Take a Number

Watch Constables' Lodge, Afternoon

A blusteringly cold day outside makes the entrance of the headquarters packed with Watchmen drawing their breaks out as much as possible before getting back to their beat. The bored secretary at the front desk is flipping slowly through papers as a man in a grey overcoat sighs deeply. "Miss Bell. Please, just a five minute meeting with the Sergeant on duty."

The secretary, a bushy haired lucht woman, licks a quill tip and dips it in an inkwell. "Sorry Mister Retzner, rules are rules. You get 'im when he pops out. No sooner nor later. Ain't Watchman no more, ain't get the specials."

Retzner pinches his brow, sighing. "I know, Miss Bell. Just... can you send a message along?"

"Take a number," she gestures vaguely to a stack of papers on her desk, with a sign in Trade that says 'take one' in front of it.

The man sighs, bids her a good day, and takes a number to sit down in the waiting room beside a black haired teen girl reading a book. She peers at him, tilts her head.

"We'll be here a bit, Cinny. Sorry."

Cinny shrugs before delving back into her tome.

There was common, and then there was the crime of the commons. Or in the pile of rag's case that had slowly slid into the headquarters, the crime of wearing too many similar cloaks all over each other and each other. It was a true banquet of cloth, fabric and raggery.

The subtly shuffling figure barely stood out as it weaved with the crowd milling about, moving in the room but not really moving anywhere. Just tailing one person, standing behind a group of others, occasionally fitting a helmet in the corner.

All for their corvid owner, Crik, to plan their next move in plain sight.

Perhaps pursuing legal avenues of information was the correct course of action, which Reithak was trying to implore on hopefully impressionable corvids. The large egalrin was just as out of place as usual was they brush off their hat and jacket upon stepping inside and taking a seat. Or a pair of seats, spun around and leaned over. "Hey Warrick, what's the word on the street?" They hum.

Warrick heavily sighs, crossing his legs as his knee bounces in wait. Him being called out gets his attention, head tilting upwards. Gods, were egalrin always that tall? "Reithak." He holds up a piece of paper with the number '36' on it.

The receptionist calls out, "Number five."

"I don't know yet. You come here to do the same thing?" he inquires of the egalrin.

The ragged raggery goes unnoticed with how busy the place is. Save for a curious teen peering over book, slate eyes tracking the mess. Cinny slides out of her chair, creeping over to the mass with her tome in hand. Glancing back to her father to see he's occupied, she turns back to whisper. "What are we doing?"

Number five? Number five. Crik instinctively reaches into his cloak to figure out and - hold on, it was not that number. He raises his head, looking up at the ceiling, as he takes few steps after the mass of people shuffling about.

Dark eyes peer around the place - then suddenly freeze as his eyes snap to something in the distance. "Hunting." The corvid replies with a low, thrumming bass of his to Cinny. "The most glorious of trophies."

Slowly, the creepy mass of cloth huddles closer towards its prey, a beautiful slice of parchment with a number on it.

"Me? Yes and no, I'm here because someone else is here, but yes, I was hoping to get more information about recent events." The large egalrin nods slowly to Warrick. "Any information yet?"

Reithak squints, and the inquisitor sighs. "Crik, just what is going through your mind this time?"

Cinny grins, looking off where Crik was focused on. "What are you- oooh..!" she whispers back, stifling a giggle with her hand as she backs away. Not wanting to foil whatever Crik was doing.

Warrick raises a brow. "Nothing yet. Working on it right now. Uh, who else are you here for--"

He looks over. Finds his daughter, then finds Crik. A heavy sigh escapes him. "I never know," he murmurs to Reithak. Crik's mind is an enigma.

GAME: Crik rolls sleight of hand: (6)+10: 16

Crik slides. Crik slithers. Crik walks like a regular person. Crik also reaches around and... with a deft twist of his fingers, attempts to snag up one of the pieces of parchments with the most valuable numbers in this place where time goes to die.

"Something you are looking for young man?" An elderly person asks, turning to look towards Crik with squinting eyes.

And so the great thief misses.

"Oh, I've got an idea, I just really hope that I'm wrong." Reithak sighs exasperatedly. The large egalrin leaves their seat. The egalrin strides over, and grabs several layers of robes where Crik's neck might be. "Oh, don't mind him, he's not used to these offices." Reithak apologizes. "Let's head back and grab a seat."

GAME: Warrick rolls perception: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)

Warrick watches Crik with a careful eye, but the mass of cloaks and rags makes it difficult to see what was going on. He rubs his eyes, praying silently to Serriel he wasn't getting floaters in them already.

He looks back, seeing Reithak attempt to get them by the scruff. Another sigh escapes him. "... I don't even want to know," he holds up a hand.

Cinny's head cranes up as Reithak steps forth. Up, up, up... Wide eyed. That's a tall bird!

"Huh?" Crik says, turning to look towards Reithak. Then back at the old person and then -"CAW!" The corvid lets out, wings attempting to flutter under the rags, as he is 'guided' towards the seats.

"... but the number, it is staking its escape!" Crik protests, before he is settled on a seat. "Greetings, Warrick." He then says, with a sudden serene voice. "And what are you doing here?"

"You already have a number, right? If you lost it, then you can take another one from the desk and wait." Reithak hums, Finishing half dragging Crik away and letting go with a sigh. "What's the rush anyways?"

The large egalrin does stop and wave to Cinny once, before taking a seat again. "You're welcome to some of my knitting supplies if you're feeling antsy Crik."

Warrick slowly blinks at the esoteric avian. "Hello Crik. I am waiting patiently to see if I can get more information about the thing we are doing. And /not/ trying to skip the line like a civilized person."

Cinny waves back, grinning at the elegantly dressed Egalrin. She starts to return to her seat, but she pauses by a chair, peering at the floor next to some Watchmen. Briefly she stoops to pick up something, then walks on by. Sits. Opens her book on her lap. And passes something off to Crik under the covers into the rag pile.

It's a boot-dirt stamped '13'.

GAME: Crik rolls perception: (17)+11: 28

"Desk? There was a desk?" Crik asks, twisting his head between Reithak and Warrick. "No, what was happening was that there would be commotion and chaos-" He starts to explain his natural master plan, "And then there would be a brief pause and opening," He continues - then pauses for a second.

"... as I look for my number." He guickly glances at the paper, before slowly handing it over to Warrick. As he leans over, he quietly whispers to Cinny, 'How did you do that?'

"Yes, there was a desk where you take a number. You are aware of that, since you were looking for a number, right." Reithak huffs, taking a seat again and shaking her head. "Waiting patiently, of course! I don't want to have to tell Slixvah about anything going on here anyways, so that's the best course of action."

Warrick simply points at the receptionist's desk at the other end of the busy room. He eyes the shown paper, looking quizzical for a moment before seemingly picking apart context clues. He doesn't comment.

Cinny grins, hiding her freckled face behind her book. Seems to be about some kind of plants. 'I just know where to look!' she whispers back. 'Been here a lot!'

The father either doesn't hear it, or opts to ignore it. "This is Cynthia, my daughter. Cinny, this is Crik and Reithak. Some-"

"Adventurers!" Cynthia grins.

".. colleagues, yes."

Crik stares at Warrick and Reithak, before slowly turning towards Cinny. 'I check the pockets, first.' He tells the girl, like any reasonable adult being would not do. 'I will try looking next time.'.

Then right back up at attention, and with black eyes darting around the room, he tilts his head at Reithak. "Why don't you want to tell Slixvah? Is she in trouble again?" Then he keeps offering the number to the two adults in the room. "That's a nice looking book. Ever read one about dungeons?" He holds up his arm, with a very well leafed through pamphlet hanging off it.

... then something slowly dawns on Crik. "What were the Twilight... Filch... Finches..." He looks at Reithak. "... looking for here again?"

"Yeah, we're working with Warrick here, hoping to get some information." Reithak nods. "Adventurers, colleagues, something like that."

"No, she's not in trouble, I just don't want to be a snitch and tell her you thought stealing from an old lady was a good idea." The large egalrin points out quietly. "Hopefully finding some reports or information. Good find on that note by the way!"

'Check the floor first,' Cinny whispers back in a counter. 'Besides, I wouldn't check pockets in the guard's headquarters.'

Cynthia grins back up at Crik. "Yeah! It's about herbs. I have read about- ooh!" she croons, looking at the pamphlet. "Isn't that what they give you at the Explorer's guild when you sign up?"

Warrick pans his head to and fro between both egalrin, a brow quirked. "... please don't steal from the elderly," the man flatly says, and quietly. "Like I said Crik, we may be on good terms for you saving my rear, but I can't just sit here and see you do something egregious and I see it-" THUNK! "... ow."

Cynthia pulls her weapon back from her father's dome: the closed book. "Tone it down, dad. Serriel's grace, it's just a piece of paper."

Crik slowly unfolds the pamphlet from the string it was hanging from, and hands it to Cinny. It was very well leafed through and carefully annotated. And yes, it was exactly the pamphlet the Guild gives. "Remember to not peer too deep into the darkness." Beak open.

Then Warrick gets hit, and Crik looks back and forth in panic. "Borrowing! We were in a rush." He twitches, then settles onto his seat. "... let us talk about the information we are going to ask for." He suggests instead, then looks towards Cinny. "What should our group name be?"

Reithak shrugs and takes out a ball of wool and a couple of needles. A pause, and a wince as Warrick is bonked. "Yeah, that's enough about this for now, it's done with." They agree. "I figured we were going to ask about any claims made, things like that. We did want to get some ideas for a name for us, too, and since you're the leader Warrick, figured you should have some input, right?"

Cynthia giggles, taking the pamphlet to thumb through. Giggling once more at the notes before handing it back. "Yes, bring a torch if you do...!"

Warrick rubs his face. "We have time, Crik. There is no rush. But, very well. We can figure out what to ask." There's a nod towards Reithak. "Claims, as well see if we can see any public facing reports."

He blinks. "I... didn't realize I was helming this, but... very well. I.... don't think we really need a name-?"

"The Consortium! O-Or.. The Phoenix Crew! Maybe... T-The Swords of Truth!"

The father sighs. "... I think we can work Phoenix in there..." he concedes.

"Number six!"

-End Scene-