User blog:HoundTheDestroyer93/Draft (The Detective)

Bells in the towers ring out as the hour turns 7 to the evening. The sun setting as shops begin closing and homes begin closing their shutters and doors. A lone man groggily sits upon a horse that slowly clops down the cobblestone street. He was between the age of 42 and 45, with grey hair swept back and a rugged slab of chin hair stubble that covers everything below his nose. He looks over the people shutting themselves away for the night, and smelling the many household dinners that are currently cooking, those smells invading the rapidly abandoned streets.

He wore a dark denim color tail coat adorned with golden buttons, buckles, chains and harnesses. Followed by dark grey pair of pants and black boots. A lit cigarette barely hung from his lips as he strode his way down the street. Tired morally, physically and spiritually.

(Another day.... Another late day, to be specific. But then again everyday is a late day doing this job. Working for the Inner Sanctum in the Inquisition branch, never gives an early day. I don’t know why I hope for any different anymore. You file reports all day with a typewriter when you’re not out makin the paperwork with a case. Regulating Monsters is a constant effort when your branch is a wash with bureaucracy and officials with a less than positive outlook on them. )

Roger Marshal thought to himself.

Roger rode into the Inner sanctum building, it was a ivory architecture ornamented with a large golden cross with angelic wings to complete the image. Marshal stabled his horse and pushed the main double doors in, his coat moving back and forth with his movements. His boot falls echo throughout the marble halls to reach his chief’s office. On his way, he stopped outside a courtroom where a trial being held against a Succubus. This particular Succubus owned a perfume shop and is suspected of tainting her products with Demonic Energy. The Succubus was young. Blue hair, teal eyes and cute.