RP: A Lil Wolf Watchin'

(This never did get finished, but scouting is scouting - and so is identity fraud)

That Jail Des was held in, totes

Desparrow | The jail was still in the process of reconstruction, though some of the cells had been repaired enough to be usable while the others were left alone. Most of the ash had been removed and the walls washed so that it was semi-presentable to the public, and not toxic to their air. A couple of guards stand just inside the door while a sheriff sits at a desk dawdling with not a care in the world. A couple of petty criminals were sitting in one of the cells a bit bruised, probably just drunks that had started a fight at the bar. Rumours had spoken of Desparrow being held here, but he was nowhere to be seen though a couple could be seen coming up from the cellar holding each other. A man with his arms around a woman, presumably his wife as she cried while he looked on with anger as he guided her out of the building with not a word to the sheriff or the guards. The sheriff however as they passed his desk gained a smug grin and chuckled, thinking he'd go and check in on the prisoner later just to see the damage.

Ina, despite her altogether questionable means of making a living, hadn't paid a visit to any of the Jails of late. Suffice it to say, the fact that the jail was looking a bit battered wasn't a detail that was lost on Ina, all the same- though she had not really gotten wind of any mishap or recent disasters. “..S'what I get for actin' on larks, I guess.” The mutters are meant for no one in particular, but between that, and the snappy pants, white dress shirt, black vest and tie ensemble she's wearing- it's not really surprising she gets a glance. Especially since she had used her free time to dye her hair blonde. Those gambling winnings had been put to good use- that much can be said. In any case, one of the guards is fairly quick to address her, raising an eyebrow and a somewhat brusque “State your name and business.”The other guard chimes in with a “Yeah. What he said.” and does his best to look stern, ...or something. Really, the fox girl is trying to place what he's doing other than being a little awkward, and just stares at the guy for a few long moments, before she directs her attention towards the sheriff, casually ignoring the two guards as she proceeds to offer a theatrical bow, and an almost sing-song, “Laury Lyara Lynn, at your service, at the surface. Though ultimately at my own. You know? I know.” One of the guards rolls his eyes, immediately placing her as 'another likely loony'. The sheriff, on the other hand, is on the verge of asking a question, before she properly chimes in with, “My business is pretty simple, though. I'm a bard, and I've got a vested interest in getting' the story of someone that ought to be dying soon, if he ain't already croaked. Figured it might gimme a good tale to tell, and something half decent to scribble later after he's danced at the gallows, y'know?”

Desparrow :: The guards themselves looked to be freshly recruited, rookies to say the least with little practice in holding their weapons and visually bored with a lack of discipline showing. The sheriff however appears to be at least mildly seasoned and gave the newcomer quite the sneer. "You are here to see 'it'." the word was spat, but with a sick delight mixed with hate and disgust. 'It' referring to the monster that goes by the name Desparrow. "It is in the cellar. Been in there for a couple of weeks now." he leaned forward now, elbows pressed to the desk and supporting his chin between thumb and forefinger while he analyzes the foxkin. Sure she was odd but it was probably just another victim of its crimes that wanted a shot at vengeance. That's what so many wanted, and have been allowed. "It is a pity, I was hoping it would die but it is like a weed. Clinging to life even when you rip it from the ground. If it's been fed, wasn't on my watch, let alone given water. Yet it still doesn't die." The man tilted back then in his chair before waving his hand in dismissal. "Sure, you can go speak to it, can't guarantee that it will say much back if it even can. Glean what you will from it, do what you will and then be gone."

Ina tilts her head off to one side, a look of contemplation painted across her features, “Mm. Well, put in the ground before he was put into the ground. This little bit a' prose is gonna make itself. Anyways, thanks fer fillin' me in on his likelihood of bein'... uncooperative. I'll see if I can figure out how ta be convincin'. This monstrous mutt's guaranteed to be my meal ticket- if I can just give people the right bit of writin' following that execution...” She pauses there, and casually asks, “Ya know where ta find the fine folks that brought in your stray here? Every good bit of writin' or song needs a hero. Either way, I'll go chatter with the waste of space, 'n then be back inna bit.”

Desparrow:: The sheriff found most of the muttering to be inconsequential and quite frankly wasn't listening to it after he had already dismissed the female. The question about who brought 'it' in however did register just barely and he managed to get out a response before the girl was out of earshot, "Rynvalian elves, with Ranok. Says they crippled the beast. Anyways it's in the cellar. There are two men down there are the base of the stairs to either side, don't try anythin' funny." with that he turned and looked away, bothering to slide open a drawer and withdraw a fancy cigar box which held exactly what you would assume it to. From it, he drew one of the phallic smoke sticks and proceeded to place it between his lips. Should the fox woman bother to go down the stairs into the damp cellar there would indeed be two guards at the bottom, each one bearing a veterans rank however and carrying themselves with far more discipline and respect than the two upstairs. Their position was after all far more important: keeping 'it' from being killed by a frantic civilian seeking vengeance, or from being freed by a deranged worshipper. The cellar itself was slightly larger than the upstairs, supported by stone pillars which were the reason why the whole building hadn't collapsed due to the fire which had scorched the upper half. Braziers to either side of the prisoner and torches along the walls lit up the room just enough while combined with the musty air to create an eerie atmosphere.

Ina files away all those stated details in the back of her mind. Considering it tallied up to, a skeleton staff of 5 individuals, at least in the immediate moment. Plus whatever patrols in the immediate area, in addition to...she had heard a rumour about a golem. Was that really a thing? Whatever the case, all these little details were just filed away, as she sauntered down the stairs, casually humming a wordless tune. It's only when she reaches the bottom that she actually quiets slightly, to offer a lax salute to those guards present, “Howdy folks. I've got an interview to give, before he makes with the whole, dancing on air, spastic twitchy-thingy bits. So, I'll tryn' make this quick. Anyways. Hey there. Name's Laury. I'm a bard- 'n I figured you might do with having a few things said, so y'know, when you get your neck stretched out, people get to know just why you thought it was a good idea to do allll the crazy things you did.”

Desparrow was more than a prisoner down here, the scene laid out in such a way it would appear that he was more the victim of abduction and torture. His once muscular and healthy appearance was one that portrayed a man clinging to life whilst on his deathbed. The months of malnutrition and lack of sustenance have left him sunken, depleted and pallid. Several new wounds were on his body including but not limited to various cuts, bruises, a gnarled finger or two and his latest addition of a gash on his head leaking blood over his face and beneath the muzzle chained to his face. It passed over his lips and hungrily he caught as much as he could with his tongue just for the moisture to wet his mouth a bit. Suspended on the wall by chains staked to the wall did not leave him in a comfortable position that would grant him much rest, and really the only sleep he was granted was when the guards got bored with torturing him to the brink of numbness leaving him more or less incapable of a pleasurable reaction. Other things to note would be the contraption which had burrowed into his chest and wrapped around his heart, visible on the surface as a holding device for a crystal which was continually sapping Des' mana as he continued to generate it, leaving him in such a state that he was barely able to keep what he had in his body to survive. Still, even in this dire situation his bright azure hues lifted to stare at the newcomer and in them was a vibrant flowing life. He was far from giving up. Barely able but managing enough he parted his lips and spoke roughly, "What do you want?" he sniffed the air, catching her scent if he could, "Another creature wanting to try their hand at making me suffer?" His words were filled with his usual arrogance, viewing those around as below him regardless of the situation at hand.

Ina's expression is neither kind nor cruel, the havoc that's been wrought upon his body doing little more than eliciting a faint wince, and a casual, “Looks like it hurts there. Hospitality here is 10 on 10, y'know? But then, ja did do yer absolute finest ta endear yaself to the masses, right? S'what I've -heard- anyways...” The emphasis on heard is not only obvious but drawn out, the foxkin only pausing to smile beatifically. “But then, I'm always curious about what the other guy's side of the story is. So, do me a favour, 'n gimme your side of things. Less you'd rather be left to the ministrations of these fine folk, and not have someone willing to jot down whatever madness ja feel like spillin'.”