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Messages - Oisín

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Cormac manages not to punch the seedy little fucker but he feels something snap inside him. He'd snapped at a guy for a momentary pause, even as he was offered a small fortune. This bastard, he wanted to punch but he didn't. He couldn't. And he didn't know why.

He took a deep breath and felt himself just crack a little bit more inside.

[Mark 1 Crack]

After a few moments, Blood took a pen and scribbled three names and addresses onto a page.

"Jane Willson - n. 21 Fitzwilliam
Laura Fauntaine - n. 4 Upper Mound Street
Amy Hafner- n. 16 Leeson Street"

"I ask that you do not upset either the ladies nor the good gentlemen of these houses," Blood stated, "Perhaps leave Quirk to something else. He has changed a great deal since he left; his reputation painted the portrait of a very different man."


Nothing obvious really appeared necessarily interesting initially to Colin, until he noticed a waste paper bin. The maid had left a lot of things in this bin, including half finished food. But it occured to Colin in that moment that it might be the perfect place to hide a secrets might be hidded. You tear through the trash, careful that none fall out, and manage to see a crumbled up sheet of paper.

Cormac sees his partner tearing through a trash can. He remembers all of the things that the bastard has done, his slimy desperation and small betrayals. This is another power game for him. He can't believe that Colin led into another one of his games. In the core of his being, Cormac just wanted to punch the bastard for dragging him back into this garbage.

"I can say honestly," Blood looked into his tea and said, "I can't imagine anyone who would kidnap Eliza. Especially not for money."

He looked over at the priest, "I can give you the names and address of her friends, however, if that might be help, providing you can ensure that your friend doesn't bark at them as well."

"You will calm your friend down if you want another word from me," Blood replied in a stern tone, "I'm not about to give a thousand two hundred pounds stirling to men who will treat me with such disrespect in my own home."

There is a couple moments of silence until Shaemus' question shakes the Colonel to his senses

"It is a rather personal question," Blood replied with a bit of a glare at Cormac, "You will excuse me if I did not feel so inclined as to give my life story in hopes that some name might be of use. As I had stated, there are some militias who are aware of me; I recruited in Dublin during the great war. I also have some rivalries within the force. There have been some irksome gentry and tea circles here and there bothering me to support particular social causes or do my part for the Queen in this, hoping my name will mean something to them. Nothing which constituted harrassment or blackmail from any party. None of this would be resolved by the monetary gain which the note stipulates. Without any clue outside of that, I'm hardly supposed to narrow the whole affair down enough to give you a brief list of anyone who's been slightly annoyed by me."

His eyes show a glimmer of fear at the word "enemies"

"I suspect Jameson has the right idea on the matter; anyone who might constitute an enemy would be so more for ideological reasons than otherwise. I am a career army man and I have always dealt with affairs in a gentlemanly manner. However, I also stand by my views and some members of certain radical republican militia groups may imagine me as their enemy."

He pauses for a moment, "However, there is a rather notable lack of ideological grand standing or anything of the sort, which makes me suspect that it might just be someone trying to take advantage of the confusion that law enforcement is in with the recent troubes. The sharpeyed villain, whom you mention."

"There has been no blackmail or harrassment prior to this," He continued, "As to Eliza, she's an examplary daughter with no enemies nor jilted suitors to speak of; She's been dating a young man by the name of Arthur Finnegan for some time now. A letter has been sent to him about this, though he is currently on vacation in Wales."

"Eliza was having an evening out with a couple friends at Temple bar," He replies, "It was ten days prior. She was separated from her friends around midnight, according to their accounts. I recieved this three days later."

He holds out a ransom note and places it on the table.

"You can see now why I had stressed that your arrival today was so urgent; the ransom is due tonight and would cost me most of my estate to pay. If you can investigate this matter and ensure her safe arrival, I would be most grateful."

The letter was brief, written out by a type writer and detailing the time of 11 PM tonight as the time for the exchange.

"If you save me the ransom, I can give you each the full price promised. If not, we may discuss the price due afterwards upon the safe return of my Elizabeth."

By the third knock, someone was already by the door.

Colin and the others were greeted by the Colonel himself, in a rather heavy looking Persian overcoat. Though he was almost entirely grey with his hair combed mostly back, he maintained a remarkable look of youthful determination and a strong rather square build to back this up. He had on him as well a moustache to rival Murphy's.

"Come in," he said, "We have rather serious matters to attend to."

He led them into a study wherein tea had already been laid out for them with some biscuits. It was, like the house, a model of the room one makes when they do not understand the current fashion but do not wish to appear out of place: Everything was simple, of decent quality but clearly there more so that it would appear proper rather than of personal taste. However, what stood out in the room was the volume of military artificats; Battalion markings and covers, a peaked cap as well as a Pith Helmet. One might also have remarked on the Persian rugs, one which sat beneath the table and another on stairs. The most unique element however, was perhaps the Zulu shield on the wall behind which lay two crossed spears.

"I am aware that this is rather... strange affair, all things stated. But I shall allow you to ask your own questions about it rather than trying restate what you have already read."

He looked over the group somewhat apprehensively, awaiting a response.

As Cormac speaks of Fiona, his eyes get a bit wilder and some sweat runs down his face. His exhaustion is almost palatable to his companions and his ramblings sound half mad. Aside from that, it's hard to hear a man call your sister "a symbol" than a person or that it wasn't "meaningful"; she loved that bastard for all his flaws.

Colin realizes that they know he's snooping. He breaks into a cold sweat looking at both of then and everything in him wants to flee; but the promise of 250 pounds is too much to run away from.

He feels compelled to say something to excuse himself, even if he would only be digging himself deeper... Silence simply wouldn't do. They wouldn't trust him; he'd be exiled from the group and left to fend for himself. He'd be where he was at his lowest before even getting the chance to redeem himself.

[Mark 1 Crack, Jomon]

Murphy and Cormac notice a fellow who seems to be spying on them and an approaching man who appears to be a priest who is clutching a letter similar to friend own. There's also a handful of people wandering around, including a constable, though they aren't of much interest to him.

Otherwise, the house seems relatively unnotable except that it has some regimental colours in the top window.

The light of the sun peaks out through the clouds, which though dark are scattered enough to see some blue between them. A light rain falls down on you, a gentle shower which will pass momentarily.

You stand outside of a Georgian apartment at the address given; 671, Marrion Square. The Address of a Colonel Binton Blood.

You can see from where you stand, St Stephen's Green, where not so long ago the Easter Rising took place. For now, the guns have fallen silent over Dublin, save the occaisional bit of violence. Still, you can feel the war and tension in the silent February streets, as the Grafton streets are silent.

You hold the letter which detailed this address and look towards the door. It is imposing but the knocker lies before you; you can find the matter that the whole letter was written for.

Or you can wait for the other ones writteh in the old address; which detailed the names of many old friends and foes alike.

You pause for a moment to consider before taking the final step.

General Chaos / Re: Introduction
« on: June 23, 2014, 02:22:47 PM »
Hey, I'm just arrived.

I was recommended by a friend when I needed a host for a play-by-post invitational and he's cleared it with the higher ups, I'm told.

So I've been pushed in here to say hello.

I believe I've been loosely affiliated with some of the stuff he may or may not run on here but otherwise, I'm mostly popping by. It's been a while since I've been on the forum but I'll do my best to be a good guest and maybe even forumite.

The captchas here will eventually drive me insane though.

Until then, cheers all & all the best.

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