The Everchanging Woods

[Odinson]

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SUBJECT: International Investigation
SENDER: Christopher Hofstad, Chief of Investigations of The Royal Lighthouse Service (@Connor )
RECIPIENT: Swedish County Police Commissioner for Rörbäcksnäs, Swedish National Police Board
SECURITY: ENCRYPTED

Commissioner,

I hope that this message meets you in good spirits. Locals along the Klarälven River here in Norway have complained about unusual occurrences in a wooded area on the border with Sweden. Local police have investigated this incident to a minimal extent, but because an international border is involved it has been pushed up the food chain. The Royal Lighthouse Service has an investigative division, which I am in charge of, and has national jurisdiction over the Kingdom of Norway. While we normally investigate incidents and crimes committed on the open seas or on the coast, there are some unique instances where we do not. In all honesty, Kripos effectively declined to take up this case and it ended up being dropped on my desk. The Minister of Coastal Affairs has permitted me to send this message to you, and ask for your assistance in this matter.

Because we do not know if these strange occurrences are taking place in exactly Norway or Sweden, we'd like to request a local Swedish police officer to assist two of our agents in the investigation, in the event that this goes beyond the Norwegian border. At the moment, the extent of this investigation involves: the alleged theft of sheep, alleged illegal logging, and alleged trespassing. If you would be willing to spare an officer for this investigation, our agents would be happy to meet him in Rörbäcksnäs where they could brief him. If you could help me out here, I would greatly appreciate this and owe you one. The two I would be sending to Sweden to meet your guy are:
Special Agent Markus Johansen and Special Agent Mary Overbay.

Fair winds and following seas,

Christopher Hofstad
Chief of Investigations, Royal Lighthouse Service

 

[Connor]

In response to the correspondence the Assistant Commissioner of Bergslagen Policing Region immediately instructs the regional dispatch centre to send a single-crewed police officer to the location specified in the letter. In response, log number 209 is opened and unit PU47 is allocated - echoing over the regional radio network the dispatcher begins an explanation of the log and the necessity for police attendance.

"CONTROL to PAPA-UNIFORM-FOUR-SEVEN?"
"FOUR-SEVEN." Jon, the officer, replies with dread in his voice, expecting another mundane domestic call.
"Thank you FOUR-SEVEN, an unusual one for you, can you head over to Rörbäcksnäs for tasking please? I'll port the details to your device."
"Yes, yes, received - I'm about ten minutes away" Jon perks up, tasking being unusual in the modern age of policing and with details not passed over the air, it must be a unique call.

Jon head over to the location in his marked police vehicle, suited in the standard-issue police uniform and equipment. The log details were sparse probably to retain information within the control room rather than having other nosey officers having a quick look at the bespoke call - it was mentioned however that the officer would be met by an 'external agency' upon arrival at the location. Once on his way the Norwegian Royal Lighthouse Service are informed directly and given up-to-date mapping to provide a realtime location of the unit.

The control room begin checking call logs and dispatch records for 'unusual occurrences' in the region.

 

[Odinson]

The Royal Lighthouse Service gave the name of a local lodge and inn in Rörbäcksnäs, called "Grand Hearth Lodge". Little detail was given, besides the fact that the two agents would meet him there, and that the assignment would be a multi-day one. "If you have a spare change of clothes" the response said, "please bring them for your own comfort." It was about 2:30 in the afternoon as Jon traveled to the small village. The sun was approaching the mountains in the distance, and the sky was starting to change colors as the short winter day started to come to an end. Outside of the lodge, Jon would see a few cars parked next to one side of the old stone building. One of the cars was a modest four-door vehicle colored grey. It had Norwegian government plates, but was otherwise inconspicuous. The lodge itself was reinforced with old pieces of spruce that looked like they may have been cut down before Sweden even had building codes.

As Jon approached the entrance to the tavern, he was met with a large wooden door that was reinforced with iron joins. Instead of having some kind of doorknob, it had a round iron handle that one would have to push on. Jon could faintly hear the gentle merriment coming from the inside as he gave the door a good, solid yank. The door cracked open to reveal a cozy pub on the first floor of the three-story building. The first thing Jon noticed was that it was toasty inside, much warmer than the dropping temperatures outside in the countryside. Not even before Jon closed the door behind him, he could feel the eyes of almost everyone in the room staring at him. Even the live music of a small folk band in the corner stopped playing momentarily as everyone stared at the police officer in his dark blue uniform. There were some parts of Sweden, especially in the country, where people weren't always the most trusting of police, especially if they weren't from around there. After a few moments, the folk band starting playing their gentle, local music again.

As Jon looked around, he saw what he presumed to be several local drunks sitting at the bar, quietly talking among each other. There were several finished glasses of ale next to each of them. On Jon's right was where the name of the lodge came from - there was a massive stone hearth, bigger than any he had ever seen before. It was taller than Jon himself and had a roaring fire within it that was presumably keeping this entire bottom floor warm. Just to the left of the hearth was the live band, who looked to be a group of older and younger people playing the folk music. Along the walls of the bottom floor were small booths, most of which were empty, but some were filled with locals. Anyone that Jon looked over at, skeptically stared back at him, from the old to the young. A couple of younger girls, around twenty years old, whispered to each other and stared at him with their sparkling Nordic eyes. To his left, Jon saw a man and a woman who stood out from the rest of the people there. They both looked to be in their early thirties - so both slightly older than him. The man had short, light brown hair and was wearing a grey suit with a dark-colored necktie. He was on the slim side, had a fairly neat haircut, and seemed rather disinterested in the coffee that he was drinking as he slowly stirred a spoon in it. Next to him was a woman with blonde hair. She was wearing a grey pants suit - which was very close to the shade of grey on her partner's clothes. She was leaning back in the booth, and had her eyes closed as she was trying to get a few moments of rest. The man was sitting at the open edge of the booth and noticed Jon.

He motioned for Jon to walk over and stood up from the booth. He shook Jon's hand and gave a brotherly smile. "Hello. You're Jon, I'm guessing?" he said in a voice loud enough for Jon to hear, but soft enough so that the nosy townsfolk around them wouldn't be able to understand much. His green-blue eyes looked friendly and genuine. "I'm Special Agent Markus Johansen, and this is my partner, Special Agent Mary Overbay," he said. Markus took out a leather wallet and let it unfold itself. The top portion of the inside had a plastic ID card that said "SPECIAL AGENT". It had a picture of Markus, along with some other information, and said "Royal Lighthouse Service" on it. The bottom half of the wallet had a gold-colored badge. Engraved into it was a small lighthouse with two beams coming out from the right and left. Beneath it said, Royal Lighthouse Service and above it said Special Agent.

Mary opened one of her blue eyes, and then another. She appeared to be waking up from a power nap. She scooted herself out of the booth and stood up to be polite, "Nice to meet you, officer. Please, take a seat," she said. The booth, of course, had a place for him to sit opposite of them. They both sat down as Jon did. Agent Johansen raised his finger to signal the barkeep who rolled his eyes, and told the girl assisting him to go over to the three outsiders. Markus leaned forward and whispered to Jon, "The coffee is terrible here. We're off-duty for the rest of the night, I'm getting a beer."

"Hallo," the young Swedish girl said as she adjusted her apron. "Can I help you three?"
"I'll take some of your... ale?" Markus said skeptically as he tried to decipher the Swedish words on the wooden menu atop the available alcoholic drinks.
"I'll take the same, with a water," Mary added. The girl looked over to Jon, and briefly stared at his uniform, before directing her eyes back to his.

 

[Connor]

Jon was a regular lad, around six feet tall, of broad build but by no means overweight; he bestowed the stereotypical Scandinavian trademark of a blonde haired, blue eyed boy with very slight stubble darkening his jawline, chin and neck. Jon had always worn his uniform with pride and despite the temperatures dropping this did not change his appearance, he wore his thick puffy navy blue coat with the Swedish Police Authority patch proudly sat on the sleeve, beneath this sat his standard-issue body armour atop of a thermal undershirt. On his shoulders laid his epaulettes, proudly displaying his Senior Police Officer rank and around his wait wrapped a leather utility belt where several different polished attachments carried his sidearm, handcuffs, steel telescopic baton, leather gloves and incapacitant spray - his outfit finished nicely with navy blue trousers with a clear ironed crease down the front and back and his black polished boots.

Being asked to bring a spare change of clothes struck weird with Jon, although in his vehicle he always did carry spares in case his uniform was soiled during his tour of duty. Never-the-less he continues to the Grand Hearth Lodge eager to see what he was tasked with, exiting the vehicle exposed him to the dropping temperatures causing the blood to rush to his ears and nose in a desperate attempt to keep his extremities warm; this naturally causing some bright reddening to his skin. Once arriving he parked his car neatly between two barely visible white lines painted onto the snow-covered tarmac prompting him to then twist the set of keys in the ignition, shutting off the engine and allowing him to rip them from the vehicle. Using the steering wheel and the doorframe as a lever to help him drag his uniform clad body from the drivers seat he clambers to his feet before slamming the door of his police vehicle closed, locking it behind him and shuffled his way towards the building.

"FOUR-SEVEN, you can show me Code 6..." he utters, the carbon dioxide visibly escaping his mouth in the freezing weather.

Once he entered the Grand Hearth Lodge and slamming the door behind him he clearly notices the awkward stares as he stands in the entryway, a foreigner to most of these people with the police not often travelling into this town, purely due to the lack of necessity. Despite the unwelcoming introduction to the premises he warms his hands between themselves and glares eagerly at both Markus and Mary.

"Yeah... I'm Jon." he says proudly although hesitant, this city cop hadn't ever heard of the Royal Lighthouse Service and certainly didn't know they had Special Agents but despite his reservations he sat himself down and listened to what they had to say.

"I'll just have a coffee please, black." he smiles to the waitress, noting the Norwegians attempt to converse.

 

[Odinson]

Markus waited until the waitress left and said, "That's a mistake you'll regret, it tastes like dirt," he noted with a smile. Mary seemed to finally be awake as she stretched her arms and leaned back in the table. "We had a long drive from Oslo," she said. "First someone drove us almost fifty kilometers too far to the north," she said teasingly as she briefly looked at her partner. "And then I think your border police thought we were spies, or impostors of some kind. We were stuck there for at least twenty minutes," she said before she rubbed her face and then made a tired smile. "At least we're here now," she said.

Markus took a sip from his coffee and winced a bit. He made himself more comfortable and looked at Jon. "I guess you'd like to know why you're here.." he said in momentary contemplation, trying to think of how to explain the situation as concisely as possible.
"The Royal Lighthouse Service has a small investigative program that we're both a part of. We're from Unit 3, which is 'Special Investigations'. There's only a few of us in this unit," he noted as he looked over at his partner.

"Unit 3 investigates what Kripos, the other special services, and the Norwegian police would normally decline to investigate... this is actually one of our first cases," he said. He nearly took a sip of his coffee again, but remembered about the taste and set the cup back down. Mary continued from where her partner left off. "We sometimes investigate unexplained phenomena and..." Mary stopped talking when Markus gently kicked her foot. Law enforcement didn't exactly take the new special agents with the Royal Lighthouse Service seriously, especially agents from Kripos. The special agent program was the newest law enforcement agency in Norway. With that came a certain level of hazing for the new agents. Units 1, 2, and 3 of R.L.H.S. Investigations was starting to be nicknamed "The Grays" because their were required to wear grey-colored suits which is a nod to their nautical heritage. Less endearingly, however, Unit 3 has specifically been referred to as, "The Spooks" because of the strange things they allegedly investigate. Markus evidently didn't want to weird out Jon right away - he was tired of feeling like the freak of Norway's law enforcement.

"Like Mary was saying, we sometimes investigate unexplained phenomena. I guess Kripos didn't want this case, so they threw it at us. I'm sorry you had to come out for this, it's probably not going to be anything exciting," Markus noted as he toyed with the spoon in his coffee. He was about to say something else, but the girl that had taken their order came back with a wooden platter and set it down on their table. She gave the two Norwegians each a beer and a water, and gave the fresh, earthy coffee to Jon. "Let me know if I can get you anything else," she said, before walking away.

Mary and Markus looked at each other and then the ale in front of them. They each took an inquisitive sip, and both of them shook their heads. "This isn't it," Mary said as she pushed the ale aside and took a rather large gulp from her water. Markus did the same. They obviously were looking for something that Jon wasn't.

Markus took out a piece of paper from the right pocket of his jacket and set it down on the table for the three of them to see. It was of the general area that they were in, including both Norway and Sweden. Markus pointed where they were, and then motioned towards Norway as he started speaking. "We are here, in this dreary little village. Tomorrow we're going to go talk to a man in Lutnes who owns some woods in Norway, right on the border with Sweden. He's a woodsman, he grows and cuts down trees for a living. He's said that people have been coming on his property at night. Local police reports say that the lights are coming from around his property. His brother has a farm nearby with rams, and he's reported several of them missing the past two weeks.. it sounds like some kids are just having bonfires on this old man's property," he said skeptically.

"They're having bonfires, and stealing goats?" Mary asked.
"Probably wolves, or something else. This is the only area in Norway with wolves," he said in response.

Markus slid a key across to Jon. "We got you a room, courtesy of His Majesty's government," he said. "All three of our rooms are next to each other. The weather is suppose to get pretty harsh tonight up through tomorrow morning, so I think it'd be best for us to hunker down tonight. We cleared it with your superiors, sorry we're going to need you for some overtime. Hopefully the Nordic Council gets their act together so that our border isn't so hard in the future," Markus noted.

"I'm going get changed," Markus said. "Get comfortable, Jon. We're going to be here a while," he said, before making his way upstairs. Mary honestly wanted to do the same, but she thought it would be rude to leave him alone. That's when she noticed the notepad still sitting on the table.
"Oh, I think the barmaid left her notepad," she said. Mary leaned forward and started getting up, but she somehow just barely managed to lean into Markus's cup of coffee.

"Shit!" she said under her breath in Norwegian as the coffee soaked into her white dress shirt. "I'll be right back," she said. "Think if you have any questions about the case while I'm gone," she said as she got up and went outside to go get some of her spare clothes from their government car. The notepad was still sitting on the table. The waitress that it belonged to was standing near the grand hearth, and appeared to be warming her hands. The band just finished a song and took a break to probably get a drink at the bar, leaving the girl mostly alone. If Jon tried calling to her, she wouldn't hear him. He'd need to get up and bring it to her.

 

[Connor]

Jon was visually nervous which was evident by his consistent involuntary game developing in his hand; one thumb rolling over the top of the other interchangeably as the rest of his fingers on each hand remained interlocked in his lap. He had chosen a coffee purely out of habitual instinct... perhaps it was more as a subconscious comfort drink in an otherwise unfamiliar scenario where he felt overwhelmingly out of place. As he sit, glaring at two Norwegians in what appeared to be a much more distinguished government agency than his own Jon could still feel the eyes of others in the lodge darting into his back as if he were a dartboard. This only added to the pressure he was already feeling. Despite this, Jon pulled a smile across his face and chuckled "Dirt?" he mutters in disbelief "It can't be much worse than what I get from the service stations on patrol..." he laughs in the hope that the two agencies could at least bond over shit coffee.

The explanation from Markus shed some light on the otherwise mysterious origins of the Royal Lighthouse Service, this coupled with the arrival of the less-than-recommended coffee started to make Jon feel more comfortable in his surroundings.

The warm cup, set in front of him was very quickly grasped with both hands, breaking the repetitive anxiety-driven game between his thumbs - with very little hesitation the cup was brought straight to his face where the steam engulfed his rosey-red face, immediately warming his skin and allowing him to sense the temperature of the liquid within. His lips pucker like a cat anus as he brings the rim of the mug towards his mouth, allowing a small amount of liquid to dribble through and onto his tongue; the boiling water causes his muscles to contract slightly but it remained refreshing after experiencing the temperature outside. After the first swallow he was quickly able to rank the cup amongst the other he's had in his life time, nodding as his eyes dart from the cup up to Markus and Mary "Mhm..." he mumbles, making eye contact with them both before following up with "You're right..." - the mental ranking saw the cup of coffee slowly fall down the leaderboard and the flavour developed in his mouth "That stuff is fucking gross". The coffee hadn't impressed Jon which says a lot considering the drinks he otherwise orders from dodgy burger vans and petrol stations on the road but although reluctant he continued to sip the coffee, for some reason the flavour and the temperature of the liquid brought some relief to him, allowing him to relax.

From the brief description given by Markus, Lutnes seemed like a unique fellow; he was picturing an old man making nuisance calls to the police in the hope they could work some sort of miracle to stop the death of his lifestock, something Jon dealt with regularly... well... something he 'dealt' with. He didn't really do much, or anything for that matter. Bit of community reassurance? Is that what Jon had been tasked with? Norwegian Police were appearing incompetent if that was the case.

Jon pulls the key from the table and pulls it up into his palm to inspect it - "Thank you" he hesitantly replies, listening carefully to what he's being told.

Mary's clumsiness causes Jon to dart from his chair, avoiding coffee from going on the uniform he was so proud to carry "Don't worry, don't worry! I'll sort the mess out..." he bellows as the coffee sweeps across the table like a tidal wave. His reactions cause him to grab the notepad from the now swampy surface, flicking any moisture off the paper and back to the puddle before making his way over to the waitress "Excuse me miss... you left this on our table..?" he could feel the warmth of the hearth and couldn't help but flirt a little with the lone female. Jon was single... or at least that's what he told all the girls.

 

[Odinson]

The girl had to at least be 18 to be working in a bar. While she probably wasn't any older than 20, she was certainly physically mature. She was maybe only an inch or two shorter than him, and had nearly platinum blonde hair that was commonplace throughout Norway and Sweden. Her slightly wavy hair was long and went down her back, nearly to her bum. She turned away from the fire and faced Jon. Her pale face was flushed red, either from the hot fire she had been facing, or from the handsome police officer standing in front of her now. She was wearing tight jeans and a well-fitted white t-shirt that showed off her well-endowed feminine physique quite well. She perked up and smiled as he spoke.

"Oh, thank you!" she said as she took the notepad from him. She went in, and gave him a friendly hug, which was honestly quite unusual. She quickly broke the embrace and looked down at her notepad, to double check that it was her's and not someone else's. "Thank you so much! My name is Kristina," she said as she shyly folded her arms around her chest. "I'm on my break right now, would you like to chat for a bit?" she asked. If Jon did, she'd sit down in front of an old wooden table that was near the hearth. Instead of sitting across from him, she sat close to him and occasionally brushed her her shoe against his. She told him a bit about herself, and about how boring the village was. When he would seem to lose interest, she'd blink her sparkling blue eyes at him to try to win back his attention.

"Who are your friends? We normally don't see people dressed so... fancy, here. We normally don't see police officers either. Is something going on around the village?" she asked as she looked directly into his eyes. Her fingers gently danced on top of of the wooden table while she smiled innocently at him. She leaned forward a bit, making some of her cleavage visible. He noticed she was wearing a small silver necklace with an odd symbol. She waited for an answer to her myriad of questions. It was becoming apparent that he was probably the most interesting person to come into her life the past week or so - not much happened in this small little village.

 

[Connor]

Jon was beginning to get excited, he'd pulled a beautiful woman out in the middle of nowhere, more to the point he couldn't wait to tell his friends. Whilst listening delicately to Kristina he made it no secret that he was attracted to her physique; he wasn't much of a romantic but he'd certainly been with his fair share of women over the years. As they sit talking Jon could intentionally puff up his chest to make himself appear manlier than he actually was, although he did have unmistakably toned arms he remained with the conception that Kristina would find a muscled man more attractive.

"Friends? Oh... I don't know them, we're just working together." Jon almost went robotic as he repeated the same law enforcement officer line every cop learns to love "No, no there's nothing to worry about at all, we're just meeting here". Whether intentional or not his eyes very clearly gaze down to her cleavage causing his mouth to get unmistakably dry as he's engulfed by this females beauty. But diverting the conversation slightly he ponders upon the origins of her necklace, it was at least something to keep the conversation rolling and well... it allowed Jon to stare unsuspectingly that this girls breasts for a longer period of time.

"I couldn't help but notice your necklace... where'd you get it?" he mumbles and he leans back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other and swinging his finely polished boot in front of him a little. Throughout the conversation Jon clenched the room key firmly in his grip before diving it into his coat pocket.

 

[Odinson]

Kristina seemed surprised when he mentioned her necklace. She briefly looked down at her chest and then quickly sat back up so that the small medallion wasn't visible any more. She almost seemed confused for a moment, before she said "Oh, that?" she said as she avoided eye contact. "My mother gave it to me a long time ago," she said uncomfortably. It was quite obvious she didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps because he was now sitting in the center of the room could he look up and see the tops of the mini cathedral-like sealing in the room. About fifteen feet up, there were many mounted animals, most of which were either deer or goats. There were even a few skulls mounted with their antlers on that weren't even taxidermyed. It felt as if all of the dead eyes of the animals were staring down at him and the girl he was sitting across from.

Kristina avoided eye contact for a few more moments, and then looked back at Jon as if a thought had just popped up in her head. "Have you ever been skiing, near Sundsvall?" she asked.

 

[Odinson]

@Connor