CH1- Cat and Mouse
(Implore you to read Caitlyn's Judgement here: http://na.leagueoflegends.com/board/...47#post5052247)
CH 1 of Soloist
Time: 9:36 pm
Date: April 11, 20 CE
Resilience Way, Demacia
The air is heavy, droplets falling down from the sky making soft patters against the cobblestone pavement. Around me where a congregation of nightgoers, their faces forming into an expression of shock; A conversation in the air amongst the nightgoers claim that they witnessed a man fall from the top of the Artificer's Guild Hall before vanishing. The situation is pressing down heavy on my shoulders, dragging my vision downward. Not this.
I clench my rifle's stock in a fit of anger and frustration; my nails digging into the cedar, a light cracking sound being produced.
He got away. Again.
This thief. The only outlaw that has escaped me thus far, un-aprehendable by even me, the sheriff of Piltover. Under my assiduous watch, one thief had committed now five heists consisting of several valuable heirlooms. The ******* even takes an extra measure to taunt me by leaving cards at the scene, replacing the stolen item. Upon each card was a C etched on the face, each varied in stock, font, and colour; it hinted to where he would be striking next. He thinks I can't catch him and that always he'll get away with it forever. The C on the card isn't his identity like the others thought, but his own challenge to me at this point. ****ed to bloody hell if I am not going to take that challenge.
Right, regrasping the situation. Not getting lost in rage. Stay cool, Caitlyn.
I sling my rifle back onto my right shoulder and snapped my vision back to true eye level, about to interrogate the nearest bystander, "All right, you-" Then I stopped.
The alley was completely vacant, aside from me. They had gone too, and just as this realization was had, a torrential downpour came down. **** it all, it's like they weren't even here. However I can't just rely completely on witnesses out here. The guild's captain of sercurity couldn't even give me any great recount of the situation at hand.
I've been searching the alley for a good hour now, unable to find how he could have gotten away this time. It felt hopeless, there weren't any possible contraptions on the sides of buildings that he could have used to soften his fall or completely circumvent hitting the floor at all. Perhaps a…
The cobble stone pavement suddenly started shifting on the building, sliding underneath the wall, opening a hidden passage. I scramble for my rifle, raising its aim to the cellar, a bit trigger happy. A low chuckle then began resonating from the darkness.
"Tricky, aren't I?"
He's not getting away. Not now.
I barked out, "Step out slowly!"
"Nah, I'm not gonna do that."
He was amused….
"I'll give you 'til the count of three. If you aren't in plain sight with your hands up, I'm just going to use the muzzle flash from this rifle to light my way."
He isn't getting away from me, dead or alive.
"You won't do it, you don't have the-"
"You know if you shoot me, you'll never find out how I-"
My finger clenched down on the trigger tightly, expecting to hear a bang then a thud. Instead, a depressing click was all that I could hear from my rifle. Something in my chest felt like it contracted as the cobble stone trap door slid back over with a wicked cackle ringing out before silenced by the passage being closing it off.
Time: 8:10 pm
April 12 20 CE
The Office, Piltover
After the two thefts in Demacia, I make haste for Piltover. During my transit, I hadn't slept more than a couple hours (four only after just departing Demacia). Coming back to a more familiar setting, and surely more pleasuring one to me- I remain restless. Instead of going home to my flat, I decide to continue my investigation within my office.
I lean on my desk, trying not to doze off. I stare at the card he left this time, though this would be the umpteenth time I have inspected the card. Light Brown, rough matte stock… geometric C with silver leaf… it seemed familiar. Within the C, there is a line impressed into the silver, tracing out a geometric design. I scribble down that It felt like the card reminded me of machinery, but I think I already wrote that a few times during my sleepless voyage. I stumble over to a bulletin board and tacked it on with the other four that were mounted and shuffle back to the desk. Hmpf. What could he be searching for… what…are we… known…
I hit the floor with force. Ugh, what an unpleasant surprise, I pass out and it's day. The sunlight stung my eyes more than usual, making it hard to see. Nevertheless, I lazily climb back into my chair, holding my head. My head and legs felt sore. Must be catching up to me since that chase in Demacia.
Speaking of Demacia, I glanced over the notes indicating my findings from two days ago. Looking at it made my head only hurt more. Sickened, I tuck it into a folder, filing it away. Five thefts, and no one sees a thing. I cannot begin to say how much that boggles my mind. No one is flawless. Yet, it's like everyone goes blind and deaf for when the theft happens.
A rapping sound interrupts my thoughts, forcing me to look toward my door.
I mutter to myself, "Now, who could that be?"
Time: 11:11 AM
April 13 20 CE
The Office, Piltover
"It was horrendous! The master copy of my Ubiquitous Star Rod, snatched over night by some burglar early in the morning!" The man- well, Yordle, sat across from me on the other side of my desk. His eyes barely reached over the desk. Fortunately, I am tall enough to look down at him. As for who he was. Right. He was known as The Revered Inventor, Heimerdinger. During his frantic claims though there was something distracting about him. No Piltovian would dare say it to him directly…
But his afro distinctively reminded me of Lemon Jelly. The way it moved and its colour. All together, and it was extremely distracting.
Rather of thinking about what happened if someone actually tried to use a spoon on his head, I sulked slightly to get on a more eye-level view of him. Less distracted now, I interrupted Heimerdinger's panicked, scattered recollection by raising my hand in the fashion of telling someone please shut up and stop for a moment. "Heimerdinger! One thing at a time and we can sort this out easier if you can tell me what happened slowly and in order."
It seems as if he froze in place and then slowly put his hands down, moustache twitching, and small beady eyes locking forward. The fro-Yordle took a deep breath and exhaled before attempting to speak slowly and calmly (or calmer? He never sounds relaxed.)
"Very well, madam. It was around one or two in the morning. I was tinkering in the workshop. Seeing the time, I felt that it was getting a bit late to be working on my next invention, which was a Mana Capacitor, oh how it would-"
He seemed to read my expression, which kept him on topic, and to lighten up his theatrics.
"Right, I started to stow away my tools, and then began to leave my workshop out the front door- In a hurry, mind you! At first nothing seemed to be wrong… But I forgot the keys to lock my shop up in the first place! So off I went, back into the workshop to retrieve my keys. There was a human in the shop, I saw his silhouette; I mean he was bigger than me so he had to be at least human! Oh, Right, what he was doing. He was standing over the star rod, and then grabbed it, running off! Rude man even knocked over a few tables on his way out. Ach, the mess! What makes it worse is that the same rod was going to be put on display in the Hall of Progress…"
After he trails off, he seemed to be mumbling to himself (none of which I understand) and fiddling with a wrench. I was keeping notes of all the details of what he had told me, but then something kept itching from within for me to ask. Heimer regained his composure, his head swinging back into eye contact, his fro following suit. **** that thing, it made me forget what I was going to ask.
Heimer emits a high pitched cough, and then attempts to speak again, "Apologies, I lose myself quite a lot, Miss Caitlyn. You see, the gears are always moving in my head but it can sometimes lose my attachment to the conversation, making go off on a tangent," He made a circle with his index finger then at the top, the finger went in a straight line off course. "Like that, you know, how it would work in the real world, ohh there I go again."
Being patient with the inventor, I motion for him to continue.
"Can you tell me anything else about what happened? Was there anything distinctive about the thief that you could have seen?"
The yordle's moustache commenced twitching as he was blinking his eyes rapidly while periodically tilting his head back and forth as if he was listening to a merry tune.
"My story comes to such an abrupt stop. Sorry if my description was unsatisfactory to your standards, Miss." For a moment, it seemed like his eyes widened in an apologetic manner , leaning forward and staring up at me.
"You should come to the workshop today! Perhaps there is more you could find within? He has to have left some modicum of evidence behind, perhaps some way for you to track where my work has gone-"
"Well, I can't exactly-"
Before my sentence could be finished, Heimer stood in his chair, raising his hands and bobbing his head back in the most dramatic motion I have seen come out of him so far, and that's saying something.
"Everyone in Piltover- No no Valoran- knows you're searching for a thief! A thief that steals famed objects like my poor Star rod," he claimed, sounding dejected and frantic all at once.
He already had stole two Demacian Heirlooms over the past week… what was the likelihood of him striking again already? What was the point that he was trying to make? I don't want to think that it was all a game of cat and mouse…
Reluctantly, I agreed to take a look in the Inventor's workshop, for the slim possibility that I may find something. *****ly enough, I hope it was the *******.
13 April 20 CE
Heimerdinger's Workshop, District of Progression, Piltover
For a how big Yordles are on average, despite Heimer's enlarged cranium, his workshop was the size of a small warehouse. The whole shop was lofty, the air heavy from any mechanical exhaust or chemicals he used within some of his failed or successful inventions (I did not dare to question which was which, for I would be tided in for a long rant about each machine). It could have been that I grew up around my father's Techmurgical devices; Despite that, the work shop had an stranger feeling of familiarity. Stagnant almost. Deja Vu. It could just be a Piltovian thing.
The inventor initiated his own conversation about spending time here and how it was like a second home to him. I tune him out as I inspect the area around us as we walked deeper into the shop, carefully trying not to trip over the random devices laying on the floor. In the path that we were taking, there were indeed some tables knocked over and none seem to be propped into any standing position. "C" would have needed to apply quite a bit of force to throw this tables over- He could have possibly been rammed into it, resulting in probable injuring.. Hm, maybe someone else saw him?
"Ah, we're getting to the true scene of the crime!" Ah, here we are. I can tune him back in now. Heimerdinger bounced over toward the supposed crime scene and then came to a stop, rubbing his oversized cranium, before stating, "My my, that's awfully peculiar of him to leave here."
The thief left something? I made my way hastily over to the pedestal, only to have a feeling of horror overcome me. There is something laying atop the elegantly crafted metallic pedestal. There a card sat, with a golden C emblazoned upon the emerald card in all its disgusting glory. I grit my teeth in anger at the sight of it, reminding me of my encounter not too long ago. Taking a breath, I manage to muster a level headed question. "Is the front door the only entrance and exit?"
Heimerdinger's expression became bright, spinning in a circle once while giving his response, "The only conventional one, yes but you see anyone can do anything to get into a place, let's say, phase through a wall or turn invisible and walk past me through the front door or cut his way in through the ground or somehow use my one way teleporter. Though it has no way of working so I can't see how that would be valid-"
Oh **** it, here he goes.
Why didn't I word my question to be more precise?
If I remember anything about the burglar, he never went for conventional (I noted this after the theft in Freljord). I let Heimer muse on about every **** possible entrance as I wander around the workshop floor. Besides the hopeless amount of mechanical parts and batteries, there are lifts around the shop that were elevated at various levels, though on some of them, they were clear and uncluttered with the regular ware that could be seen all around the workshop. I wanted to look around the floor initially, but something is drawing me to the lifts. The windows line the whole room, forming a band around the ceiling. My eyes wandered upward and around the room before coming to a stop.
"Hm? Sheriff? Miss Caitlyn? What is it that you are staring at?" The yordle bounced over to me, adjusting his goggles.
I manage to get into inspection range of the windows. When raised high enough on the lift, I could see that a window was ajar. They are actually rather large enough to let someone crouch through. Each of the windows had a complex lock on them on the interior side. The window in question had its lock disassembled, all of the parts left on the sill. In the glass, there is a clean cut in the glass, giving the thief access to the lock. I can only guess that a Hex-Code Breaker could take it apart so quickly and accurately, especially without Heimerdinger noticing. Given the time, "C" could have been lying in wait for the right time to strike. All sides of the building were a harsh vertical wall up, without any slant. Looking outside though, there was metal torn, as if something grappled onto the side, biting down. I couldn't tell what did that but it explains how he was able to scale up the side of the building. Getting down from here would have been an easy task for anyone that is agile. There is a clear path of platforms, and then the pedestal where the rod was.
In the back of my mind, the frequency was bugging the hell out of me. He struck consecutively twice in Demacia, all within a short span of time. Now here, not a week too soon; What could he want with these? The ultimate fortune? That would be the more normal intent but I could not help but feel there was something more to this. Nngh, and then that all too familiar headache returned to me. I can't think too hard while on the case, it only muddles my thoughts and has caused me to have pre-conceptions.
I explain my findings to Heimerdinger and advise him to have an alarm system installed, just barely giving into the temptation of telling him to talk less. From there I made my way back to the office and arrived at Two-fourty-seven in the afternoon. Removing my hat and placing it on its regular spot on its pedestal by the window, I sit at my desk once more and took out the card found at the scene of the crime this time. Before truly examining the card, I scrawl out Heimerdinger's name on the lengthy list of people that were met while on the case. A general rule of thumb I keep while sleuthing in any scenario is to suspect every one until the case is closed.
Now to get onto examining the card. The stock was glossy, the C painted in a yellow goldenrod hue, somewhat reminiscent of a wicked claw. Inside the C, a more organic design combined with some hexagonal shapes connected by thin lines. There were more intricacies done in gold, over the glossy olive green backdrop of the card. It was unclear at first as to what City-state this could have been next... Something about it is sickly and toxic.
I noticed I had this floating in lore for a while and I am not sure if I should even bother posting the next chapter right now. It's hard to feel inspired by the lack of lore material being released.
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