cheilith » Lair » Primogem

Primogem

(#18497942)

Mire Flyer

Familiar

Cerussite Icewarden

Energy: 38/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

25.93 m

Wingspan

15.75 m

Weight

9270.68 kg

Genetics

White
Crystal

Ice
Facet

White
Gembond

Hatchday

Nov 18, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Arcane
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

119

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

Arcane
STR119
AGI8
DEF5
QCK69
INT5
VIT19
MND5

Eliminate
Berserkerx3
Ambushx2

just a casual murder mystery for lore ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Saint Michaels was equal parts a solemn town devoid and lacking in life, as it was a festering hive of activity. Praised highly for ample amusements and superior estates situated in the rolling hills of Skye, the region evolved into a profitable business for tourism. The repartee of the local fishermen’s wives often involved and revolved around matters highly superstitious in nature. Death was a common theme and, in essence, murder a recurring motif. From opening hours, the phone at the local police station buzzed with constant queries and conspiracies entailing hypothetical scenarios that resulted in an abandoned boat floating off the coast.

“Unplug that bloody machine!” Inspector Barnes howled. From when he first arrived, the office had been filled with the infuriating ring of the precinct phone.

“Brighten up, James. I just got a call from the Water Police; they want an experienced officer at the wharf as soon as possible.”

“Why would they need me for a stolen boat or something else routine?”

“They’ll advise you both upon arrival.”

James turned in response to his superior’s words as the Police Chief gestured behind him. “Who are you?”

“It’s an honour to make your acquaintance, Inspector Barnes, I’m Officer William Long. I will be working with you for the remainder of this year and possibly into the conceivable future to gain experience in the field,” the young officer chimed and shook hands with the Inspector.

James cut a disapproving glance at the Police Chief only to receive an honest shrug in return. ‘It is out of my control,’ he seemed to say.

The Inspector turned to look at the officer. “Call me James, I prefer names,” he said through smiling teeth. “Travelling by car would be faster. Meet me at the silver BMW out the back –it’s a late model.”

The inspector and officer duo drove to the wharf. Little was said and nothing was expanded upon apart from the weather and the local football game the night before. A member of the coast guard paced back and forth along the pier until he caught sight of the Inspector’s car and waved them through the slowly building crowd along the shore. He tapped on the glass on the driver’s side to speak his piece. “Glad you could make it, Inspector Barnes. Doctor Herring is waiting for you by the crime scene.” James raised his brows at the mention of a ‘crime scene’ and gestured for William to follow him to meet Phillip Herring.

“James!” Herring called out to his old friend, “Claude gave you a summary of the situation?”

“He didn’t get a chance to unfortunately. Phillip, meet Officer Long. He will be helping with what I assume now is a homicide investigation?”

“Yes, well… The marine police responded to an abandoned boat floating off the coast and towed this beauty into the bay. No one went further than the entrance before it was sealed off as a crime scene. I just happened to be in the area when it all happened. Perks of being the only forensic pathologist in Saint Michaels, no?”

“Could we take a quick look below the deck?” William asked, peeking out from the Inspector’s shadow.

“Naturally. It’s no use asking me for permission, James leads the main act. It was a pleasure meeting you, William. Lovely name. In Old German I believe it translates to ‘strong protector.’” Before Officer Long could reply, the Doctor turned to the Inspector. “I’ll be waiting for the inquest from the coroner. I know you’re not one for idle gossip, so I’ll be leaving you,” he said and winked.

Three people clearly dead with one slumped over the wheel, one on the floor, and the other in the chair of the small yacht. It was completely silent other than the ebb and flow of seawater on the hull and the fenders screeching against the police launch. James knelt down next to the older man on the floor, his eyes frozen in a dazed stare that James knew all too well. The Inspector then proceeded to pat the pockets of the gentleman’s lavish coat as if following a program whirring away in his mind. He studied the body meticulously and then his surroundings, scanning the cabin for any discrepancies. William stood back and stared in awe, seemingly unfazed by the suffocating atmosphere of the deceased. The Inspector then moved to the woman in the chair and made note of her pearl necklace and silver wedding ring before scanning over, who he had now deduced to be, the couple’s son slumped over the wheel. No signs of a struggle, no injuries and nothing seemingly out of place. “Look for documentation, maintenance records, ownership… Anything that could give us a lead.”

William snapped out of his trance. “Right away, Inspector Barnes,” he said to which James raised a single brow and William hurriedly corrected himself, “James.” The word fell out of his mouth unnaturally, but it was a start.

The silence came to be increasingly suffocating as well. “William, could you open a window? I’d like to get a draft flowing through the yacht,” James paused before asking abruptly, “what made you choose Saint Michaels of all places?”

“You, actually,” William replied. James was taken aback and struggled for a response, but his young colleague pounced at the occasion to speak before he could react. “I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases and became the youngest Superintendent in Edinburgh. I also know you've received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and spent a lot of time in bars before moving here.”

“I see you’ve done your homework. So, what's your conclusion?” Though it was now James who didn’t permit William to answer. “Maintenance records! Pushed up against the back wall of the pantry,” the Inspector exclaimed. “Get an evidence bag for me from the car, would you?” William nodded and returned after a short while with a handful of bags and a flushed expression. In that time, the Inspector he came up from the boat to the pier, his fingers pinched the corner of the paper with a tissue as he scanned the document for any clues.

“Lack of upkeep on the old engine could have meant fumes leaked in and the three were poisoned by carbon monoxide.” James looked at William’s confused expression expectantly and sighed before continuing, “it’s a tasteless, colourless, odorless gas. If someone were to be exposed to high levels of it in a poorly ventilated room, they would drop like flies within an hour.”

“So, does that mean it was an accident?”

“We can’t confirm cause of death until we receive the report from Phillip tomorrow.” James smiled as William visually deflated at his statement. “Wait in the car, I’m going to get a breath of fresh nicotine,” the Inspector said and waved away his young colleague.

As James sighed, he exhaled a cloud of his tension and stress. The more important task at hand was to uncover how Doctor Phillip Herring knew William if they had only first met that day. His mind wandered at the thought of tomorrow and the likelihood of what could become the perfect murder.

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need something in second person and abstract? I gotchu ;)

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The first snowfall of the season is forecast for tonight. The sounds of the city hum and reverberate off its skyscraper walls. You take in a deep breath of the icy evening air, it was suffocating, yet it tasted sweet, like a nectar. Frozen in time, you sigh, feeling as idle as a painted figure upon an artist’s canvas.

You notice that the warm glow of the golden sun had seemed to slip just beyond the reach of your grasp and so your eyes drift. You let them drift as your mind drifts. It was a nice view, you remark. Certain nights you’d feel yourself become lost in this maze of mirrors and glass and come here to reflect. You make out the dim shape of another figure across the sea of bright lights in this big city. Their silhouette is backlit by their apartment. A radiant halo seemingly wraps their form, and you feel yourself become a husk, filled with emptiness, or with a sadness that wouldn’t stop. Snow begins to drift from weeping clouds as you feel yourself being swallowed by the city. You look back to the dimmed figure in that tower of mirrors and glass, and hopelessly wonder who they could have been had they never entered this big maze of bright lights. You should be happy and yet there you are, out of reach across that terrifying sea.

The sounds of children playing in the snow causes you to get struck by a moment of sonder as you gaze down. Fatigued, you feel a certain surrender. The surrender would be forgetting yourself, and the cold parks pretending to be warm, and the swings that can't look at the sky on their own. The snow is silent, but you hate the silence. Every week you wait for the rain. Your closest friend visits when it rains, quietly tapping on your balcony window, asking you if you’re doing well. The chilling night causes the tips of your fingers to go numb whilst fallen snowflakes send sparks into your palms. You notice how pale they’ve become in the moonlight. “How long has it been?” you say to the Moon as he peaks through a hole in the night sky, his shining brilliance illuminating the edges of the cityscape. “What is this fear?” His all-seeing gaze draws you in closer. “Why am I so afraid?” There is only silence, there always was. Perhaps your questions will be answered another night.

“You are a shadow.” Your head snaps up towards the Moon as you let out a small gasp. You’ve never heard a voice so ethereal. Beautiful, haunting, like a violin cutting through the night. Were you in the midst of a dream? “How humorous! You called and I answered Little One.”

“What are you?” you ask whilst feeling an intense gaze that takes your breath away.

“I am Man in the Moon and I have heeded your pleas. I shall tell you a tale each night to regain a shard of your lost self. Endure long enough to find light, like light from my Moon, within yourself. And to mend the fragments of your soul, fragile and weary it seems, from fitting into a mold that isn’t shaped to hold all that you are.” You nod in silent agreement at the Moon’s declaration, seemingly caught in a trance by the strength of his moonlight. “Good. Now Listen.

“A dear little girl was born into an ordinary home, to an ordinary mother and father, in a small town by the sea. Her father was a writer, or at least that's what he dreamed he'd be. So when his own dreams didn't pan out, he began to dream for her. But then, she got sick, and was forced to stay inside for an entire year. In that year, she began to worry that she hadn’t lived enough, so she made up a story, a wonderful story filled with the stars and her dreams, a story of the great life she thought she wanted to live, which only made her forget the great life she already had. How she had filled a home with light and joy and promise. And how, even when she was sick, she still gave her parents faith in a miracle. How she reminded them exactly who they were, after they had almost forgotten. So when she knew she was going to go, she was okay, because she'd already lived a great life. A full life. And she was everything she needed to be. Just as she was.”

...

Years pass as you listen to every tale told by Man in the Moon. His voice grew to become your favourite sound and each of his stories felt like a missing piece to an elaborate puzzle within you, sliding into place to make you whole. It could have continued on like this for eternity until one passing night he says, “I will bid you a final farewell after this tale.”

You don’t listen to his story tonight. You listen to the sounds of the city hum and reverberate off its skyscraper walls, and the kids all grown up. Even as the Moon speaks his tale that you long for each night, you don’t listen to a single word. You refuse to accept time passing, or rather you can’t, or don’t dare anymore, to allow for time to pass. For so long, you have lived petrified by change.

After Man in Moon concludes his last story, you feel something deep inside you ruined, and slowly you fill up with an overwhelming sadness, an elusive gaping worry. Will you wait for the rain again? “It will be alright.” His words sound as sweet as they are wistful. You reminisce of the first tale the Moon told and realise that the dimmed figure across the sea of bright lights also listened to his story that night, and with you, as you listened every night. You were never alone. “Do you realise now, Little one?”

You do.

You look at your reflection in that tower of mirrors and glass and notice at the centre of your being is a faint light, a warm and soothing heat. Is it shining from within you? You close your eyes as a bright and burning radiance engulfs you completely. You look up to Man in the Moon, but he is already far, far away. Perhaps he will come again on one summer’s day.

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Exalting Primogem to the service of the Windsinger will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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