Fire, Fire, Fire

[Lammy]

Within the Inn of Serenity, a small fire came from apartment of the prophet of Ualdir, Ochiuatl. The few non-magi within the building were quick to see a horrible, gruesome sight of what remains of the place.

After a few moments of internal investigation and ashes that accumulated--from dental records and small figments of hair that was collected, it was clear who died.

Mercy and Ochiuatl, both perished in this fire.

A hooded man was soon seen fleeing the situation, standing at a tall height with bronze skin and dark hair. Muttering the phrase, 'Monster, Monster.'

And in their hands, reports say, was a small infant no older than two.

[ApathyArtistry]

"Man, what the fuck?"
"Somebody, bring me information on the Magi who did this."
"I'm not letting this shit slide, they were members of our community."

A brutal murder within the otherwise quiet dunes of Serenity, The Guardian (Of the Research Department), and Sarim of the Wisdom of the sisters, however, is not letting this scenario fade into obscurity, not if there was more information to be gleamed.

A request for information was levied, placed upon the noticeboards of Serenity, offering a compensation package for those who know more of the situation, or can provide information that would lead to the hooded actor's capture.

[ABitOfVittle]

A Consul, on review of the scene--of the fallen, wastes no time. He doesn't pause, nor tarry. There is no internal memo, nor any discussion as to the potentials of this case. He wastes no time, putting it out to all within Serenity, and no doubt in time; to those without.

Monsters are to be hunted, and what is here; what has done this? Is nothing more then a monster. Guardians, consider this a Hunt. If you wish to prove yourself as a Serenite of Worth, of Honor? Then find the one who thought to commit such a baseless, disgusting act.

And bring them to me, alive.

We'll handle this Monster in honor of Ochiuatl's beliefs. With fire. And penance.

And if there are those who would harbor such a vile piece of Donkey-Shite? Then break their ribs before you drag the beast back.

Good hunting.

No jokes. No fanfare. No great and prolific statements. Just the words of a man who's contempt for the world at large grows ever-so-malignantly.