”Aye. And it’s yerselves that can be speakin’ easy. Some of us ain’t tha good with the words as you lot.”
"All the best names of groups are given by others - not by the group themselves. Like The Untouchables - they didn't start calling themselves that, other people did because they were incorruptible. So I think we should leave it for now" Abi contributes. "And in fact our official name - The Two-one is pretty catchy as numbers go"
As everyone makes excellent points, Sergeant Salt decides to refrain from talking.
Except to say "I'll have what he's having" trying to catch the bartender before the kitchen closes and indicating the roast beefs.
Better wash you down with a healthy meal. Speaking mentally to her habit as if it were a physical person in the room.
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Eventually as the night drew on, those officers of the law would eventually in some form or way find themselves back home, wither it be to awaiting families, lonely apartments, or simple barracks already filled with those of the guard. Whatever state of you were in, you'd wake up the next morning bright and early, reporting to the precinct.
"Alright, listen up everyone this is a big day so I want everyone one out there showing that Absalom's finest are among the finest law enforcement in the Inner Sea. Now lets get down patrol down," spoke Lavarus a large assemblage of officers in a larger room. A chalk board behind him with planned routes and names of officers and their corresponding IDs. You all stand surrounded by fellow officers, writing down assignments as Lavarus listed them off.
"Group 21, you'll be doing a circuit today. Keep the peace and watch for anything out of the ordinary. This won't be some drunks this time around, large crowds everywhere and plenty trying to use that for cover. You can either take it by starting with Grapetown street or St. Alban, don't matter which. Now get to it, don't waist good time, there be work to be down," he speaks, Sgt. Ollo stands at the door handing out papers to officers and groups on their way out.
The following morning, after a long, somewhat restless night, Greyjay awakens and makes his preparations before reporting for duty. He listens impassively as Lavarus explains their patrol, his bushy brows only slightly furrowed. Hm. Perhaps I have misjudged him. A whole briefing and not one insult. First impressions are hard to change, though... so I'll reserve further judgment until a later time.
Once the briefing is over, he turns to the rest of the squad. "Alright. I suggest we start wherever's closer. Seems as good a place to start as any, 'specially since we don't have a good sense of where the Precipice Quarter's crimes are likely to happen."
"21... 21... "The Blackjacks"... "Hit Me"... "Two Card Split"... "5 Card Charly's"... "Bust"..." back at her small dock-tied boat where our grizzled antihero lays her addled brains upon hard wood under full view of brilliant stars bobbing up and down to the motion of the sea, she tries different teams names having to do with their unit number on her tongue, fondly remembering when her pops used to take her into gambling halls when she was a young pup.
She dreams of riches and glory! Captain of the force! Big breaks in major cases! Perhaps not unlike the fictions her favorite still-wet-behind-the-ear teammate buries her nose into on a daily basis!
And upon morning arriving, shows up not early nor late, but right on time, taking a seat next to Iomar Youbol "Morning, #107", rubbing her temples like trying to smudge out the headache that lingers the night before from the barkeep's cheap brandy. Absalom's Finest - not bad, that. Her daydreaming is cut short by her mate's proposal - which pauses in her brain a second overlong while she mentally repeats what he just said, this time listening for understanding, which comes eventually "Um... Uh yes, good as place to start as any" agreeing with him.
On her way out, after saluting the lieutenant, she grabs the paper from Sgt. Ollo at the door.
"Agreed. Let's do this."
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It's hard to tell what areas might be higher in crime today as there would be plenty of places where one could easily take advantage of the large crowds. Places like Radiant street would be a prime target, but there is a lot of eyes there and most likely a lot of other fellow guards
"I doubt we'll need to go far to find trouble. It always has a tendancy to find me anyway."
The left side of Sergeant Salt's lower face curls just slightly into a self-reflective smirk at the half-elf's remarks, but she holds her tongue for now...
Lore (free): Absalom (*) +4
Lore (free): Detective (*) +4
Lore: Halfling (*) +4
Lore: Labor (*) +4
Religion (*) +7
Abi shows up bright and early to the precinct and listens carefully to the briefing - refraining from interrupting with any questions, not that it seemed like Lavarus was in the habit of answering her questions anyway.
"You bet I'll be keeping a watch for anything out of the ordinary" Abi mutters, eager to prove herself.
Greyjay chuckles dryly at Scarlett. "It always seems to be that way for the Guard, doesn't it?"
"I can't think of any place on our route that's more likely to have issues than others - the only place that is will already have a fair few of our comrades patrolling through it." He adds after a moment's thought. "So then, let's begin. We'll be relying on your senses, Abi."
Gods know mine aren't as sharp as they used to be. Even without the constant battle noises. The veteran sighs inwardly, pushing the clash of steel into the back of his mind.
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You walk through the streets of this newly restored quarter with a relative ease. Many of the buildings, now that you can see them clearly in the daylight are fairly new, many in the new style of building common in Absalom these days with a few buildings still retaining the older charm. Two guards stand flanking a closed off alley, you all read clearly a sign marked "DANGER" as you pass them by.
Approach the guards in order to be aware of things on our beat.
”Hello there. We’re from the Edgewatch. I hope the day is treating ye well. We’re walking this beat and just wantin’ to be knowing what the danger sign is about.”
"Hey Salt. Don't look over, don't want to scare any rabbits. Look over my left hip. See those yellow feathered round hats? They belong to the 42nd Street Yellow Owlbears. And that's not all. Directly behind you in the blue and white... Blue Croc Tears. They usually stay in the Puddles, but they could be looking for marks."
Salt "Don't Looks" behind her and spies the "rabbits"...
...she recalls back across her 27 years on the force, trying to remember if she ever crossed paths with either the 42nd Street Yellow Owlbears and/or the Blue Croc Tears... what was their Modus Operandi?
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One of the guards looks towards Drogyn, "Mornin' there sir, great day for a festival eh?" he responds. He was from the same department as you all, an elf with auburn hair.
His partner, a woman with dark black hair and Kelish look shrugged, "One of the condemned sections sadly. They ain't got a lot of this place all fixed as it should for the fair so the council's decided that it be better to wall off any trouble areas. Took a near year or more just get this street all cleaned up."
”Well, then ye be doin’ good work. I hope ye get some time to enjoy the festival. If ye be needin’ us, holler. We’ll be walkin’ this beat.”
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"As you are," the elf says back as you continue your route.
Grapeton Street
8:15AM
Smoke and profanities rise up from a cluster of food stalls near a small street overlooking Absalom Harbor. The commotion centers on two particularly decrepit booths positioned across from each other, each little more than piles of haphazardly nailed boards, their peripheries scorched and smoldering. Suddenly a clay pot flies across the intervening space, smashing against one of the scorched stalls and splattering flaming oil across several others. One stall clearly reads "Everything Fried" while the other clearly reading "Pelmo's Pickle Hut.
They are clearly two goblin stalls as one, wearing a chef hat slings a jar over at the other, also manned by a goblin before the two come at each other to brawl out on the street, "You steal pickle idea. You no good!" shouts out one.
[b]"It my idea, you bad one!" the other replies as they duke it out in the street.
These pesky goblins better not wreck my boat like last time...
Oh, wonderful.
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Order:
Lavanna
Locke
Goblins
Abi
Scarlet
Greyjay
Both stalls are on fire and a fight between the two chefs rages in the middle of the street.
”Someone get them goblins from burning down any more of Absalom. We need to be putting out the fire on the barrels before they explode!”
Head over to the barrels, attempt to put out the fires using anything available to smother it, including my cloak if nothing else is available.
"You get that one - I'll get this one!" Sergeant Salt barks to the already-getting-it-done dwarf.
She gets in range of the second stall fire, and touching her holy symbol, takes a quick swing from her flask with Besmara's blessing, then spews forth a gout of water, dousing the flames!
◆) Stride
◆◆) Hydraulic Push
Scarlett watches the scene unfold, not really one to jump into fire fighting. So she instead works on crowd control.
"Please folks, let's move aside so the guard can do their work! We don't want anyone hurt here!"
She keeps an eye out for anyone who might use this distraction for nefarious purposes as well.
Drogyn shoots a little side eye smirk and a grunt as he continues his work.
"Alright! That's enough, you two. Break it up. You're causing trouble for everyone out here." Greyjay strides forwards, calling out to the two goblins. "What exactly is the problem here?"
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While a good idea in theory, the water only makes this fire worse as the lit oil continues to burn with potential worse results due to the new mixture. The fire blazes out in a larger array of flame but the barrels still hold.
The two Goblins immediately stop fighting each other and immediately start begging on their knees to the Dwarf, blaming the other "Me so sorry Dwarf man, this one steal idea."
"No, she did, pickle recipe is mine, my only!"
Scarlett will cast prestigidation to try and smother the fire
Abi will look around for some sand or anything else capable of smothering the fire.
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With this new option, Drogyn tries again.
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ROUND 2
Lavanna: Go
Locke: Smothering fire
Abi:Go
Scarlet: Go
Greyjay: Go
The fire goes out with help from Abi's cooking safety knowledge, stopping the fire that threatened blow the barrels of cooking oil. The two Goblins watch as both their booths fall apart as fire burned them to small cinders. A ringing bell could be heard, someone had called the volunteer fire company as horse drawn large water barrel was pulled up and five men and women jumped off to fight the fire, doing their best to smother the fires. They wore long brown coats and gray helmets with with an insignia similar to the badges you wore.
An Osiriani man steps forward to the group, giving a small salute. He was obviously in charge of the fire fighters, "Edgewatch, we'll handle any blazes from here, excellent work."
"Good to see you, and my thanks." Greyjay nods at the fire fighters before looking back at the goblins. "Now, you," he indicates one of the goblins, "say your recipe was stolen. And you," he looks to the other, "say that it isn't. Tell me more. What exactly caused this problem?"
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The two Goblins prostrate themselves, begging that this all an accident. It is very clear and with your own eyes that it was a fight. They both blame each other as well for it to happen as well, both citing the other as instigator. Clearly though both stalls are completely burned to cinders, leaving nothing more than broken charred planks and other cooking utensils and supplies.
"It seems to me that punishment has already come, as both parties have lost their booths. You should both pay for the services of the fire fighters, though. If you cannot pay them now, you will have to be thrown into our cells until you or your families can make restitution."
The facade of bravado breaks - the tiny cracks at it's foundation of feigned strength give way to the inevitability of gravity and pressure - Lavanna Saltspray - who self-styles herself as "Sergeant Salt" - breaks away from her unit in the aftermath, heading back to the precinct...
...arriving shortly, holding her badge in her hand, she slams it on the counter "I quit!" her expression exasperated - teetering on the precipice of an emotional outburst judging by the wavering in the artificial lowered affectation in the pitch of voice "Back to the Puddles for me!"
She breaks away to her locker - - uncaring of any witnesses to her tantrum, and there, sitting on the bench, finally breaks into tears...
"What good am I?" sniffles and bawls "Can't even put out a fire" more sniffles, more bawling "Like it's my first day a rookie" even more sniffles, even more bawling... in fact, at this point words cease to come from her mouth, and her emotionality spirals to a dark place... crying that ugliest of ugly cries, some well within her long untapped finally exploding upon it's release!
"What's going on there? Greyjay andd Drogan, why don't you make sure restitution is paid. Abi - why don't we go see what's going on with Sgt. Salt."
"I agree." Greyjay says after a moment's hesitation, looking down at the goblins with an air of disappointment. "But if I hear that either of you've caused trouble again, it'll be worse, understand? Next time you take issue with someone's recipes, come complain to the courts." The last sentence is gentle.
Drogyn, in goblin…
”Come, let us see if there’n be somethin’ to salvage in these booths. Maybe there be a way for the two of ye to work together in one booth. If there’s nothing to be salvaging, maybe we could be finding enough materials.”
To Greyjay…
”No sure what they’re on about, but let us see if we can do some good while we are waitin’ for them to return. This way we’ll still be in the area if trouble happens. Hopefully it’ll be not too much trouble that we could still handle it.””
"Looks like the sergeant is feeling bad for some reason." Greyjay shrugs slightly as he joins the dwarf in salvaging what they can. "It's good that they're headed after her."
Abi follows Scarlett's suggestion and goes after the older guard, catching up just as Salt enters the precinct.
"You can't quit!" she exclaims. "You haven't told me all the stories of your adventures in The Puddles yet. And if you're quitting - I'd better quit as well - if an experienced guard like you can't make it here what chance do I stand?"
Abi takes a seat next to Lavanna on the bench.
"Seriously, we all make mistakes sometimes, that doesn't mean we're not good at our jobs. Did Alexana Quickfoot quit when her love interest for three books turned out to be the Carmine Killer? Did Rue Greengold quit after their partner was eaten by ghouls? Does my Dad quit when one of his patients doesn't make it?" Abi's voice quivers a little at that last sentence before she continues on resolutely. [b] "No! They don't quit. They get back up and they carry on, because that's what heroes do. And I think that you are a hero too."
Back at the station, Abi and Scarlett's pep talk works...
Blowing furious boogers into a bandana - there is a momentary cessation accompanied with a confused and non-sensical exasperation of "But I don't know who Alexana Quickfoot is!" followed by a final overwash of tears that lasts a good while...
...and with the support of her fellow officers, it looks as though Lavanna Saltspray - her last name now taking on a different connotation! - turns a corner, her nose and cheeks and eyes red with irritation, her sniffling dying down, her breathing returning to normal, the cool cultivated cerebral logic returning to her countenance. She says "I feel better now. Thank you" though a sliver of shame remains in her body, she brushes it off by straightening her effects, throwing the soaked bandana in her locker - #234 - and takes her waterskin and splashes her face - it dawns on her here that the others are across town probably still dealing with the goblins, and she prepares to once again make haste. When she addresses Abi, her voice deepens once more "You did good, kid, following me here. You got heart" then to Scarlett "And wherewithal" if there is an apology, it isn't spoken, perhaps instead remembered, but certainly acted upon "We should catch back up with #107 and #145" placing her hand back upon her rapier.
"Lead the way, detectives!"
...for Sergeant Salt returns, and presuming to regain her posture over the situation, sidles up next to Locke "All good here?" hoping to, more or less, pick up where she left off.
Abi is even more shocked at Salt's admission that she has never heard of Alexana Quickfoot (the heroine of her favourite series of detective stories) than at her attempted resignation. Unless prevented Abi will spend the entire walk back to the others explaining exactly who Alexana Quickfoot is and will attempt to provide spoiler free summaries of her 21 (and counting) serialised adventures.
From the explanation, Alexana appears your typical pulp crime novel heroine, with the sort of inconsistent characterization that suggests multiple authors and uncertainty as to who the core audience of the books is.