Recent content by Peter Morrey

(Whoops, this fell off my radar) Peter Morrey's eyes gleamed as he listened to Adelyn's assessment. He gave a small nod at Mr. Ulfrey's subtle request for reassurance, and his voice was entirely calm as he spoke. "Of course not; nothing that would put your daughter in harm's way, Harold. Given...

Peter Morrey's small smile only grew as he listened to her analysis, and as she concluded her explanation, he gave her a small round of applause, pawfingers tapping lightly but enthusiastically against the pad of the other paw. "Bravo," he remarked. "Two minutes in the door, and you already see...

Peter beamed as the strange vixen donned her mask once more and took up the book. It was entirely anonymized as to its author, of course; granted, his penmanship might give him away if someone sought to compare it with his personal writings, but that would require suspicion of him to begin with...

Well, that confirmed it; the vixen was crazy. Peter often wondered what was in the Bully Harbor water that so many vixens, in particular, turned out murderously insane. The Rainblade family alone could provide material for an entire psychiatry textbook. The vixen seemed to be at war with an...

Peter laughed at that. "Just as bad as them? Lass, let me venture you an idea here. Say there's a male who's in the habit of killing a random femme once a week. You know who he is, but you've no way to prove it to anyone with the power to stop him. You can follow him and try to stop the killing...

Peter Morrey listened, leaning with one arm on the fireplace mantle, his other paw cradling his own drink. He took a long, slow sip as he watched Adelyn, considering her carefully. "A knack indeed," he mused. "Well, Harry, you certainly raised a fine daughter, and one fiery enough to put this...

Peter chuckled as he led the way down the hall to his office, passing old maps hung on the wall interspersed with small framed portraits of stuffy-looking old jacks with too much fur in the wrong places and not enough in the right ones. "Oh, it's all in the name, really," he remarked, waving a...

Peter leaned back, giving Jill a little more space. "Who said anything about rubbing shoulders?" he mused. "I don't think you can change things from the inside. I don't think anyone can. No, I was thinking more about... accountability. It's corruption in the Imperium that allows the kind of...

Peter Morrey clicked his tongue at the description of the group's activities. So, the Callisparians then. That was a significantly elaborate operation they had going, one that Peter had his eye on for a while. He mulled over the matter as this strange little vixen described her aspirations. He...

Peter Morrey's smirk wasn't dissuaded by the switch to sign. He easily signed back, moving through the gestures as if born to it. "Not a problem in the least. My younger sister, bless her heart, was born hard of hearing, and so mother taught us all." He considered mentioning that Vulpinsulan...

Peter Morrey's ears perked up in interest as he picked up on a bit of murmuring from the Beast. He hadn't heard much; only 'Mask' had been clear. Still, in a city like Bully Harbor, where madbeasts didn't just run free, they were elevated to high office, the possibility of a true lunatic was...

Peter Morrey watched intensely as the doctor communicated her response to the Beast's sign language. "We can let you out of here tonight, if you have someone willing to come pick you up and care for you for the next seven days while you heal," Dr. Volsci noted. "Otherwise, if you intend to leave...

"Beast? Beast!" The doctor snapped her fingers in front of the mask, testing for a response. "Still breathing," Peter confirmed, noticing the rise and fall of the chest and the tinny hiss of breath in the confines of the mask. "He's with us yet." Doctor Volsci was developing her own doubts...

The doctor looked down to the gilders, and her snout winkled, as if they had a bad smell. "I don't believe in charging my patients for my services," she noted, distaste in her voice. "Right now, you're a John Fox. We get a hundred of those a week, at least a quarter of those with knife wounds...

The offices of Armory EXIM Security Company were as nondescript inside as they were without. A few potted shrubs were pushed into barren corners of the room, filling the space with their wilting greenery, while the three walls were largely taken up with three large desks staffed by clerks who...