Unspeakable terrors

    This RP is not Redwall related. Please don't start pooting out non-Redwall Related RP's or else the mods will eat our souls. I consorted Kiara before I made this, so I know what's what.

    The dreary rain-slicked streets reflected the lights of the diner. Franklin picked his steak with a fork. He looked at his watch for the upteenth time. The consort was late, and most likely soaked. Frank cut a small chunk from his steak and chewed on it contently. The murder wasn't going to solve itself, he thought. "Would you like a refill, hon?" the waitress asked him. He just nodded and continued on his thought. Third person murdered, same way too. But she was found complete, unlike the rest…

    The entrance to the diner opened up with a ding

  • Johnny entered the diner, his rain-soaked clothes reflecting his inability to purchase an umbrella. Should've listened to the wife about that he thought as his clumsily slipped onto the hard tile floor, his back cracking as his heavyset body crashed into it. Picking himself up, he took off his trenchcoat and sat down at the table across from Franklin. There was a newspaper sitting on his table, his usual at the establishment, and as he started to read the headlines he felt that somebody was watching him.

    Putting it out of his mind, however, he ordered a club soda and a large burger. As the waitress slipped away back to the kitchen he glanced over at Franklin, then back at his menu, then back again. This awkward glancing went on for over a minute, before Johnny actually got up to talk to him. He recognized the man from somewhere, he just couldn't place his finger on it.

  • Franklin hoped that that wasn't his consort, but it seemed to be the guy. He pulled out the folder from his trench coat and flipped trough it again. Yep, it was the same guy. He turned to the soaked guy, then looked back at his meal. Johnny looked back for a bit then ordered his meal. Frank looked through the folder again. This guy was supposed to be part of Frank's ragtag group of detectives, but he already didn't look much the part. Finally, he turned around and took off his fedora, smoothing his hair slightly.

    "So you're Johnny, eh? Well, here's the case file. Look it over while you finish your meal." Frank tossed the file lightly and turned back to his half-eaten steak, not letting the receiver reply. His appetite was lost after seeing the pictures in the file again.

  • Johnny had little warning of the toss, he reached out for the file and missed, sending the files in the file scattering across the floor. Trying to make the best of an awkward situation, he picked up the files again, and sat back down at his table without giving Franklin a reply. Glancing over at Franklin, realization hit him like a bullet I work for this guy. Better let him know I actually acknowledge his existence Johnny was about to get up when he remembered the reason he sat down in the first place. The files. Better take a look at them OH CHIRST! What the heck is this stuff? Just as the waitress plopped his dinner down on the table, Johnny went off to the bathroom to be sick, leaving the files wide open on his desk. An Inquisitive waitress, after seeing Johnny run off, looked at the files, stared for a long, hard, second, and screamed her lungs out.

  • Simon pushed open the door to the diner just as the young waitress began screaming at a photograph she was holding. “Aw, so I suppose I’m in the right place then?” he asked no one in particular with a faint hint of amusement. He stood an unassuming five and a half feet tall with short, styled hair and a thin mustache. A pair of spectacles balanced delicately on his narrow nose, focusing the sight of two sharp brown eyes. He wore a bland looking gray suit over a white shirt and brown tie. He held a leather doctor’s bag in his right hand, while his left held a large black umbrella. He spoke with a slight French accent.

    After maneuvering his umbrella through the door and folding it closed Simon walked over to the counter and set his bag down. Setting the umbrella on the counter beside it he chanced a glance at a file that had landed near his chosen spot. He tilted his head to the side and hummed. It didn’t look so terribly bad. He realized it was upside down then, so he reached out and spun it 180o. He grimaced, “Dear God.” Okay, so maybe it was that terribly bad. The immigrant detective was suddenly glad that he’d brought his special supplies.

    After coming to grips with the images in the file, Simon turned and took a deep, calming breath before walking over to Franklin, adjusting his spectacles as he walked, and held out a hand, “Might I assume you are the man called Franklin? They told me a man named Franklin would be in charge. Also, might that squeamish fellow have been one of ours by any chance?” He glanced briefly over his shoulder, at the bathroom.

  • "That's my name. And I'm not in charge of this, I'm just rounding up the people needed to solve this case." Franklin said. He was a man of average height, about 5 foot 8.  He wore a tan trench coat and dark brown trousers. Under the coat was a white collared shirt and dark blue tie. His hair was ragged and dark brown, and no amount of combing would ever straighten it. Next to him sat a slightly unlocked briefcase and an umbrella. His gloved hands held the image for a brief moment, before putting it back in the folder.

    "Before our queasy companion comes back, here's what I know so far. Whoever did this is a pretty sick bastard, the three murders are all in set points, and we need to go to the City Library in about…" he checked his watch,"... an hour and a half." Frank took his briefcase and opened it again, revealing a series of papers, two books, and a map of the city. On the map was the three areas where the victims were found, making a triangle pointing northeast. "What do you think of that?' he asked his new companion, hoping that someone else would also figure out the pattern.

  • Johnny came out of the bathroom, his face red from embarrassment and green from throwing up. He walked back over to his table, picked up the files without looking at them, and sat back down, surprisingly hungry, even after being sick. That wasn't awkward. That wasn't awkward. That wasn's Awkward he repeated in his mind as he stood up again, knocking his drink over onto his sandwich and shirt, spoiling it instantaneously. That was a waste of 12 bucks he though as he walked back over to Franklin's table. "Your name is Franklin, right? I remember getting a call from you earlier. Sorry about the sickening and the like, but the person that did that is obviously insane. And you are?" He turned to Simon, drink still stained on his shirt.

  • Simon took a look at the map, nudging his glasses a few centimeters up the bridge of his nose. He noted the locations marked on the map and their relative relation to the other murder sites. He traced a triangle between the three sites, then dragged his finger over to the library. A memory came to him, of a young french boy drawing a poorly rendered pirate map after school one day, with a dotted line and an X. "I may not be seeing what you are, Mr. Franklin, but I'd say our homicidal friend is following something. Instructions, or a map like this one, I don't know; but these locations are certainly not random."

    Simon looked up and gave an understanding smile to the queasy man, "My name is Simon Bernard. I am here for the same reason you are monsieur; I want to stop this man who has killed three poor innocents, and have been given the opportunity to do so." He held out a hand, eyes flicking down to his grubby appearance with slight distaste, "A pleasure to meet you."

  • Johnny glanced over to Simon. "Nice to meet you Simon. 'Names Johnny Phillip. Back on the subject of the murders, I think that our madman is more or less triangulating. If" Johnny pointed to one of the points on the map, "This is around 10 blocks to the north, and this" Johnny pointed to another point "Is ten blocks to the east and the other is ten blocks to the west, it seems like this general area is at the center of his little killing triangulation. In fact," Johnny craned his neck onto the map, "It seems that we are in the Exact center of the triangulational murder spree. Any thoughts, gentlemen?" Johnny glanced around at the suddenly darker and more threatening night as a crack of lightning flashed across the night sky around 10 miles to the north.

  • Frank sighed and rubbed his forehead. "No, no, no. It's a PENTAGRAM. Can't you see? Each murder happened in a specific order. The first one" he points to the topmost one, "is slightly to the left. the other two aren't perfectly placed. Here, see?" He pulled out an image of a star within a circle, about the same size of the map. Three points of the star matched the three scenes of the crime. "We're not working with one guy, you see? We're hunting down a CULT. That's why we're going to the library. Come on, let's get moving." Frank dropped a five next to his unfinished meal, closed the briefcase, and briskly walked outside, not waiting for the pair. If he was right, the next sacrifice would be tomorrow at midnight. And he would be ready to stop it.

  • Johnny stared down Franklin as he left the establishment, his eyes tinged red in suppressed rage. Fancy that. I swore the man was triangulating. Without saying another word, Johnny picked up his dinner, left a nickel as tip, and walked out to the street. "You sure that's a pentagram? I'm pretty sure there's a satanist meeting place in the immediate area. If we hit the building before we go to the library, we can get a head start on members of the cult, if it is a cult, and track them down." Hurrying to catch up with Franklin, Johnny rushed off into the night.

  • Simon nodded absently. Now that he knew what to look for it certainly did seem that the library would be the next point on the star. A sense of forboding went through him as he wondered what would happen if these cultists completed their grim work. No time to think of that though; Franklin had gathered up his things and made a beeline for the door and Johnny was scrambling to follow suit.

    The frenchman grabbed his doctor's bag and umbrella and slipped through the door behind Johnny. He snapped his umbrella open to ward off the continued drumbeat of the rain.

    "You sure that's a pentagram? I'm pretty sure there's a satanist meeting place in the immediate area. If we hit the building before we go to the library, we can get a head start on members of the cult, if it is a cult, and track them down."

    Simon matched Johnny's speed and walked beside him, shielding him as well with his umbrella, "I wouldn't be so sure about that Mr. Johnathan. If I were a murderer, or in this case a group of them, I would do everything in my power to stay away from well traveled areas. Stick to the shadows, so to speak. Though I do agree there may be practitioners there that might have information we could use."

  • Johnny glanced over at Simon, "Well, if you want to hit that after the library, it's in an old church basement around 2 blocks to our east. All in all though, the site itself is not well traveled, since the church is abandoned and only homeless people go there to hang themselves. That's why the street cleaners in the area call the place The Gallows. But still, if the library is going to be the site of the murder, we should take the incentive and at least do a little bit of research." Johnny looked back ahead at the blurry figure of Franklin, then turned back to Simon. "I was part of the cult that meets there once, undercover work of course, and I know that they have multiple areas of meeting in the general area." Johnny picked up the pace to catch up with Franklin, the rain-slicked sidewalks still slowing him. "Franklin! Hey! Wait up! I think you're going the wrong way." Johnny caught up with Franklin, his pace upped to a run. Out of breath, he continued. "There's a shortcut through this alley up ahead. Don't go the main roads at this time of night, I've been mugged enough times to know that." Johnny pointed a long finger northwest, towards a menacing-looking alley barred by garbage cans and covered in soot and bullet holes. "Trust me, it's safe."

  • "Nah, I'm fine. The main road is still somewhat lit, and I brought backup." he said, continuing on the main street. Continuing on the road, Frank reached the library slightly longer than if he had taken a shorter route, but he was still there in one piece. At the dimly-lit library, he went to the librarian, his two companions following behind. The aged man led the three around the library. "So, you think this is a cult? What makes you say that?" he asked, walking ahead of the group. "Well, the third victim, as far as we know, was stabbed in the chest. Also there was a vague outline of a circle near the corpse." Franklin replied, looking at the many books in the shelves. The librarian stopped at a small shelf in the walls of books. "Here's the area where we keep the books on the occult. I'll stay here, I must replace some books." he said, before going to the other side of the shelves, sorting out and replacing books. Frank looked at the titles. "Storeys of the Occult", "Cults of the past", and "Satanist Cults" were the three prominent books in the shelf, the rest seeming to be small horror books and novels. "You two pick a book and meet me at the table," he said, taking a seat at a nearby table and taking out a book from his briefcase. He flipped through the pages, reached a spot in the middle of the book, and started to read.

  • Abe had been driving for a good while now, and suspected that he would be running a little late again as usual. He ran a hand through his short, brown hair. He had thrown on a blue suit and a tie before heading out, but regretted not grabbing a coat too after looking at the weather for that evening. He had been contacted by a man named Franklin a few days ago and was asked to help with a murder investigation. Abe had dealt with several cult-related cases in the past, so he certainly wasn't treading any unfamiliar water. Still, if his past run-ins with these types of people were any indication, he much rather would've liked to stay home. He pulled up to the diner, parked, and went inside. He looked around a bit, but there was no sight of Franklin or the others. "Great, late as usual," he muttered to himself as he walked back out to his car. He figured that they'd left and headed off, so he drove around hoping to catch them. By pure luck, he just managed to catch Franklin go into the library. He quickly parked and headed for the library at a brisk pace. He let out an irritated sigh, "Why can't you ever be on time for once?" He walked into the library and immediately started looking for the group. It took him a minute or two, but he soon saw Frank sitting at a table and walked up to the detective, "Abe Brook, I believe you called me. Sorry I'm late, what'd I miss?"

    OOC: Sorry about the confusion earlier, just a misunderstanding that we've got sorted out now. xD

  • OOC: Riiiiight. I'll just assume what you wrote in the chat box is correct, and you arrived at the library after us.

    BIC: Johnny browsed the books carefully, knowing that the one he chose might determine where on the "Team" Franklin would place him. Sorting through the two, he picked none of them, instead eyeing the book the librarian was carrying, "Cults in Your Town: How to best identify Satanist Cults and their Related Killing Methods: A Study into the best ways of forming your own cult: Yes we know this is a long title: The End" The title encompassed the entire cover of the book, it's blood-red letters reflecting off of the black, leather cover.

    "Excuse me sir, can I look at the book that you're holding?" Johnny walked up to the librarian. The librarian handed him the book, and Johnny sat down to read it. The first page was about locations, one of the top ones was a church building. Johnny started to read aloud "Number 3: Church Building. Choosing a church building is easy; just find an abandoned church in your town next to some mystical lines or other mumbo jumbo. Then, for easy access to victims, open the door and the sad and lonely people of your town will come in seeking guidence. Take them to the points listed in figure A" a map of a city showed multiple points in the shape of a pentagram, "and kill them! Then you have your ritual. Happy worshiping." Johnny tore up out of his seat to find Franklin, but turned around to ask the Librarian some questions. To his amazement, the LIbrarian was gone, the books he was to reshelve sitting on the floor of the next killing site.

  • Simon paused in perusing the books entombed within the library to look over his shoulder at Abe, "Good evening Mr. Brook. Simon Bernard at your service. I don't know what the others will have to say but I don't think you have missed much. Some talk without direction; some action without consequence; a minimal amount of bumbling. All told though, I believe we are beginning to make some headway in the research department at least."

    Ahh, the french: always a kind word at the ready.

    Turning back to the bookshelf Simon picked out "Satanism for Lackwits" and just out of curiosity "Soothsaying for the Slow-Minded". He started heading back to the table. Still curious, he shuffled the books so Soothsaing was on top and opened it. On the first page, in big, bold letters, was written WATCH YOUR STEP.


    With a thump, Simon's shoe collided with the stack of books the deceased librarian had dropped. Though he neglected to check because something much more morbid had grabbed his attention, the next page of Soothsaying said OR AT THE VERY LEAST TRY NOT TO GET FOOTPRINTS ALL OVER THE CRIME-SCENE. REALLY, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A PROFESSIONAL.

  • Johnny heard the thump even while he was running. Now completely lost in the maze of the library, he heard a faint shattering of glass, and following the sound, came across a gruesome sight. The librarian was dead on the floor, the carpet stained in his blood. He had been dragged from his previous post, as there was a train of blood. More disturbing was the fact that a pentagram had been carved into the man's face by a large knife that was now laying blade side up on the floor. Broken glass was strewn about the area, and a cold rush of wind greeted Johnny as he inspected the window. The gap the killer had made was too small for a human to pass through. So he must still be in the building. Damn, I was going to ask the librarian some questions. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye Johnny spotted a figure creeping towards him. A LIghtning flash illuminated the figure, as he drew ever closer, knife in hand.

  • Hearing the commotion, Frank got out of his seat and pulled out a revolver, prepared to fight off whoever was disturbing the silence in the library. He sneaked around, looking for the culprit, book in hand. In it, a page showed the dead librarian and words in an odd language. Creeping closer, he could hear the sound of someone tripping over books. They would get it first, he thought, cocking the hammer before walking out of the bookshelves. The scene in front of him was odd indeed. A Cultist, a french doctor, a bad detective, and a dead librarian all near the protection circle, but not quite close enough.

    "Oh, hello mistah deetectiv." the cultist cheerily said, turning his body towards Frank. The figure looked almost, but not quite, human. His, or its, eyes were unusually large, and its skin was a sickeningly pale green. Between its fingers were a slight webbing, and it was now coming towards Frank.

    OOC: it's a Deepoine. click here for more info

  • "Oh, hello mistah deetectiv" Johnny took two steps back as lightning illuminated the humanoid's body. unfolding his Stirling Submachine Gun concealed under his trenchcoat, he stealthily loaded it. As the Deepoine advanced towards Frank, Johnny cocked the weapon. The cultist turned on point, viciously slashing with its large knife. Johnny jumped back, knocking into a stack of books, and accidentally pulled the trigger.

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