The Lost Lady (ATTN Peter)

Peter’s townhouse is a sparsely furnished, three story bachelor pad with bare white walls, second-hand furniture, dirty dishes in the sink and stacks of paper a foot high or more covering his dining room table, along with a half eaten pizza from two days ago. The one distinct feature of his furnishes is the numerous bookshelves that line the walls. There are also papers, books and magazines covering almost every surface. On the rare occasion that Peter does make time to try to straighten all of this up, he has only found that he doesn’t have enough shelf space, even with the profusion of shelves he does have. Fortunately he never seems to lose anything in the great morass, somehow he just knows where everything is.

Peter sits at his desk, sifting through papers and printouts his contacts have sent to him regarding the chemical Compound 641 that his mysterious informant had asked him to look into when a knock at his door startles him out of his research. Slowly he stands to his feet and stretches, then heads over to the door.

“Hey, Peter,” Thomas says as he steps through the doorway as soon as it is opened. “It’s cold out tonight,” he comments, “even with my coat and scarf. I thought it was supposed to be spring.” Thomas takes off his dark gray overcoat and blue scarf, beneath which he is wearing a white shirt with a gray vest and jeans. He throws the coat over the back of a dining room chair as he walks further into the house.

“Thanks for agreeing to help me with this,” Thomas says, turning back to Peter, “Tracking down this ogre is going to take a lot of effort, and you’ve got the expertise in information gathering. How do you want to go about this?”

The young, sandy-haired wizard pauses momentarily, thinking. “I’m thinking first we’ll need more information on the Lady Rhiannon, I think. I’ve heard of wizards who can peer into the past to gather information about people. If we could look to what happened when the Lady was taken by the ogre we might find something that could lead us back to the ogre. The Little People should be able to help us with that.” He glances down at Peter’s half-eaten pizza, “It shouldn’t be too hard to get a hold of one of them.”

"I'm thinking out best bet would be to ask one of my contacts, but first lets go over what we already know it will help narrow the list of people who might be know," replies Peter.

Thomas raises a quizzical eyebrow at Peter’s suggestion, “Well, unless you’ve been talking to some faeries I don’t know about, I am your contact with the fae and all we know is that Lady Rhiannon is sidhe, cousin to The Huntsman, and that she was kidnapped and murdered by this ogre…” Thomas’ voice trails off for a moment and he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath as something else comes to him, “No wait,” he adds, “there is more. I know what she looked like.”

“When I opened up the Sight I saw a residual image of the Lady still connected to the finger bone we found in the park. She was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. She had long golden blond hair: it would have hung down past her waist - long enough she could have gone full on Lady Godiva if she’d wanted to. Her eyes were bright blue. She was in perfect shape: slender build, long legs, medium bust. She looked like she must have been in her late teens/early twenties, but with fae it is impossible to tell since a lot of them don’t age while others age at accelerated paces.

“Is that enough to go off of?” he wonders. “Some of the fae have mortal identities like the Huntsman, he goes by Bran Kildare in the mortal world, owner of the Huntsman’s Tavern pub. If Lady Rhiannon ever had dealings with the mortal world there is a chance that her presences might have been missed. Got any contacts with access to police reports? You could have them look for missing persons matching her description within the last year. And then if that doesn’t work I can summon a sprite. You’d be surprised how much a sprite is willing to tell you for half a stale pizza.”

Thomas sits down at the cluttered dining room table while Peter steps over to the far wall to dial in a call on his antique rotary phone. The phone rings a couple times on the other end, then there is a click as the line is picked up and a fuzzy voice says, “D.C. Police Department, how can I help you?”

At his request the operator transfers Peter to the records division where, Frank, his contact, works. It takes several more minutes before Frank is able to pull up the missing persons and database and begins searching. He lists off a half dozen names of young blonde women who had gone missing from the area recently.

((Peter's Contacts roll = Superb))

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