Detective Faith, WrA

Random scenarios/posts or pages of his journal will be found here. Thanks for reading!

[detectivefaith]

It was only sex. It wasn’t like it had meant anything. Nothing important, not after Val had left. She was gone by morning; out of the house and off to make her rounds again.

But now her blood was caking over Faith’s hands. Her bleak eyes stared up at him, plastered in fear— they pierced his soul. So blue, with that flaming orange hair all tangled about her georgeous, bruised features…

Earlier in that unforgettable morning, he had been awoken by a pounding knock at the door, as if someone was trying to break it down. With a start, he had gotten himself up and stumbled into some pants. No matter the fact that they were backwards, they served their purpose.

He combed back his disheveled hair and snugged his revolver into the back waistband of his pants, shambling towards the door to open it up and stare at the nothingness that greeted him— until he looked down.

On the topmost step was a sack; burlac, simple and unassuming besides the rust-red smear it left on the cobbles as the elf cautiously lifted it off the floor. It was heavier than he thought it to be— smelled of iron and acrid perfume and smoke.

His heart was racing and twanging with pain as he turned and stepped back inside, to the kitchen. His tired eyes were now wide awake as he stared at the sack.

Bile built in the back of his throat as he undid the twine with quivering hands, the satchel unfurling open to allow the elf a peek inside.

Orange. All he saw was matted, clumped and mangy orange strands of hair… He knew what it was, he knew as he pulled the sack apart further and pushed it to the counter— he knew what he would see.

Her makeup was smudged worse than it had been the previous night, when last Faith saw her. Her lips were bruised and had been bleeding, her nose was crooked out of shape… but it was her, it was. Nailed to her forehead was a hastily scribbled note on yellowed parchment;

“You have enough to pay this whore and not us?”

He left the head, the note, and the sac all lying there as he ran back to his room, bloody hands clawing through his bag as he grabbed his own personal comm.

He couldn’t reign in his voice, everything just spilled out as he opened his mouth. “G-Gale— Gale I need— I need you to come here— now. I’m— I’m in deep shit, Gale, deep, eye-high shit…” Before the other man could respond, he clicked off his comm and slunk back towards the kitchen.

He yanked the bag back over her head, hiding those fearful eyes before he moved to start washing his shaking hands in the sink, looking away from the crimson waters.

[detectivefaith]

Ace’s residence, September 19th, 3:26 AM, year 33.

My sister, the persistent Priest, finally found me. It was a few days ago, and we caught up with each other at the Lion’s Rest. Kuruka is still looking after her, thankfully…

We talked about simple things; mother and father, the hippogryphs, how her time in the city has been, what I’ve been up to.

She worries too much, as I knew she would with all of the city weighing down on her… but she said writing in her journal helps. Recommended I did it as well.

So… here we are.

Maladroit is growing bigger and bigger. The little hatchling, lion, bird thing gryphon is now too big to sleep in my hat, but he still tries. Otherwise he sleeps on my chest, or on my back as if I am a nest.

I don’t know what else to write about.

Valorie is– absent. Has been for a time, now. I don’t know if her drive to wander and roam took her from me or I shuffled her away myself… No use dwelling on it, I guess.

This is just stupid word vomit. I don’t get the point of it.

I still cannot sleep at great lengths. Obviously, by the time I’m writing this. Ace worries- or cares. It’s hard to tell which. Probably both. Big blue has a big, warm heart for everyone he meets.

I just keep tossing and turning and thinking. I guess catching some of these thoughts may prove useful. The- terrors aren’t getting any better. When I do manage to fall asleep, they throttle me back awake and leap out of the nightmare to face me in my room.

I don’t have much else to write. Goodnight, self. Try to get some rest.

[detectivefaith]

The Turkey Terror

The Pig and Whistle, July 14th, 11:15 PM, year 33.

I was attacked in the fowl-est of ways. 

A turkey assaulted me, with no reasoning, or provoking.

I was standing in the Pig and Whistle with Ace, who was offering snacks, as is in his nature to do. 

A very large turkey settled his fat self on the banner in front of me, and began shrieking his turkey shriek at me. When I yelled for him to shut up, he attacked! 

Dark, oily black feathers were everywhere. Talons were at my face. His beak was going for my eyes like cabbage from Ace’s bowl!

Luckily, I only fell back onto the floor and was assisted by Ace grabbing the bird by its sides and hoisting it up, but that devil- that avian cretin! He beaked and pecked and even managed to get my hat off my head! I grabbed it by its neck and started to wring it around, until the beast laid limp in his and I’s hands.

The large Draenei was heartbroken over the appeared death of the beast, and set it on the table as I worked my hat back on and turned my back to it, looking towards Miss Vyvienne and explaining the situation whilst being mocked by one of my coworkers. 

Suddenly, there was a hellish “GABBLE!” that rang through the tavern as a hellish weight was shoved to my back. THE DAMN THING WAS ALIVE! It began to tear at my hair and grab for my hat again, only to once more be wrested up and pulled into Ace’s side. 

Once a mug was placed upon its head, the turkey became rather docile-- but I knew it was merely a ruse! The damn thing was out for blood! 

Miss Vyvienne offered to go back to the office for a chat, and, obviously, I agreed. As I was leaving with her and walking across the bridge to the Dwarven District, I hear three blood-curdling words;

“TURKEY IS LOOSE!”

Obviously, I begin sprinting to the office. I am sad to say I hunkered down in the nearest corner with my dagger drawn and waiting. Good thing, too! After Miss Vyvienne walked in, the turkey was close behind. It flew in while letting lose its haunting war-cry and springing upon me!

What was I to do but defend myself from the third attack?! I stabbed wildly and tried to protect my eyes, and the dreaded beast was letting up! It stumbled and flopped back to the middle of the office, where it laid down and began to die, I had thought...

In reality, it began to molt and change, shedding its feathers and sprouting arms and legs and turning into a nude man! He simply stood up, holding his side, and dismissed himself before anything could truly be done...

A day later, he approached Ace, Ryder and I, fully clothed, and demanded my hat. When I declined, he stole Ace’s bowl and still has not returned it.