Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Lumiena Square

"Three students. Proselytes in a busy area of town. There had to be easier targets."

Detective Jeanne Bonheur folded her arms behind Vernon, her expression as grim as his own. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. "Makes you think they were targeted for a reason."

Briefly, the woman gave him a wan smile. "Detective DuPuis. I'm a fan. Usually, I don't poke my business in Lumiena, but everyone wanted to pin these murders on a couple of crazy Bloodstones. The trail lead me here for further investigation. I'm starting to think everyone was wrong. What do you think?"
 
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Vernon kept looking at the plywood, sliding his hands to his sides, making half-clenched fists. He exhaled out of his nose, turning slightly towards her, head tilted.

"Detective Bonheur," he responded in acknowledgement, tapping his thumb with his ring finger rapidly. He resumed watching the plywood.

"I usually assume someone's wrong when they blame a Bloodstone, crazy or otherwise. Definitely had the strength for it, though."

Still tapping with his fingers, he pointed to the plywood. "One of the vics was thrown from where I am threw the window. Double paned, would've taken a lot of force to do it. But I've never known a Bloodstone to drive someone insane."
 
"Or any other werewolf pack, for that matter. I can't even pin this on the Scions. This doesn't follow the pattern of any crimes we've seen in this area," said Jeanne. She had scanned the area already, found no trace of werewolf hair, saliva, or blood. She wanted to chalk it up to the rain, but there were other suspects.

"I can see a witch driving someone insane, but I don't see a reason for the carnage. They're a quiet bunch. We can narrow this down to a rogue necromancer or dig up something that's not going to be happy to see us."
 
"Witch would be my guess, too, except for the bite marks on the female vic's head," came the man's reply. "It's a lot of trouble for a few randoms. And the blurry shape on the cameras..."

He scratched at the stubble again, finally turning to face her, taking in her appearance with one quick probing glance.

"Are we working this together, Detective?"
 
The woman raised a brow and bit her lips. "Officially? This case is off my hands the second this isn't our werewolf problem. Unofficially..." Jeanne paused, walking up to get a closer look at the plywood with a long frown. "Unofficially, I can't let this go until I"m sure it's nothing worse than our werewolf problem. The church is slacking. You're the only other detective considering the options. So yes, DuPuis," Jeanne declared, holding her hand out to the other detective. "I'd say we're working on this together."
 
DuPuis bared his teeth lightly in response.

"Alright," he responded, then nodded towards her outstretched hand. "I've got a cold, so that isn't such a great idea."

He jerked his thumb behind him, taking a step back. "I'm going to see about our blurry photographs. Whoever or whatever we're dealing with, I think it makes our tech fritz out. We might need more of a background on our vics, too - if this was a witch, I really doubt this was random."
 
Jeanne retreated her hand slowly into her pocket. She gave DuPuis a tight smile, gentle wrinkles showing up at the sides of her mouth. "I'll keep in touch. I'll be going through the files back at the station all night. If there's anything to uncover there, I'll find it, but I fear things will have to get worse before we can unravel the mystery behind this one."

The Vargeras detective tipped her cap at Vernon. "Until next time, Detective. Don't let that cold get the better of you."
 
written by Sentry and Glmstr

Epilogue Books

Coralie lead the two men down the Square, past the crime scenes with hardly a wink, and into a much more pleasant part of the downtown area. She skipped right in front of an old store. She smiled at the sign: Epilogue Books.

"Rather quaint and lovely, isn't it?" smiled Coralie. Ghislain looked at the outside with a rather different expression. His lip lifted up in a sneer. Coralie rolled her eyes at him. "Let's just go inside, then."

"It is, yes, I'm just surprised I never knew about it. Must be a new one, or perhaps the owner moved shop?" Abel peered through one of the windows in the front, trying to make out any books on display.

"Aye, not even two weeks now, if I remember correctly. I was his first customer," Coralie said as she pushed open the door.

There was a sweet jingle of a bell as it opened. "Professor?" she called out with a smile. "Are you here today?"
 
((A copypasta of Epilogue Books, for your edification))
This rather overstocked bookshop boasts volumes on nearly every available surface. A light layer of dust covers some areas, while others seem meticulously cared for. A leather chair sits behind a checkout desk, atop which there is an ancient pull-lever cash register, a large brown sales ledger, and a copy of whatever genre fiction book Philius has decided to indulge during his breaks.

Out on the shop floor, there are numerous tables, most of them sporting one or two small glass cases. Within the one closest the front counter are the following books:
  • Lewis Carroll - Alice In Wonderland (2nd Printing)
  • Winston Chuchill - A History of The English-Speaking Peoples (1st Edition Rebound)
  • Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton - Falconry In The Valley of The Indus (1st Edition)
Volumes like these, some even rarer, seem dispersed among the glass cases seemingly at random and relating not at all to the more common unenclosed books in those sections.

Mismatched wooden chairs are scattered around the shop so that one may have a seat at hand when needed.
 
Epilogue Books

Despite the closed windows and only one open door, when Coralie called on the professor, a chilly breeze swept through the shop and out the door. The air was crisp, dry, and smelled of mountain grasses and blooming heather. Motes of dust danced in intricate patterns before either being swept out past Coralie or settling over the shop once more. Philius stepped out from between two shelves, the gust dying as quickly as it had begun, then swiped a few flakes of white off the shoulder of his waistcoat.

His rather serious expression lit up when he cast his eyes on her. "Ah! Hello again. Lovely to see you."
 
"The feeling is mutual," said Coralie with a grin. "I've brought a few friends today if you don't mind. They're proselytes of the Monastic Order. This is my cousin, Ghislain," she began, gesturing to a rather tall, strapping young man who looked to be the poster boy of the perfect paladin. He flashed a dashing smile to Philius, but it seemed vaguely strained. Practiced.

"And this is Abel. We met today. He seems to have a bit more interest in your reading material than 'Lain does. And everyone, this is Professor Philius."
 
"A pleasure to meet you," the scrawnier proselyte offered a nod to the professor, offering no other words before disappearing into the aisles of books within the store. Almost as if by attraction, Abel found himself deep within the sections that contained the professor's collection of the arcane. Leather-brown eyes glanced over each and every spine, many of the collections ones he already either read or purchased elsewhere, but one in particular caught his attention, not because of its title, but its seeming lack thereof. Instead a gilded relief of a tree lay imprinted on the black leather spine.

Lachapelle carefully plucked the tome from its shelf and peered at a few of the early pages, noticing not only the lack of printer's mark, but also that the tome appeared to be handwritten. The prospect of such a rare collection must have excited him, as he needed to have it. Even in the few moments of looking at it, he couldn't bear leave it here.
 
Rupert was walking down the street, with Jack, his seeing-eye bird, perched on his head. The air was clean and bright, despite the crime he knew was going on. He had sent his bird to scout ahead for anything he might need to do. It was unfortunate what happened at that store. He contiuned his walk. Many people looked at him, the cloth over his eyes. He didn't quite care, for he believed that if they were true people they wouldn't judge based upon appearances.

Because the closer you look, the less you see.

But what is that to a man who couldn't see? To him, he thought that his blindness was a gift to his field. He unpinned his eye from his coat and switched view, looking himself in the face. He saw every small detail, from the small cut on his right earlobe from when he was six and played with a pair of scissors, to the birth mark he had on his neck; A small group of freckles to appear as an upside-down heart. One who's sight was taken away, has better vision than most.

He arrived at the scene and looked over it.

"Interesting." He muttered under his breath.

(Requesting detailed post of scene)
 
The Professor beamed a smile at Coralie.
"Likewise a pleasure to meet all of you. Splendid to see you in again, Miss Coralie. You're looking particularly radiant today. Are any of you seeking anything in particular, or do you simply wish to browse?"
 
"Well," began Coralie, a small blush coming to her face. "I did notice that you had some interesting reading material here last I came. Abel shares my penchant for the study of witchcraft-" She cringed beneath Ghislain's upset glare.

"Study?" he demeaned.

"Oh, you know. Just a curiosity thing," she admitted, keeping her eyes on Philius. "Might you have anything particularly interesting for us?"

With a huff, Ghislain left Coralie's side and wandered over to Abel, glancing at the books he was eyeing.
 
To the inexperienced Ghislain, the tome in Abel's hands would be completely incomprehensible, aside from the occasional picture, but even then the outdated and esoteric imagery was likely little more than pretty pictures for him. The tongue in question was an older form of Lutetian, but in an unusual pigdin with an unknown tongue. After a few moments of letting the proselyte look, Lachapelle slowly closed the tome and glanced up towards his peer.

"Can I help you?"
 
As the proselytes and the young lady visited the bookshop, a rather pallid woman sauntered past. Her wedges thonked loudly on the brick road with every hurried step. She adjusted her tie and swung around the corner, the back of her auburn coat knocking against a streetlamp.

The walk was a brief minute down the street to reach the crime scene. The windows were still boarded up, but the bloodstains had been washed out of the brick. The yellow paper was gone, more than enough detectives had gone by the scene, but Dianne was sure there had been something they missed. She cast her sights on the eerie young man ahead as he came into view.

"Rupert," she called out with a smile. "You got here much earlier than I expected."
 
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Sentry said:
"Rupert," she called out with a smile. "You got here much earlier than I expected."
Click to expand...

Rupert heard a familiar voice and clicked his tongue, signalling to Jack to land on his shoulder. He turned as the Black Crow he grew up landed on his shoulder. He looked at Dianne and smiled. He gave Jack a little pat on the head as he pulled out his Eye Pendant and Attached it to his shirt, near his neck.

"Yes, I did, didn't I... I lost track of time. Needed to get out of the house. I knew I was meeting you here so I decided to get a head start. Not much of one I see." Rupert said, chuckling a bit. Jack cawed a bit a Dianne, a greeting of sorts.
 
"I'm an early bird, myself," replied the animancer. She strode by both figures to look about the scene. "Would you look at this? Someone was hauled through a window. Two were found dead, one turned mad. One had bite marks in her head. All were proselytes. There's a couple saying it was werewolves. Werewolves in the Square. That's the only reason we're able to come out this far," she told the young man. "They don't hang around here much, so people are afraid the gangs may be moving around. Either that, or we have a rogue one running free." Her hands came up to her hips, bony fingers pressing into the fabric of her coat.

"I don't like this."
 
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