T - Greenie, Vyn, Bee

[Greenie]

Pascha waved his hand around the tiny space for a few moments longer before he gave up and closed the doors. It took him a long moment to figure out how to stand up without bumping into Beraht or the nasty dead bodies, and he quickly skipped over and around them and back to the desk before he had a chance to be infected with some nasty dead-causing disease or some'n.

The owl perched his rump on top of the desk and casually began rummaging through the drawers again, mostly to look busy so the strange rat wouldn't decide he would look good with a knife in his head as well.

He drew his hand up to find it suddenly possessing of.. a pepper. What a strange thing to find in a--MUST EAT. Pascha had the pepper shoved into his mouth and swallowed (chewing was clearly unnecessary in this situation) and was quickly staring at his empty hand, rather confused.

Ah well.

He wasn't dead yet... It couldn't be too terrible.

[Nathalia]

The commotion became louder, a thick accent of undefinable origin cutting through the air in anger, the voice of the barkeep's brother in the background and sounding apologetic.

"F'he hell is f'he matter wit' you, Bronan? Did you jus' never see me or what? I was right the bleedin' hell out back!"
"Sir, sorry, Officer. Really, I didn't know anyone had let you in yet, or I would have just-"
"F'he hell are they?"
"They should still be in the room, Officer, if you'll just-."

A wiry form bursts in the door, glaring daggers at the Bird and Rat inside.
"You two!" He barks, voice surprisingly commanding for a skinny little Rat. "Out here, now."

His Cop uniform dignifies him as a man of rank, a Corporal even. Not someone to be messed with if you're not prepared.
Still, he is an Officer of the law...maybe he won't expect anything other than a pitiful surrender?

Once they either moved or...perhaps hadn't, the man glared them down.
"Impersonatin' a Corporal...'s a crime, lads. What were y' trying' to do? Rob f'he bodies? Y'mad? You've got no idea f'he hell's been goin' on today. For all we know, they've been tripped out wiff summat t' kill whoever goes near 'em!"
He looked livid.
"Have y'even gone outside t'day? S'not a picnic out fh'ere!"
Seething, he presents his badge.
"Corporal Rodney of f'he Capital Police force. Tell em what y'were doin' pretendin' t'be me...an' maybe I'll let it slid light."

[Bee]

Wretched noises couldn't stay on the other side of the door, of course. Skinny Rat burst in. Audacity to yell and command. Beraht stayed put when he ordered them out, and returned his glare with a level, uninterested stare.

He was not accustomed to explaining himself and nearly did not. But if this man was on the police force, he might know Sorcha. Might be willing to investigate for her, might have an idea where she was. Potential usefulness kept his head on his shoulders. Beraht's metaphorically. The Rat's literally. "Avington was mistaken. Wouldn't hold his tongue or listen until we saw to the bodies. We saw to them, hoping to be rid of him."

He tilted his head to the side. Prepared to ask the more important question. Might be slightly tricky, as he walked around as a he who was not himself. Immediate safety of rat-suit provided unexpected logistical problem. "I was looking for a friend. Her name is Sorcha. She is on the Force. Do you know where she is?"

[Greenie]

Pascha's posture straightened at the authoritative voice, but he simply stared warily at the.... rat that looked remarkably similar to his Selkie stalker. Shit, he'd accidentally accomplice'd in something terrible, hadn't he? The owl nearly rolled his eyes until he remembered he was staring at a cop.

He slid off the desk, his arms crossed, but leaned against it versus leaving the room. "Do I truly look as if I am impersonating anyone?" He replied sarcastically, gesturing to his wings. How many Tulgey owls did this man know? "I'm here on behalf of His Majesty Aderlass, of Clubs," Pascha stated in possibly the largest white lie he'd ever told. He'd gotten kicked out, after all - using Aderlass' name had to be the least of his offenses.

"As for my business, I was sent specifically to this pub. The reason was left unknown to me." He explained in half-truths, not particularly encouraged to explain himself.

[Nathalia]

Rodney crinkled his nose in mild distaste as the Tulgey spoke.
Effin' Tulgies, never made a lick of sense.
"A missive of my Court." He half-snarled, pulling back the jacket enough to show off his Suit. "Wouldn't have been sent to f'his pub t' snoop around, an' most certainly wouldn't'a been diggin around f'he bodies of victims f'hey didn't have any authority t' deal wit'. Drop f'he damn lies before I have you carted off pal."

He turned to the Rat that had been confused with himself, expecting even more dumbassery and maybe a good old lick of true-blue retard.
Rodney found himself taken slightly aback at the clipped demeanor and well-reasoned tone that issued.
"Oh. Uh, righ', look, boff of you. Come wit' me, will you? Jus' get outta f'he crime scene before you screw anyfing else up."

The Selkie trod alongside him as he pulled the pair out back, the fur on the nape of his neck rising at the question issued.
"Sorcha? An' who, migh' I ask, wants t'know? 'M not jus' gonna give out my Officers information t' any bick on f'he street."
Rodney actually gave the man a small hiss. Sorcha was relatively new, young, and a bit naive. If this random-ass prick thought he was just going to hand her over like the catch of the day, then Rod would give him a good beating he'd not forget in a hurry...
"If you actually have any relation t' her or anythin' speak up or I'll not let on, sir. F'he force doesn't "sell" it's Officers, no matter how much of a fancy y' may have taken t' one of 'em."
This sentence was muttered to the other Rat. If the man had requested her with reason, then embarrassment was completely uncalled for.
He tried to ignore the Owl, walking both outback to the luncheon area of the pub and noticing again the unnerving stillness that had settled over everything outside of the pub...
He wanted these two out of his hair as soon as possible.

This was not a fun evening.

[Bee]

A perplexing crossroads. Down one path, he threw the grey rat against the wall and shook him until the information fell from his split lips. Also perhaps led to police action, detainment, halt of his search. Down the other path, kept trying to be reasonable. Suspected maybe this snarling cretin was deliberately trying to keep him from Sorcha. Followed him to the luncheon area, pondering.

Last chance, he decided, to cooperate. One more dead body on a night like this hardly suspicious. Could change his body so it wasn't even the victim's any more. Could change his own to something not the murderer. Appealing thought. Fixed the rat with a hard look. Hoped he had a decent enough sense of self-preservation to answer correctly. Hoped he didn't.

"She is my friend. I have not heard from her recently. The night is strange." Speck of grime was forcing him to articulate. Should die for that alone. Narrowed his eyes. Felt his control backslide, by inches. "I tire of your arrogance. Where. Is. She."

[Greenie]

Pascha stared at the suit marking dismissively. Was this man a member of the Clubs Court? No. Then why the bloody hell did he care that he was also a Club? Oh, wait, he didn't. His feathers rustled at the rat's tone, and his neck began cranking at an angle few creatures could attain. "Except for the unknown reasons part, you asshole. Like I was bloody well expecting to find filthy rotten bodies ripe for looting, hmm?" He said in a tone that (he felt, anyways) brooked no argument, his wings shifting back and forth as he became agitated.

He subsided some when the man attempted mild pleasantries, but declined to follow with a blank, angry stare. He let the two leave into the main pub area before he gave the bodies one more disgusted grimace, then went to lean in the doorway so he could blatantly eavesdrop on the conversation.

It was probably for the best he had no idea who this Sorcha person was.

[Nathalia]

Rodney ignored the Owl with a disdainful lip-curl.
Bloody overgrown pigeon, probably didn't have half a brain in its head. As soon as he was through with the other Rat, he'd make sure the Tulgey was banned from the place.

The other Rat, however, seemed to have lost his patience for anything resembling niceties.
"I beg you pardon, but like I said; I don't go giving my Officers away t' whoever on f'he streets wants 'em.
I'm sure you understand, sir."

His hand went to his belt, fingers sliding along his loaded crossbow and his mind readying spells...this particular gentleman didn't seem one to mince words, and was apparently stupid enough to think that the force handed over its members with little to no thought.
Friend? Ha, right.
He, Rodney, was friends with Sorcha...to a degree; this piece of scum?
Never seen him, never heard of him, and Sorcha never talked about him.
Fuck it.
No.

"'M afraid you'll have t' deal wiv' it. S'not arrogance, 's a form of protection for our own, you twit."
He let his face drop what was left of the mask and grace the other Rat with a small snarl as he cast two protective spells...just in case.

Protective Circle: This Policeman is able to cast around him a field of protection for a full 45 seconds at will, though it must recharge for two hours after each use. It is impenetrable by any spells ranked 100p or lower and bodies and brute strength are nothing to it and will make no dent.

Borrowed Force: This Policeman is able to borrow a version of his opponents spell for up to two minutes once a week, should he choose. The spell will not work perfectly, but people so rarely seem to expect to have their own spells shot back at them, don't they?


((Well, crap. I never expected Rodney's plot to roll up for Beraht.
Ah, well, I am a woman of my word. I said that all NPC's were fair game in this plot and if Beraht sees fit and is able to destroy Rodney.
Then so be it.
No fear, I remember that our dear Joker is on a normal ticket, so if it gets to nasty I'll cart Rodders off with something, but don't hold back, it would be an insult to Beraht to muzzle him.
I never thought these two would end up with one another. <3
Good luck. <3))

[Bee]

(Do tell me if I'm misinterpreting the way Rod's circle works. XD *ALMOST A TOTAL NOOB AT FIGHTS* Added the drool power to get myself in the habit.)

He let out a low, slow hiss as the cretin spoke, finished speaking. Could call it whatever he wanted, arrogance all the same, cruel bloody-minded deceitful scum. Frustration bubbled into something physical, the corrosive drool he mostly limited to his true form, dripping from the corners of his mouth. People reasonable, they said. Talk to them. Not everything a danger. Some people were good.

Filthy, filthy lies.

Done reasoning. Being difficult, purely for spite, purely for some petty malice, purely for some kind of plot to keep her away. Knew where she was. Probably hiding her. Taunting him about it. No.

He spat a mouthful of saliva at the hateful thing's face, aiming for its eyes, not caring if it melted them, just caring that it burned and distracted, and not a beat later launched himself the short distance to the Rat, claws trained at his throat.

He was stopped short by some invisible force, striking it and falling back, hitting the ground and pulling into a crouch. He didn't spare a second before he whipped around the cretin's body, aiming to try again from the back.

Moderate Ability: He now drools a mildly corosive acid that will make metals and most wooden objects begin to dissolve over the course of an hour. IT also works a little on flesh, dissolving fur, feather, and tough scale, but leaving the flesh underneath unharmed. This makes him able to eat his food whole, only having to hock up clean bones a few hours later.

[Greenie]

Pascha's head bobbed back and forth at the rapid exchange between the two, the feathers on the back of his neck raising as he had the sudden inkling that his personal space was about to be invaded with magic.

Why, why hadn't he followed the nice, stupid man and then escaped the building? If he ran out now he'd be caught in the crossfire.

Suits and Damnations!

He saw the cop throw something unseen down on the floor, looking as if he was about to pull Beraht's vocal cords out with his bare hands, which was quickly followed by Beraht spitting in his face and attempting to body slam him.

"Retreat, stupid bird, retreat!" He muttered to himself, backing back up into the room and shutting the door. He would gladly cosy up with some nasty stabbed corpses for twenty minutes versus get caught in someone else's fight. Rather doubting that the thin, worn door would actually ensure his safety, Pascha backed up to the cubby hole in the event he needed to hide in it.


((I give you full permission to skip the hell out of me until the fight is done unless they blast their way into the room and invade Pascha's safety bubble. <33 Bee, just poke me when I do have to post again if I seem to miss it? :3))