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<blockquote data-quote="SolidSnake" data-source="post: 910" data-attributes="member: 102"><p><strong>Meshtar, Jiqui (Lower Realms of Nymbardax): 8th of Blue, 987 ASG</strong> </p><p></p><p>Xenos Taraque hated the fact that he had been replaced, but what bothered him the most was that he was forced to take “suggestions” from a greenhorn like Dezerai. He was certain that the aging investigator was taking great pleasure in his discomfort. Well, he would be the last one laughing when Monsette failed in this assignment! </p><p></p><p>“Is everything ready Sir Taraque,” Monsette asked in a detached voice as he surveyed the map draped over the table. </p><p></p><p>“Yes Monsette, I have positioned my men as you instructed.” </p><p></p><p>“Good. Remember to instruct them as to the nature of this operation. We are to remain anonymous until the killer makes his move. None of the guards are to wear their uniforms or carry blatant weaponry.” </p><p></p><p>“I am not fool Monsette, I heard you the first time!” </p><p></p><p>“I am sure you did…in any event, I also require a bodyguard as I am to tour the scene myself to make sure that everything goes according to plan.” </p><p></p><p>“I know just the man for the job. His name is Samuel Fairheart; he is a recent acquisition for the Knights of Justice. A brilliant swordsman, who has achieved the rank of District Sentinel at the young age of twenty. He will accompany you on your rounds.” <em>And with any luck the murder will find you as you stroll through the streets!</em> </p><p></p><p>Monsette watched the proud Xenos Taraque leave the room. As soon as the Captain of the Watch left, Monsette began to change his clothes. He discarded the priestly robes he was wearing in favor of his tweed pants and silk shirt. While he began assembling his investigation tools, Monsette began to run through the plan again: <em>The killer’s relative position is obvious, but he is no fool. He knew that we would figure him out eventually, so he picked the Warehouse District to make his final kill. I have assigned over half the city Watch to that area, but will they be enough? I could not assign more without troubling the local populous…after all, I might be wrong…no, not this time. I know he will strike there…I know it. Let’s hope that this Samuel Fairheart is not as big a fool as Xenos!</em> </p><p></p><p>As Monsette was completing his preparations for this evening’s excursion, he heard a knock at the door. Calmly, the priest finished placing all of his items in his backpack before he moved to open the door. The young man standing on the other end of the doorway was handsome to say the least. His bright blue eyes were full of passion and virtue; his blonde hair only pronounced his features more angelically. There was an eagerness in his movements and a smile framing his face. </p><p></p><p>“Good evening Monsette Dezerai, my name is Samuel Fairheart. I was assigned to protect you on our mission tonight.” </p><p>“Good evening Brother Fairheart. I am sure you will do an admirable job, as I don’t have to tell you how important and dangerous tonight’s events will be.” </p><p>“Do not fear Monsette, I have been District Sentinel for that area for almost a year now. You are safe in my custody.” </p><p>“I am pleased to hear it…” </p><p></p><p>Monsette’s sentence drifted off as his gaze wondered to the washbasin on his dresser. The light reflecting off of the water was red. Monsette turned his attention towards the heavens directly outside his window. </p><p></p><p>“Is something the matter sir,” Samuel inquired. </p><p>“That’s strange…the moon is…red.” </p><p>“An ill omen.” </p><p>“Omen? You aren’t a superstitious man are you Samuel? I can’t stand ignorance. You realize that the truth comes in many shapes and forms, its just a matter of understanding it. I am sure this is an optical illusion brought upon by the cloud cover…nothing more.” </p><p>“If you say so sir,” Samuel replied uncertainly.</p><p></p><p>The walk to the Warehouse District was; fortunately, boring in nature. Twenty-five square blocks of the district had been sectioned off for various teams to patrol. As this district was sparsely populated, it made the job of patrolling much easier, but vastly more difficult all at once. On the one hand, it would be easier to spot suspicious activity, but on the other hand it would be difficult to note suspicious activity with all of the empty warehouses. Monsette and Sam were not assigned to any one team; instead they were considered a “roving unit,” able to move freely in the secured perimeter. Sam made idle conversation with Monsette during their rounds to ease some of the tension, but Monsette was not very responsive. The investigator’s eyes were always roving…searching for anything out of the ordinary.</p><p></p><p>“Strange isn’t it,” Sam said.</p><p></p><p>Monsette was not even paying attention to what Sam was saying, but the word ‘strange’ snatched him out of his reverie immediately.</p><p></p><p>“What’s strange?” Monsette hissed.</p><p>“Just the fact that we have fog on a night like this. Normally, this time of year, there isn’t enough moisture in the air to produce this kind of weather…strange.”</p><p></p><p>Monsette was about to respond with a patented “don’t-get-superstitious-or-I-will-give-you-a-lecture-on-truth” speech, when he saw a dark shape move through the fog. Motioning for Sam to follow, Monsette led the pair down a deserted alleyway. The alley stopped at a dead end, with only a rotting wooden door to furnish its dilapidated holdings. Monsette’s keen senses were able to detect that the door’s rusted lock had been smashed and part of the door with it. Monsette motioned for Sam to follow him as he approached the portal.</p><p></p><p>“Shouldn’t we go get help first?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it Sam, I’m sure its nothing. If there is a problem, then we can go get help. No use in moving valuable men around for no reason is there?”</p><p>“Well…I suppose not, but I have this bad feeling again.”</p><p>“Sam…this bad feeling is called ‘stress’…everyone has it…even me.”</p><p></p><p>Monsette ended the pep talk with a well-timed smile. Sam wasn’t sure what motivated Sam to follow him after that…the pep talk or duty itself.</p><p></p><p>Carefully pushing in the creaky door, Monsette made his way inside the abandoned warehouse. Aisles and aisles of crates, stacked upon one another, created a small avenue system inside the warehouse itself. Fog had somehow entered the structure through a hole in the wall, because there was a blanket covering the entire floor of the warehouse. Monsette wasn’t sure how to explain this one, but the fog was the last thing to worry about right now. Both Sam and Monsette made their way down one of the aisles slowly and deliberately. Sam had to light a torch, because the visibility in the warehouse was so bad…the light had almost no helpful effects other than to give their position away to a possible enemy. <em>Was it Monsette’s imagination, or was the fog rising higher off of the ground? No…that’s impossible.</em></p><p></p><p>“Over there sir…I think I see something,” Sam said as he pointed at one of the piles of crates. As they approached, Monsette began to make out the shape: it was human body, stapled to the crates. Monsette had heard reports on the killings, but he had never actually witnessed it first hand. He had to control himself in order to prevent from vomiting. It was the same pattern. The victim had been stapled, while living, to a hard surface and his thoracic cavity cut open with a sharp object: a dagger probably. The trauma from the laceration had undoubtedly killed the victim. This one was a Knight of Justice…no doubt one of the men he had sent to patrol the area.</p><p></p><p>“Do you like it,” a voice asked from the darkness.</p><p></p><p>Both men wheeled at the sound, weapons at the ready.</p><p></p><p>“My work,” the voice continued, “do you like it?”</p><p></p><p>“Who are you? Show yourself!”</p><p><em>The fog was rising! What is going on?!</em> </p><p></p><p>A man stepped out from behind a set of crates. He was a middle-aged unkempt human male of average disposition. His wild red hair added to the tinge of madness in his eye, but all of these were details: what was really important was the stained butcher knife in his hand.</p><p></p><p>“Give yourself up, we have you surrounded,” Sam said mechanically.</p><p></p><p>“Fool! The time is upon us! The Darkness will claim you and this world, but my service will give me rewards beyond comprehension. Even now it begins…you are doomed! DOOMED!”</p><p></p><p>With that, the madman began to run away, towards the back of the warehouse. Sam needed no encouragement to pursue the suspect and the fog was increasing rapidly in this place, making visibility nearly impossible. Both Sam and Monsette ran as fast as their legs could carry them.</p><p></p><p><em>That’s strange, shouldn’t we have hit the wall by now?</em></p><p></p><p>Monsette didn’t have time to ponder what was happening; for, as he burst from the mist's embrace he found himself running towards a house. Sam was a few yards in front of him, right on the tail of the suspect. The house was really a mansion, from the construction and the elaborate designs adorning it. It must have been old too from the look of the gothic statues and woodcarvings. Monsette had never seen a mansion like this and he began to question why it was in the middle of a city he knew by heart. He shook these thoughts from his mind as he saw the fleeing suspect enter the house. Lighting ripped through the sky, followed by the sound of thunder. Monsette barely made it inside before the torrential downpour hit.</p><p></p><p>Looking at Sam he could see the confusion in his blue eyes. All of his fears were replaced by new ones as the door he had just entered, closed and locked itself…things were going from bad to worse.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="SolidSnake, post: 910, member: 102"] [b]Meshtar, Jiqui (Lower Realms of Nymbardax): 8th of Blue, 987 ASG[/b] Xenos Taraque hated the fact that he had been replaced, but what bothered him the most was that he was forced to take “suggestions” from a greenhorn like Dezerai. He was certain that the aging investigator was taking great pleasure in his discomfort. Well, he would be the last one laughing when Monsette failed in this assignment! “Is everything ready Sir Taraque,” Monsette asked in a detached voice as he surveyed the map draped over the table. “Yes Monsette, I have positioned my men as you instructed.” “Good. Remember to instruct them as to the nature of this operation. We are to remain anonymous until the killer makes his move. None of the guards are to wear their uniforms or carry blatant weaponry.” “I am not fool Monsette, I heard you the first time!” “I am sure you did…in any event, I also require a bodyguard as I am to tour the scene myself to make sure that everything goes according to plan.” “I know just the man for the job. His name is Samuel Fairheart; he is a recent acquisition for the Knights of Justice. A brilliant swordsman, who has achieved the rank of District Sentinel at the young age of twenty. He will accompany you on your rounds.” [i]And with any luck the murder will find you as you stroll through the streets![/i] Monsette watched the proud Xenos Taraque leave the room. As soon as the Captain of the Watch left, Monsette began to change his clothes. He discarded the priestly robes he was wearing in favor of his tweed pants and silk shirt. While he began assembling his investigation tools, Monsette began to run through the plan again: [i]The killer’s relative position is obvious, but he is no fool. He knew that we would figure him out eventually, so he picked the Warehouse District to make his final kill. I have assigned over half the city Watch to that area, but will they be enough? I could not assign more without troubling the local populous…after all, I might be wrong…no, not this time. I know he will strike there…I know it. Let’s hope that this Samuel Fairheart is not as big a fool as Xenos![/i] As Monsette was completing his preparations for this evening’s excursion, he heard a knock at the door. Calmly, the priest finished placing all of his items in his backpack before he moved to open the door. The young man standing on the other end of the doorway was handsome to say the least. His bright blue eyes were full of passion and virtue; his blonde hair only pronounced his features more angelically. There was an eagerness in his movements and a smile framing his face. “Good evening Monsette Dezerai, my name is Samuel Fairheart. I was assigned to protect you on our mission tonight.” “Good evening Brother Fairheart. I am sure you will do an admirable job, as I don’t have to tell you how important and dangerous tonight’s events will be.” “Do not fear Monsette, I have been District Sentinel for that area for almost a year now. You are safe in my custody.” “I am pleased to hear it…” Monsette’s sentence drifted off as his gaze wondered to the washbasin on his dresser. The light reflecting off of the water was red. Monsette turned his attention towards the heavens directly outside his window. “Is something the matter sir,” Samuel inquired. “That’s strange…the moon is…red.” “An ill omen.” “Omen? You aren’t a superstitious man are you Samuel? I can’t stand ignorance. You realize that the truth comes in many shapes and forms, its just a matter of understanding it. I am sure this is an optical illusion brought upon by the cloud cover…nothing more.” “If you say so sir,” Samuel replied uncertainly. The walk to the Warehouse District was; fortunately, boring in nature. Twenty-five square blocks of the district had been sectioned off for various teams to patrol. As this district was sparsely populated, it made the job of patrolling much easier, but vastly more difficult all at once. On the one hand, it would be easier to spot suspicious activity, but on the other hand it would be difficult to note suspicious activity with all of the empty warehouses. Monsette and Sam were not assigned to any one team; instead they were considered a “roving unit,” able to move freely in the secured perimeter. Sam made idle conversation with Monsette during their rounds to ease some of the tension, but Monsette was not very responsive. The investigator’s eyes were always roving…searching for anything out of the ordinary. “Strange isn’t it,” Sam said. Monsette was not even paying attention to what Sam was saying, but the word ‘strange’ snatched him out of his reverie immediately. “What’s strange?” Monsette hissed. “Just the fact that we have fog on a night like this. Normally, this time of year, there isn’t enough moisture in the air to produce this kind of weather…strange.” Monsette was about to respond with a patented “don’t-get-superstitious-or-I-will-give-you-a-lecture-on-truth” speech, when he saw a dark shape move through the fog. Motioning for Sam to follow, Monsette led the pair down a deserted alleyway. The alley stopped at a dead end, with only a rotting wooden door to furnish its dilapidated holdings. Monsette’s keen senses were able to detect that the door’s rusted lock had been smashed and part of the door with it. Monsette motioned for Sam to follow him as he approached the portal. “Shouldn’t we go get help first?” “Don’t worry about it Sam, I’m sure its nothing. If there is a problem, then we can go get help. No use in moving valuable men around for no reason is there?” “Well…I suppose not, but I have this bad feeling again.” “Sam…this bad feeling is called ‘stress’…everyone has it…even me.” Monsette ended the pep talk with a well-timed smile. Sam wasn’t sure what motivated Sam to follow him after that…the pep talk or duty itself. Carefully pushing in the creaky door, Monsette made his way inside the abandoned warehouse. Aisles and aisles of crates, stacked upon one another, created a small avenue system inside the warehouse itself. Fog had somehow entered the structure through a hole in the wall, because there was a blanket covering the entire floor of the warehouse. Monsette wasn’t sure how to explain this one, but the fog was the last thing to worry about right now. Both Sam and Monsette made their way down one of the aisles slowly and deliberately. Sam had to light a torch, because the visibility in the warehouse was so bad…the light had almost no helpful effects other than to give their position away to a possible enemy. [i]Was it Monsette’s imagination, or was the fog rising higher off of the ground? No…that’s impossible.[/i] “Over there sir…I think I see something,” Sam said as he pointed at one of the piles of crates. As they approached, Monsette began to make out the shape: it was human body, stapled to the crates. Monsette had heard reports on the killings, but he had never actually witnessed it first hand. He had to control himself in order to prevent from vomiting. It was the same pattern. The victim had been stapled, while living, to a hard surface and his thoracic cavity cut open with a sharp object: a dagger probably. The trauma from the laceration had undoubtedly killed the victim. This one was a Knight of Justice…no doubt one of the men he had sent to patrol the area. “Do you like it,” a voice asked from the darkness. Both men wheeled at the sound, weapons at the ready. “My work,” the voice continued, “do you like it?” “Who are you? Show yourself!” [i]The fog was rising! What is going on?![/i] A man stepped out from behind a set of crates. He was a middle-aged unkempt human male of average disposition. His wild red hair added to the tinge of madness in his eye, but all of these were details: what was really important was the stained butcher knife in his hand. “Give yourself up, we have you surrounded,” Sam said mechanically. “Fool! The time is upon us! The Darkness will claim you and this world, but my service will give me rewards beyond comprehension. Even now it begins…you are doomed! DOOMED!” With that, the madman began to run away, towards the back of the warehouse. Sam needed no encouragement to pursue the suspect and the fog was increasing rapidly in this place, making visibility nearly impossible. Both Sam and Monsette ran as fast as their legs could carry them. [i]That’s strange, shouldn’t we have hit the wall by now?[/i] Monsette didn’t have time to ponder what was happening; for, as he burst from the mist's embrace he found himself running towards a house. Sam was a few yards in front of him, right on the tail of the suspect. The house was really a mansion, from the construction and the elaborate designs adorning it. It must have been old too from the look of the gothic statues and woodcarvings. Monsette had never seen a mansion like this and he began to question why it was in the middle of a city he knew by heart. He shook these thoughts from his mind as he saw the fleeing suspect enter the house. Lighting ripped through the sky, followed by the sound of thunder. Monsette barely made it inside before the torrential downpour hit. Looking at Sam he could see the confusion in his blue eyes. All of his fears were replaced by new ones as the door he had just entered, closed and locked itself…things were going from bad to worse. [/QUOTE]
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