2-14 “Better than Nothing”

By the time we find Inspector Freeman, Harold's constant blathering is starting to get to me. He was scouring alleyways when we got to one of the men assigned to relay messages. How does he manage to root around in the alleys all day and not get even a smudge on his breastplate? places are quite filthy.

“Sir, this is Harold Wordweaver, a business partner of Peter Moldmaker, he's here to tell you what he knows. We have an enchanted stone of his appropriated for the investigation and he would like it back, if it proves irrelevant to the case.”

“Well, I wouldn't say I'm a partner, more of a-”

“Thank you Nivar.” Interrupting someone? He must be exhausted. “If you could take Ken and do a sweep of the alleyways, it'd speed things along nicely. This area looks like the center of the more recent disappearances.

“Mister Wordweaver, let's go talk someplace more comfortable, no sense standing out in the sun.”

Even something like this is preferable to standby, pretty sure he knows that much about me. Otherwise, it would probably have been an order, most of the others hate alley work. We spend a fair deal of time searching, and bump into another pair of watchmen that are on the same task, nothing to report except which areas they've already scoured. At least there wasn't any muck around to have to dig through, surprisingly dry around here. Ken is rather adept at avoiding and maneuvering around the detritus that is clogging up some of these alleys.

“It's getting close to the end of our shift, lets check one last set across the street from this one and head home, don't worry it's a small one.”

“Starving here, can't wait to get home and eat dinner.”

“Do you do the cooking at home too? When we were out in the woods before you made some surprisingly good stuff.”

“Only one at home to do the cooking, taught myself to cook when I was tired of paying too much for food or eating junk.”

“No one else at home? Have you been looking? I'm sure a lot of women would be impressed by the uniform, and that you can cook like that.”

“No, saving myself for someone back in the hometown, we've been keeping in touch via a pair of enchanted brooches I... obtained from a previous employer. Waiting for the situation down there to be appropriate to get her out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Worse, I really wish I had-”

“Hey! Stop, thief!” We're just approaching the street, they aren't crowded, stall owners are starting to pack up. Probably a snatch and run. Hope he's running this way, I bet there'll be a great look on his face when two watchmen pop out of an alley.

2-13 “Recovery”

The whole point of being on standby is being ready to go on a moments notice. We're up and moving towards the front immediately. Ken grabs a light crossbow and bolt box from the equipment rack we pass leaving the training grounds. Probably a good idea considering we don't know who this wizard is or how powerful he might be. He also seems to have remembered to keep it unloaded until something is actually going down. Showing up at a heated scene with a loaded crossbow doesn't help anything.

We slow down as we near the front desks. No need to barge in and draw attention when people are arguing, we can hear them now. Assistant commander Staghorn is letting someone know that, “You can't have it back until after all pending investigations are closed or the item is proven irrelevant to any open cases.”

We slide into the foyer quietly as our armor allows. Looks like quite a few of us were called in here, that's standard procedure when dealing with spellcasters. You never know how powerful they are by looks alone, best to be prepared. Wait, we just met this guy. Harold is here and already trying to retrieve his magic rock, he seems more flustered than when we met him outside of the statuary.

“How long will that take?! I can't work without my channel stone. How am I supposed to make a living while you sit here with it in your vault?!”

“I'm sorry, but we can't give it back, and I don't know how long it will take. We've got a lot of missing people, many of which are now presumed dead. Reports are still coming in. If you want my advice on the matter, you can find Investigator Freeman. He would love to have a statement from an acquaintance of one of the recently missing, and while you're at it you can give him a full description of your rock and its abilities so we may rule out it's involvement more quickly, if that is the case.”

“I need it back quickly though, you'd better see that it has nothing to do with this! Where can I find Mr. Freeman?”

“Okay then,” the assistant commander looks around at the lot of us that assembled during the argument, “Nivar, Kenneth, you two were on this case, take mister Wordweaver to see the Investigator.” His expression wordlessly adds, “I don't think he's dangerous, but make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rest of the men filter back out of the room. Ken and I motion for Harold to follow us. Investigator Freeman said that he would be checking for leads in the southwestern quarter. I guess we'll see how else we can help once we get there too, just about anything is better than being on standby. Harold is grumbling under his breath again, I wonder how long Staghorn was keeping him tied up before we arrived.

2-8 “Moldmaker House”

Investigator Freeman takes notes while questioning the people in the tavern, no new leads are to be found though. He assigns Ken and I to check on the statuary while he looks for leads among the trader's guilds. Hopefully peter isn't one of those that have gone missing.

This town has gotten so big so fast that it's simple to believe how easy it is for someone to disappear without anyone noticing. People are constantly moving in and more houses and buildings are constructed to accommodate them all. I can't imagine that we'd be able to keep that up without the spells and magical items that the engineers use for construction. Although, those with a lot of money still hire builders for a hand crafted house. With so many new people coming in to town, why would someone target folks that have been around for a while, with contacts or schedules to keep.

It takes us a while to trek down to where Mr. Moldmaker's shop was reported to be. After asking for directions from the local patrol we find the place. It's down a dead end street, a well made sign declaring the 'Best fine metal statues, busts, and animate miniatures in the city.' There's an elderly gentleman looking into the window from the street occasionally knocking on the door and shouting for Peter. He stops when we approach.

“Excuse me, sirs. Would you happen to know if the owner of this shop has been around.” He looks around he is clearly worried about something.

“No, I'm afraid not. We were just looking for him ourselves. Do you know him?”

“Well, not exactly. I'm Harold Wordweaver, I started working with him several days ago, working minor enchantments into some of his smaller creations to let them animate into performing short repeating motions.” He gestures at the display window. One of the smaller silver sculptures depicts a warrior and a dragon each constantly attacking each other in a slow loop. The posture, and incredibly wasteful motions on the warrior's end give away the lack of experience the animator had watching men in actual combat. The warrior's shield has no straps... “But about four days ago he stopped opening up his shop. He never gave me a key, and so I've been coming here and calling for him and checking to see if he's opened up. You see I left an enchanted stone of mine in his workshop, it helps me channel my magics, and I really need it back.”

“Ken, question this fine gentleman, I'm going to see if there's any sign of breaking and entering.”

I circle around the building nothing strange in the alley to its left, but when I look around back there's a broken window and glass all over the floor. Second floor, that's a strange place for a burglar to break in from, there are certainly enough accessible windows on the ground floor here. The overall lack of security for a place dealing in fine metals is fishy. But now it looks like a crime scene, time to get in and take a look around.

“This is now a crime scene. I'm sorry Harold, but your stone might need to be held as evidence. Come by the guard house and you'll be able to learn how to get it back once it has been examined.”

“Blast it, I need that. Just hurry up will you, I can't work without that thing!” He tugs at his long white beard as he leaves, grumbling to himself.

“Door's locked, we're going to have to force our way in it looks like.”

I step back from the door and get ready to test the lock strength with a kick when Ken interrupts me.

“No, no, no, solid oak door, too thick for that sort of thing. You'll just hurt yourself.”

I raise an eyebrow, though my helmet probably makes the expression hard to read, “Really now, and what do you propose?”

Ken crouches down and withdraws something from his boot. A lockpick? Must be. He makes quick work of unlocking the door. “That was easy. Shouldn't someone making even pewter statues have a better lock?”

“Where did you pick that little skill up?”

Ken shifts uncomfortably, “Well let's just say that where I grew up, not knowing something like this was out of the ordinary.” He opens the door, and we go in to check the place out.

2-6 “Heroes”

The tavern is busy during lunch, The dull roar of everyone talking greets me as I enter. The smell of food and alcohol pervades the (mostly) well lit room. The first of the place's owners I run into is, of course, old Sandro, the bouncer.

Sandro was their muscle back when they were fighting monsters in ruins and whatever else it is these treasure hunters used to do for a living. Even in his advanced years he can still put an unruly drunk out the door with ease, and the last guy that tried to rob the place learned that his walking stick isn't to help him get around. The massive scar running across his face draws many questions but no one, as of yet, has been able to get a reliable answer. Every time you ask he comes up with something new.

“Well hello there, Nivar.” He takes a look at Ken as we enter, “Stuck with some new blood, eh?”

“If it's obvious, then I haven't been as useful in helping him train as I had thought.”

Ken get's a look at the scar, “I bet there's a story behind that one.”

“Ah, yes, I will never forget the lesson I learned that day...”

A pause, he always leaves a pause, I think it's so that he has time to come up with something new or perhaps to think back and remember which stories he's already told the current listener. I've heard about ten different explanations for that scar, from the serious to the absurd.

“Never shave with your magical dagger.”

“You never had a magic dagger, Sandro!” That would be Dekrom, the serious dwarf is always quick to dispel any of Sandro's fantasies. Dekrom currently works as the cook and sometimes waiter of the tavern. From what I've gathered, he is a wizard and not one of low caliber. If he see's someone about to get unruly he often takes the initiative of casting a sleep spell or some other similar enchantment to save Sandro the trouble of a fight.

The two start a very colorful exchange of the sort you only see between two friends, this is always a good moment to let them be and move on to the bar. The fellow that the victim talked to on the day he was killed is not around today. Oh well, hopefully I can glean some useful information from Selena, the bartender. If you ask her she'll tell you she was the groups scout, and that 'Oh no, I've never used my skills for anything illegal,' but while I've yet to catch her at it, she is a pickpocket at the least. The way she puts it is that she 'always gets a tip' even if the barfly in question didn't leave her one intentionally.

She and Dekrom started running this place when Sandro's old age finally stopped him from being able to fight the type of things they planned on encountering on their treasure hunts. The elves and dwarves live so much longer than we do, I wonder if befriending humans is hard on them? It would explain why their kingdoms tend to be so isolationist.

She gives us a smile, “It's so rare for you to bring a friend Nivar. On duty or off? Not that it changes what you order.”

“On duty, so nothing heavy for the kid here.” She knows that I only come here on duty if I have questions.

Ken look a little downtrodden, “I guess it'll be lemonade for me then.”

She already knows what I always order.

2-3 “Spiritual Severance”

“Is there something blocking the spell?” Frustration is clear on the investigator's face.

“No, there's nothing blocking the spell but the spirit is out of contact.”

“Can you tell why?”

“I'm afraid not, there are several reasons this could happen. From simply not wanting to talk to being the victim of a soul devourer. There are two that I would say are most likely though: He may have been slain by an enchanted weapon designed to sever spiritual connections, or his spirit may have been twisted into a vengeful wraith or specter due to the circumstances of his death. Have any such ghosts been reported in the area?”

Ghosts aren't our jurisdiction, though we generally get reports of them. Those get sent ahead to one of the nearby temples, the priests carry out any necessary exorcisms or exterminations. The thought of destroying a ghost always gives me a chill.

“No, it was probably the weapon. They are easy enough to come by, their legitimate use is for dealing with the undead. Unfortunately, they also make murder harder to trace, and prevent resurrection in high profile cases where the victim can afford such treatment. Did you bring the stuff you need to cast that viewing spell?”

“Yes, of course I can give you the 'Eyes of the Dead.' The rest of you should step outside for a moment if you don't want to be caught up in the spell too, it isn't an altogether pleasant experience.”

Kristoph pulls a very grim face with that. Kenneth and the four that carried the coffin turn and leave. I'm not about to be scared off by something like that.

“I'll help however I can.”

“As you wish, sit on the floor with Mr. Freeman. It makes the experience more bearable at the end.”

Kristoph starts taking various vials, and small pouches out from his sleeves. Investigator Freeman sits down at the foot of the stone slab resting his back on it. He pulls out a pair of embroidered silk gloves and puts them on. Then he takes a pen and notebook from a pouch at his belt.

“Okay, Nivar, I bet you haven't done this before. We're going to experience some of this poor fellow's last day, and see what we can gather from his point of view. Just try to focus and remember what you can of the places you see. I'll focus on the details. Oh, and be ready for this to hurt.”

“Pain is something I'm used to, Sir.”

I sit along the wall nearest the stone pedestal, not the most comfortable thing to do in armor. Kristoph makes an outline around the body with some sort of fine red powder. He begins a chant and the world starts to get hazy.

2-2 “Spooks”

We arrive at the Temple of the Hammer's mortuary. The rancid scent of the body immediately dissipates. Always happens when we come down here, there's probably a spell of some sort responsible for that. Torches line the walls, offering a good amount of light to see by, though the lack of windows is still apparent. Whenever we have an unidentified body, we take it here. They keep the body in some sort of stasis for a few days to let us find out who they are before burial, let loved ones know. We also take the time to see if a wizard can gather any information from the body or spirit, according to them, temples amplify magics relating to spirits.

'Spooks' shows up to prepare a slab for the body to rest on. The clergy of this temple leave the mortuary to him, only coming out here when funerary rites need to be performed.

The local gravedigger and manager of the bodies awaiting burial, Lawrence Tunneler, looks so much like a corpse himself that he's earned that nickname among the watch. Add to that the way he moves, stiff, jarring motions with the least joint bending possible. If anyone could be mistaken for the walking dead, it would be Spooks. Investigator Freeman, greets him.

“Hello, Lawrence, same song and dance as usual. Has the wizard shown up yet?”

“No, sir. Was just me an' the dead until you showed up.” Even his voice rasps in a way that you could easily imagine coming from someone not quite alive.

We open the coffin, and hoist the body onto a stone platform.

“No clothes? We'll have to fix that a'fore burial. You find 'im this way?”

“Yes, I thought it was odd that someone would take the time to undress a body after killing them. Hopefully it'll help us find the killer.”

“Well, I s'ppose I'll leave you to your business then. Give me a shout when you're done. Sooner they get frozen the better.”

Spooks totters off, leaving us alone with the body, for a while. We seem to have hired a loud one.

“Hello! Your master diviner had arrived!”

He bounces his way into the room, brightly colored robes contrasting sharply with the stone walls.

“So this is the errant body? Well then, let's find out what has befallen this poor fellow!”

“You can cut the act, Kristoph, there's no-one here for you to impress...” Freeman looks annoyed, and his tone engenders familiarity.

“Cut to the chase is it, my friend? Well then I shall, first I will try to speak with the departed spirit, if that fails I will see what I can gather from the body.”

Kristoph begins his arcane chant placing a crystal ball on the deceased's chest. A slight radiance issues forth from the sphere, followed by a vulgar sound and a sizable cloud of light gray smoke bursts forth. If that smoke usually had a smell, it's deadened in the mortuary. In just a few moments the smoke rises and leaves through one of the funnels in the ceiling. I'm fairly certain the spirit world just passed gas at us, master diviner indeed...

“Well, I see this is going to get complicated...” Kristoph looks both amused and disappointed at the same time.