perkins had described that the farmers had reported dog-like attacks on their livestock, and the news of the other attack meant that, whatever the monster was, it now had a taste for man.

"Battier and I had little luck following our ideas," Viviette said once she had a moment to speak. "The gravediggers in Truvo and St. Austell were both taken back when we told them of the events at the morgue here, but they had seen no disturbed graves. The mortician at St. Austell was similarly incredulous when we had approached him, but also noticed nothing out of the ordinary."

Sighing for a second, she appreciated the warmth of the hotel greatly as she glanced the room over once again. "Mr. Perkins, Sir Tarquin's game-warden, had mentioned that the shepherds had reported that some of their animals had been attacked by what seemed to be a dog or a wolf, but he had neither seen or heard about any creature meeting any possible description of the creature we are looking for."

"With that in mind," she added quickly, "it seems like our monster has only recently acquired a taste for man, so perhaps that eliminates some beast or another from the possibilities."

[Bolslania]

Viviette seemed taken back as Jean-Martin described the description of Doctor Sutherland's wounds. Perkins had described that the farmers had reported dog-like attacks on their livestock, and the news of the other attack meant that, whatever the monster was, it now had a taste for man.

"Battier and I had little luck following our ideas," Viviette said once she had a moment to speak. "The gravediggers in Truvo and St. Austell were both taken back when we told them of the events at the morgue here, but they had seen no disturbed graves. The mortician at St. Austell was similarly incredulous when we had approached him, but also noticed nothing out of the ordinary."

Sighing for a second, she appreciated the warmth of the hotel greatly as she glanced the room over once again. "Mr. Perkins, Sir Tarquin's game-warden, had mentioned that the shepherds had reported that some of their animals had been attacked by what seemed to be a dog or a wolf, but he had neither seen or heard about any creature meeting any possible description of the creature we are looking for."

"With that in mind," she added quickly, "it seems like our monster has only recently acquired a taste for man, so perhaps that eliminates some beast or another from the possibilities."

Boone reached into his pocket and pulled out a notepad. On it he already had the names of all of the Field Operatives of the Order, and physical descriptions, he flipped over to a new page and jotted down both Jean-Martin's and Sinclair's analysis. He looked up from his pad.

"If the death in the Cathedral is at all related, its either a rather large natural creature or it isn't affected by holy ground. The victim was mutilated almost exactly the same as how Mr. Jean-Martin described it. Although I'm not aware of many natural creatures that could do that, save a particularly large dog, or maybe a large feline or bear. What I could tell from my brief analysis was that the arm of the Cathedral victim had definitely been ripped off, as well as the leg. To killings of almost the same nature in two very different locations seems more than coincidence, especially when looking at London's rather crowded nature. So I'm not entirely comfortable with the natural creature deduction, how ever the creature is probably very similar to a large predator." Boone added. His brief readings at the Order library had informed him that there were a select few animals capable of that. He knew he was going to have to earn the Order's cooperation through showing that he wasn't a buffoon and was a competent and useful asset to the organization.

"Inspector Jago, have there been any reports of large animals or maulings in this area recently?" His tone was fixed, but polite.

[Sarderia]

Frank P. Martelli
Of Beasts and Wolves

---

"In my estimation, we are looking for something like a very large dog or wolf. It is extremely strong: it twisted one of the doctor's arms off at the shoulder through torsion force alone. Its jaws are long enough to entirely surround a man's upper arm, and to cut through his abdomen down to the spinal cord. That suggests a fairly pronounced snout, and a size comparable to a Saint-Bernard, or other oversized mastiff. If not larger."

Dear God, Frank subtly gasped. Doctor Sutherland met a particularly bad end, from what Jean-Martin described. "So the sheperds said that their animals has been attacked by dogs and wolves before, but it was just ordinary animals, none of the sort of beast that struck the poor Doctor." He pondered on that thought for a moment. "And, Mr Boone, I think we should stay at academic facts at the moment... not that I want to rule out such possibilities," Frank said, referring to supernatural elements, "but I believe that with proper investigation, perhaps, we could eventually identify what sort of animal that did the attack on Sutherland."

"But, of course, this is very peculiar," he continued. "Based from my observations, Truro is a mining and farming town. It is quite a noticeable center of production as well - this city is by no means some sort of small village that would experience wild wolf haunts roaming free at night. And most importantly, why did this animal chose to attack a mortician, in a hospital no less? Why not the workers or general common people taking a stroll through the streets at night? Surely to insert an oversized mastiff to hospital grounds, without anyone noticing, would be an arduous task. That makes me wonder if Sutherland was ever involved in a shady task or dealing in the past... or if he handles the body of a well-known person as a mortician. Generally anything that could paint him in a bad light for someone."

[Theyra]

Aleyn Deyne

"Not to mention someone has been stealing bodies from the morgue." Aleyn add, after taking a sip from his flask. "It could be that whatever killed Sutherland was the same thing that stole the bodies. Which begs the question, why steal bodies from a morgue only to then kill the poor doctor and that person at the cathedral? Hmm", Aleyn pondered as to what the murderer could be and what the connection is. Something had changed, but what? He had done some research on creatures, both the mundane and supernatural. But, nothing he remembers could be the culprit. "Plus, no one saw any dog or wolf enter or leave the hospital. So unless this barghest can hide from others, I have no clue what could have done this unless this barghest fits the criteria".

Aleyn was tempted to take another sip of his flask but decided against it. He may have needed a sip after the ordeal with Boone. But, now that they needed to figure how what is the killer. Aleyn wish to have a focused mind and not one under a buzz. Though, he wondered why Van der Valk chose to keep Boone around. It seems like a mistake, really but, that is something for another time it seems. Giving Boone one last distrusting look before turning his attention back to the group. If this is not a barghest, then what else could it be? One last thought before going back to pondering. What is this thing, and can they catch it before it strikes again?

[Dyelli Beybi]

Eleanor Martin and Harriet Salt
Eleanor's hand lingered on Jean-Martin's arm for a few moments longer than would have been regarded as seemly in polite society, though Eleanor rationalised that the polite society she lived in for a part of her life with it's chaperones and calling cards was a long-way from life in the Order. There was real danger here and she doubtless any of the society ladies who would, doubtless, frown on her minor act of indiscretion, had ever been in the position where a gallant doctor had leapt to their defence when some brute had threatened to kill them. Some brute that van der Valk had allowed to stay. That was... unexpected and a little alarming.

She shuffled along on the bench seat, pushing her books along the table before glancing up at Jean-Martin again, "Please, Monsiuer, would you sit with me for a while?"

It would have been perfectly reasonable for her to still be upset about the threat and to want the comfort of his presence though in truth, after the initial shock, the fear had subsided; she knew people here, including Jean-Martin, would protect her. She had been looking for an excuse to spend some more time with the good doctor though and the fact that he had jumped to protect her from physical harm had banished any thoughts that he might be anything other than a completely honourable gentleman.

While Eleanor listened to what everyone had to say, her mind had begun to wander towards thoughts which had nothing to do with the deaths in Truro... though Harriet Salt's voice cut through her pleasant day dreaming, "There are documented cases of barghests either turning invisible or incorporeal," Harriet explained, "The one that attacked in Bungay in the 16th century is reported to have appeared inside a locked room and killed two people. There is no reason one couldn't have slipped into Truro hospital. I'd say that the attack on Doctor Sutherland, just a few days before this attack, are too similar to be a coincidence."

"Did anyone smell sulphur?" Eleanor asked, "I believe we are looking at a creature attack but I don't think this creature was a barghest. We have livestock attacks, then missing bodies, then two live people killed. This feels like something building up to larger prey. I would have said it was a corpse-eater, something like a ghoul, but they don't attack livestock." A slight pause. She laid one hand on the top reference book, one finger curling around the wooden front cover as if poised to fling the book open at a moment's notice. Before she did though, she turned her attention to Viviette, "I think we are looking at something that can change shape. Are the livestock attacks ongoing? This could help us pinpoint where the creature is."

[Bingellia]

Viviette Sinclair

---

Before she did though, she turned her attention to Viviette, "I think we are looking at something that can change shape. Are the livestock attacks ongoing? This could help us pinpoint where the creature is."

"The Gamewarden had told us that the livestock attacks had stopped about two weeks ago," Viviette answered. "He believed that some half-rabid beast brought back from the continent was responsible and that some shepherd must have shot it." There was a noticeable curiousity in her eyes as she eyed the Librarian's reference books. For a moment, Viviette wondered how many equally horrific monstrous creatures must there be in the world to justify that tome's existence, let alone the other books Eleanor had brought with her. Though perhaps, part of her hoped, there would be just as much beauty in them as well.

"He had also claimed that attacks were nothing out of the ordinary, but we didn't investigate the farmers on account that we were late getting to the manner," she continued as she turned to Harriet. "Surely they would have mentioned something getting through a locked coup or barn?" She sighed after moment, realizing how ridiculous this entire situation would have sounded to most everyone else. "Though I suppose it is easier to blame some sly fox squeezing through a broken board."

[Sarderia]

Frank P. Martelli
Ghosts Boogaloo

---

Barghests? Ghouls? Something that can change shape? This case was getting more and more interesting as the conversation goes. While he understood that the Order had a particular penchant about supernatural creatures, Frank felt that it was a bit strange for the Order to jump into such explanations, without first considering the possibilities of real animals. Or perhaps, most of all, the intelligence and capability of people to plan a very elaborate murder, as opposed of supernatural causes. But he wanted to entertain this scenario, so he continued through.

"Surely they would have mentioned something getting through a locked coup or barn?" She sighed after moment, realizing how ridiculous this entire situation would have sounded to most everyone else. "Though I suppose it is easier to blame some sly fox squeezing through a broken board."

"Maybe not something, Miss Sinclair," he responded, "maybe it was someone." But then, the possibility of someone deliberately releasing an animal to attack some poor sheperd's flock is just ridiculous. "Perhaps this animal was someone's pet, and perhaps they couldn't afford feeding it a large amount of meat, so they decided to let it off? Then again, it could be a hard issue for exotic pet-owners." But then, he realized, why couldn't the beast be an animal and also a human? It would be more convenient to assume that the human could open the barn while the animal slaughtered the livestock, if all of that was done by a same entity.

"Alright... as ridiculous as this get, I thought of three scenarios. One; the beast is a werewolf. An animal can hardly squeeze through a broken board, but a man can open the gates with ease. Or to find another opening. And if this werewolf is having a personal vendetta against someone, it could possibly answers how it targeted the man in the Church, or as Doctor Sutherland. I am not implying that this is outright deliberate... but surely that's worth considering. Second, a barghest... but I must agree with Miss Martin on this one; this seems too peculiar to be a barghest attack. And the third is perhaps the most normal of all scenarios - perhaps the perpetrator was an animal owned by someone with malicious intent, that happened to know about Sutherland and the man in the Church, and who wanted them to be silenced. Though considering this, there is the livestock attacks... so it's hard to pinpoint the motive."

Frank clasped his hand. "But take my words with a pinch of salt. After all, I'm not the brightest person in the room... I'm hardly an investigator or detective. A gunsmith in a strange situation, that's all..." He reached for his cigar and lighted its tip, before inhaling the smoke of tobacco.

[Bolslania]

Frank P. Martelli
Ghosts Boogaloo

---

Barghests? Ghouls? Something that can change shape? This case was getting more and more interesting as the conversation goes. While he understood that the Order had a particular penchant about supernatural creatures, Frank felt that it was a bit strange for the Order to jump into such explanations, without first considering the possibilities of real animals. Or perhaps, most of all, the intelligence and capability of people to plan a very elaborate murder, as opposed of supernatural causes. But he wanted to entertain this scenario, so he continued through.

"Surely they would have mentioned something getting through a locked coup or barn?" She sighed after moment, realizing how ridiculous this entire situation would have sounded to most everyone else. "Though I suppose it is easier to blame some sly fox squeezing through a broken board."

"Maybe not something, Miss Sinclair," he responded, "maybe it was someone." But then, the possibility of someone deliberately releasing an animal to attack some poor sheperd's flock is just ridiculous. "Perhaps this animal was someone's pet, and perhaps they couldn't afford feeding it a large amount of meat, so they decided to let it off? Then again, it could be a hard issue for exotic pet-owners." But then, he realized, why couldn't the beast be an animal and also a human? It would be more convenient to assume that the human could open the barn while the animal slaughtered the livestock, if all of that was done by a same entity.

"Alright... as ridiculous as this get, I thought of three scenarios. One; the beast is a werewolf. An animal can hardly squeeze through a broken board, but a man can open the gates with ease. Or to find another opening. And if this werewolf is having a personal vendetta against someone, it could possibly answers how it targeted the man in the Church, or as Doctor Sutherland. I am not implying that this is outright deliberate... but surely that's worth considering. Second, a barghest... but I must agree with Miss Martin on this one; this seems too peculiar to be a barghest attack. And the third is perhaps the most normal of all scenarios - perhaps the perpetrator was an animal owned by someone with malicious intent, that happened to know about Sutherland and the man in the Church, and who wanted them to be silenced. Though considering this, there is the livestock attacks... so it's hard to pinpoint the motive."

Frank clasped his hand. "But take my words with a pinch of salt. After all, I'm not the brightest person in the room... I'm hardly an investigator or detective. A gunsmith in a strange situation, that's all..." He reached for his cigar and lighted its tip, before inhaling the smoke of tobacco.

Boone paused for a moment, Martelli had made some good points about the case. He scribbled it down. Flipping back to the page with the names of the members, he wrote the following.

Van der Valk- Cooperative, Tier B
Salt- Cooperative, Tier B
Jean-Martin- Cooperative, Tier C
(Whatever Eleanor's last name is)- Cooperative, Tier C
Martelli- Cooperative, Tier A
Sinclair-Cooperative, Tier A
Dredlen-Uncooperative, Tier A

For the rest, he left blank, there cooperation was to be determined.

"Bit strange for someone to release a Mastiff sized animal though. If someone has the money to own something like that, shouldn't they have the funds to feed it?" He asked of Martelli.

[New Finnish Republic]

Josef Wallner
The Railway Inn

---

"Thank you."

Josef's words of gratitude seemed to do little to impress the elderly cab driver with whom he had riding with for the past several hours. Aside from confirming directions of their destination, the two hadn't spoken a word to one another during the entire trip. Based on the occasional sideways glances he'd seen the man give him on multiple occasions, the reasoning for his driver's cold demeanor could not be any more obvious to him. He could hardly blame the man, given that only handful of weeks had passed since the two men were on opposite sides of the Great War. Josef could only imagine that the man likely had children around his own age and the possibility that they may have not been as fortunate as Josef had been at its conclusion. For all intents and purposes, the driver likely still regarded Josef as a barbarous Hun whom was responsible for the slaughter of so many young men over the last four years. And as for Josef, even though he did his best to conduct himself in a professional manner, he could not help but feel the same sense of hatred towards both the driver and every other Englishman he had encountered ever since he had arrived in this land.

As the cab drove away, Josef gave a quick glance around the street that he had been left in. The cold stares he received from the handful of citizens walking past him made it obvious to him that he stood out amongst them, likely due to the fact that hardly any of the faces he saw were that of men his age. And whether or not they had heard him speak, his appearance clearly defined him as a more Germanic individual, likely leading to many forming the same opinion of him that his cab driver had possessed.

Ignore them, Josef, he thought to himself as he popped the collar on his jacket up in a vain attempt to hide his features. Gripping hard onto his suitcase with his right hand, he reflexively reached with his other towards his left right pocket, feeling the hard lump of the steel flask that resided within. The temptation to grab a hold of it and take a quick sip of the contents within reached his mind, but he quickly discarded the thought as he knew drinking out in the open would only draw more unwanted attention upon himself.

Instead, Josef took a deep breath followed by a slow exhale before walking into the entrance of the inn. Making his way to the front area, he was greeted by the attendant there. Upon speaking, he watched as the man's welcoming smile turned into that of a deep frown, but otherwise was unbothered as he was given a key. Following the sounds of conversation from within, he made his way over to one of the rooms in which he saw what was clearly the group of people he was to meet up with inside.

Standing just outside the sight of the doorway from the hallway, Josef felt his confidence falter for a small moment, and in that moment he reached back towards his pocket and retrieved his flask. Taking a rather large gulp of the burning liquid within, a wince filled Josef's face followed by a sigh of relief as he knew that his nerves would be calmed down momentarily. Tucking it back within the confines of his jacket, he did his best to straighten up his poorly tied tie and made his way into the room, giving the wall next to the entrance a small tap with his knuckle.

"Excuse me, I do not mean to interrupt. I believe that this is the group for..."

Josef's words faltered as he realized that he did not even know the name of those he had been summoned by. Quickly reaching into his other pocket, he retrieved the folded up letter that he had received, displaying it so that those present could see. As he waited for a response, he decided to quickly introduce himself as to avoid suspicion.

"My names is Josef. I do not know why I am here for sure, but I was told that this group is meant to...help others."

His voice was rather quiet, uncertainty clearly present in his words as he scanned across the room. An odd collection of individuals, that much is for sure, he thought as he waited for someone to respond.

[Sarderia]

Frank P. Martelli
Ghosts Boogaloo, pt. 2

---

"Bit strange for someone to release a Mastiff sized animal though. If someone has the money to own something like that, shouldn't they have the funds to feed it?"

"As I said before, Mister Boone, I don't know," Frank answered. "Best I can throw is just some ideas. But if you people saw a merit in the scenarios I've talked about before... then, in my opinion, it wouldn't be totally strange. I knew a New York businessman who's closely acquainted with John Alden Loring... you know, one of the members of good old Teddy Roosevelt's expedition to Africa a while ago. He's a frequent customer in our factory, back in Providence. Him and Loring, they often went into zoological expeditions to Kenya, Bechuanaland, those sorts of places. He's had lion cubs brought home with him, rabid dogs and all sort of beasts, and I doubt he even knew how them animals usually eat or what their habits are. Rich people, that's their problems." He smoked his cigar once again. "Damn, that's a rant. Again, probably this person saw an opportunity to use their beast to dispose of someone... and they won't bother with feeding them."

He stroked his chin for a second. "Good God, I've been talking utter nonsense for the past minute." But before he uttered a word again, the room's door creaked open - revealing the figure of a man, perhaps a soldier (from what Frank could deduce from his appearance).

"My names is Josef. I do not know why I am here for sure, but I was told that this group is meant to...help others."

Frank instead opted to stay silent, letting Van der Valk do the introduction. He gave Josef a sharp, piercing look, indicating suspicion - after all, one cannot be more cautious with the appearance of two unknown strangers in one night. He only hoped that Josef's introduction would turn out better than the past charade with Boone, with the threats and all. But after Josef raised his letter, Frank's expression turned from a sharp stare to a more flat face, indicating that he's somewhat willing to trust the man.