01-09-2018, 04:58 PM
Carmelita huffed as she stood in the shadows of a bar, eyeing up each patron as they entered. After returning with the hostages liberated from the Silver Hand, she'd been swift to ask for a meeting with a Guardsman high-ranked enough to discuss her proposal. Upon being denied, she'd decided to try and get their attention with a few more displays of Interpol's finest at work.
That had been a month ago. She'd caught a few thieves, and received a slap on the wrist for doing a guard's work without permission. She'd brought in a list of criminals she'd staked out, only to be told that the majority had died in a brutal gang fight two hours earlier, and that the rest had fled the city. She'd even tried to curry favor with one of the nearby duchies, only to be turned away in favor of a 'more experienced' human detective.
That led her here. She would have given up and left by now, had she not stumbled across a recently used dead drop. Someone had fastened a package to the underside of a bench in an out of the way park in one of the non-human parts of Minas Tirith, and the freshly torn tape had given her a clue. Following that, it had been as simple as asking the groundsman, a spry old squirrel by the name of J'kotter, for descriptions of the last few people to pass by. One of them had been a quadrupedal pony with a scarred eye, a blue mane and tail and an azure coat, the other a seemingly human man whose face was hidden behind a blue mask and wearing a guards uniform.
And that, followed by a little subtle questioning and a few quick words, led her to this bar, hopefully to find out who these two were and what they were communicating straight from the horses mouth, ignoring the pun. So far, no dice. Winged bipeds, a dwarf, a couple of elves, and a centaur, but not a hint of the supposed patron Black Hoof, the scarred eyed pony of blue and azure who came in, supposedly as regular as clockwork, in order to drink a couple of pints of cider and buy a few cubes of salt. Carmelita shuffled the cloak tighter around herself, settling in to wait all night if she had to.
That had been a month ago. She'd caught a few thieves, and received a slap on the wrist for doing a guard's work without permission. She'd brought in a list of criminals she'd staked out, only to be told that the majority had died in a brutal gang fight two hours earlier, and that the rest had fled the city. She'd even tried to curry favor with one of the nearby duchies, only to be turned away in favor of a 'more experienced' human detective.
That led her here. She would have given up and left by now, had she not stumbled across a recently used dead drop. Someone had fastened a package to the underside of a bench in an out of the way park in one of the non-human parts of Minas Tirith, and the freshly torn tape had given her a clue. Following that, it had been as simple as asking the groundsman, a spry old squirrel by the name of J'kotter, for descriptions of the last few people to pass by. One of them had been a quadrupedal pony with a scarred eye, a blue mane and tail and an azure coat, the other a seemingly human man whose face was hidden behind a blue mask and wearing a guards uniform.
And that, followed by a little subtle questioning and a few quick words, led her to this bar, hopefully to find out who these two were and what they were communicating straight from the horses mouth, ignoring the pun. So far, no dice. Winged bipeds, a dwarf, a couple of elves, and a centaur, but not a hint of the supposed patron Black Hoof, the scarred eyed pony of blue and azure who came in, supposedly as regular as clockwork, in order to drink a couple of pints of cider and buy a few cubes of salt. Carmelita shuffled the cloak tighter around herself, settling in to wait all night if she had to.