Kalam nods to the Doc, "Well I'll leave you three to it. See what you can uncover. Meet back here at dusk for an update?"
"I cannot imagine what I would need. Maybe a decent vintage?"
"Your plans are always spot on, Kalam. I think we can pull off an infiltration into the city guard. I'll just need some time to put together a bit of a disguise for the two of us."
"Yours should be a rather simple affair my friend. A little bluster and an innate sense of superiority...yes, just like that, perfect!"
Check to see identify the name of a higher level officer attached to the watch's investigation :
Kalam knows a few guardsmen but none that are known to be attached to these murders yet.
"Seems that steel trap of a mind has failed you, eh?" Daeron says as Kalam struggles to come up with an officer's name.
Kalam admires his attire in a mirror, "This should do beautifully, my friend. Very official."
He nods to the quartermaster, "My thanks again! Now, I we needed someone to coordinate pageboys between ourselves, where would we look? Could messages be left at the Bronze House above perhaps?"
Daeron recalls hearing that a Lieutenant Lowell, a young and well liked member of Magnimar's city guard, was involved in the investigations involved with a series of messy murders. He's generally aware of his appearance.
With the name of someone proper to have called Daeron into the investigation Kalam sees to the last minute work around the Crossroads.
Before he leaves the armory, Kalam picks up a scroll case, some parchment, and some charcoal. As a last minute though he adds a shield to his outfit. Leaving, Kalam make final arrangements with the Bronze House about managing contact between the two groups.
That done he gives the others a wink, "Alright you three, see what you can pull up? We'll see what we can dig up about these masks."
He then sets out in as official a capacity as possible, escorting Daeron to the main offices of the city guard, where such evidence as these occult masks would be held.
Along the way, Daeron works on his Chelish accent. The words came relatively easy to him—he had grown up in the country, but had heard enough to match the city-speak to near perfection.
"My name is Stills. Alastair. My name is Alastair Stills," he says with a slight trill to the final "r".
His back extra straight, a pair of glasses low on his nose, Daeron has become the investigator.
Right. When people die, paperwork follows. He had done quite a few autopsies and as a result knew how these things worked - you fill in the paperwork, the involved people read them through and unless something is terribly off, it disappears into a file cabinet. In this case, things seemed to be terribly off. Even worse, plenty of other groups were doing research into the matter and Abramov wasn't planning on being the one in the group to tip off other parties that they were trying to solve this mystery in the name of the Aspis consortium. This presented a dilemma. He had to step forward and request the documents while requesting meant being tipped off. Could he perhaps disguise his interest by using his profession as a guise, a mask he'd wear at all times when seen in public? To do that meant that if they were discovered, everyone knew he had something to hide. Hm, he didn't like that thought. Not one bit.
Abramov scratched his head, but couldn't get the itch to go away. He eyed himself in the mirror: the worn outfit and hat did their duty. He looked like a dusty scholar, someone who prayed to Abadar. That was good. Now, the hard bit: getting his hands on some records that contained the information he so desired.
When people die under suspect circumstances, the city watch investigates it. This is one paper trail Abramov could follow, but he'd need some leverage to get them to share it. Unless they were so desperate for help that they were willing to share it with just anyone. Still, best to have a back-up plan. And right now, he didn't have one.
Once dead, they're normally buried or cremated. Or, if they're rich, put into a mausoleum or the basement of some temple. The doctor eyed the list: the family of four who were found dead in their house immediately got his attention. Unlike the others, they weren't too high-profile or attached to the underworld. Asking around about dead Sczarni in the shadow of the bridge? Heh, he wouldn't unless he absolutely had to.
His first destination was the street the family of four lived at.
There, he'd go for a stroll through the immediate vicinity of the house where four people met their gruesome end. They were butchers, most likely living in a working class environment. Here there must be gossipy neighbours, like an older woman who's constantly peering through the window or leaning out of one to see what's going on. These four fought, a lot, so if he got one or two people talking, the gossipy crone might even step forward and join the conversation, knowing that there's a victim who can't help but listen to what she has to say.
Yolanda sets up shop at the designated inn to drink and eat until her skills, observant eye, or pleasing manner are required.
The dossier doesn’t have details for all the murders but it seems that the bulk of the case is being handled at the Dockway watch station. With that in mind, Daeron and Kalam head that way.
Between the local criminal element, smugglers, and regular trouble from rowdy sailors, the Dockway watch station is perpetually busy and like the district it inhabits, never rests. As Daeron and Kalam enter, they have to squeeze by a trio of battered drunks, shackled to a railing. The three guards in the station’s front room salute Kalam and nod to Daeron.
”Good morning sir. We’ll have these drunks in a holding cell as soon as we finish with their paperwork”, the youngest of the guards says nervously.
Kalam returns the guard's salute, "Very good, sooner rather than later would be preferable, son. This lot stink to high heaven. But never mind all that..."
He turns to Daeron with an apologetic look, "You'll have to excuse the mess investigator, you know what a pain these seafaring types can be."
Kalam returns his gaze to the young guard, "The investigator here has convinced Lieutenant Lowell to attach him to the Dockland Murders case. We're to show him every courtesy."
***
The young guard, realizing he's suddenly in the spotlight, straightens up and nods fervently. "Of course. These two can handle the drunks. What do you need investigator?"
The doctor first dug into his own brain. What did he know of the neighbourhood? The people that lived there? He mulled on that as they walked towards the scene of the crime, occassionally venting his thoughts to Halsanna, mentioning this or that about the neighbourhood, the things he knew about it and all that. Letting it out was like taking it off the shelf. By placing what he needed out in front of him, he could order it and bring structure to it. For that, he was grateful that Halsanna accompanied him. Oh, he really ought to get an undead assistent! Preferably a pretty female one. She'd just listen, not talk and do as he asked. Could life get any better?
Then came the hard part. He'd have to talk to people. Actually breathing specimens! They might figure out he's doing research on the murders in name of some larger organisation. Oh, it wouldn't do to betray his employer. No, that would be bad. Like finding yourself on a sacrificial altar of Lamashtu with a wicked dagger hanging above your family jewels. No, making mother Zelda angry would be bad. Very very bad. Abramov had these fears circulating inside his head when he went out into the neighbourhood to interview some of its denizens.
As the Lady Yll sits and drinks, she knows that someone else besides for the murderer knows why all this tedious nonsense is going on. When more than one person knows a secret, it doesn't stay a secret long. So, she decides to abandon Kalam's plan and let her feet and her intuition guide her to new friends who are just itching to share.
Abramov has trouble finding any decent leads. Even after canvasing the area three times, everyone he speaks to either isn't willing to talk or can only tell him what's already know. Halsanna however has a bit more luck. She spots an older varisian woman pushing a cart of sweets down the street. As it turns out, the street is part of her regular route.
"Yeah, I knew the family. I've been selling their kids candies since they were old enough to walk. They used to be so sweet..."
Yolanda's wandering initially yields little but her appreciation for the finer things eventually brings her to the Alabaster district and bar specializing in fine wines known as the Nereid's Kiss. It's a far cry from the dives she started the night at and is mostly occupied by scholars and students. Her gentle questioning eventually gets directed to a older taldan man, balding, with a wild gleam in his eyes.
"I've heard about the killings alright and I tell you, it's serious!"
"Oh? Do tell. I mean it's a tragedy, of course, but how is it worse than any other serial killer?" the Lady Yll drawls softly. Random murder is just a hazard of urban life.
Some of the others present rolls their eyes at the ranting of Yolanda's company. It seems he's known and not well liked.
"The masks, have you seen them? They're not a calling card or some kind of signature from the killer. The masks connect the victims... You wouldn't understand but it's happened before. Here. In Varisia!"
"I love a good ghost story. Terrify me. What happened before? I find wine is best for memory." The noblewoman gestures for another round.
The crazy old man, happy to have someone willing to listen, goes on.
"A few years ago there was a religious group running around the Ordellia district calling themselves the Skinsaw cult. Magnimar isn't lacking for cults but this one was... different. They were devotees of old power. Power that hasn't walked Golarion for ages. I'm talking about the Runelords."
Abramov observed. Maybe there was something he could learn from Halsanna here.
"Maybe it is because I'm drunk, but you aren't making much sense. How do these masks connect the victims? Why do you think this cult has any connection to these murders?"
"Not riff-raff. No, they started to squabble just like their parents. They'd fight all the time - and I don't mean the kind of scraps kids get into normally. These were hateful bloody scraps."
"It's the same but different", the old man explains with growing frustrating. "The same but different!"
The crowd begins to grumble in complaint.
"The masks dedicate the victims to their masters - feeds the dead's soul to them. The Skinsaw claimed them by marking their flesh. The Dockway killer takes their faces!"
Kalam answers the young guard's question, "Investigator Stills here will be wanting to look over all the evidence you've collected on the murders thus far."
"To whom were these murders dedicated then? And what made these people appealing sacrifices? I love a good ghost story as much as the next girl, but the fright is in the details."
She laughs and orders another round for her immediate area.
"Anything. Everything", she explains.
Halsanna sees an assortment of treats, all fresh and aromatic - candied apples, sticky taffy, and chocolate-dipped berries. The woman smiles when she catches Halsanna eyeing her wares.
"Some people are just mean by nature I suppose."
The young guard nods. "Right this way sirs."
Leading Kalam and Ambramov deeper into the station, the group passes the offices where dutiful guards fill out reports about incidents and holding cells for criminals waiting to be sent to other parts of Magnimar's judicial system. After a short walk the group arrives at a heavily locked door which the guard produces a key to open. He pauses before the key touches the lock.
"I'm so empty-headed", the young guard says nervously.
He reaches up to a sheaf of parchment hanging from a cord with a mess of text scrawled across its pages. "The investigator needs to sign in first. You know how it is."
Enticed by the free glasses of wine and the prospect of impressing the amethyst-skinned beauty the grumblers grow quiet allowing the mad scholar to tell his tale.
"That's all there this to tell I'm afraid. I've tried to tell the watch captains but they won't listen - they never listen. The Dockway Butcher will strike again and again until someone listens!
[b]"If you want to survive the nights to come, live a life free of anger and strife. All of the Butcher's victims cultivate wrath in their hearts above all else."
Kalam nods, "Right you are lad."
He turns back to the "Investigator", "If you please, Investigator. Wouldn't do to skimp on procedure for a case of this importance."
The "Investigator" gives a tight smile and a nod before signing the ledger in a practiced, flowing script.
He gestures to the door, "Now if you would be so kind?"
"What runelord was associated with Wrath? How do you suppose this murderer got mixed up in this cult business?"
The young guard glances at the signature briefly and then finishes unlocking the door. "Take your time investigator. I'll lock up when you're done."
***
The mad scholar suddenly appears upset. "Young people these days. They want all the answers! I'll tell you only because you're a looker. Her name was Alaznist."
Investigator Stills nods to the young guard and turns to Kalam with an imperious expression, "Very good, if you would assist me?"
Kalam nods with a flat expression, "Of course, Investigator."
Kalam follows the Investigator inside and they set about locating the evidence associated with the dockland murders...
Abramov offers the coppers and silvers the woman asks for her wares and picks something that he can chew on. If it is yummy, he then later has an excuse to seek her out again .. and perhaps ask her some more questions.
"Did those boys ever buy anything from you?"
The Lady Yll responds to the man's ire with a coy smile, and reaches over to pat his hand.
"Yes, aren't young people simply the worst? I prefer those with a bit more experience myself. Even in this fine establishment and at this late hour your erudition penetrates so . . . deeply. Tell me how did you come to learn so much of these matters?"
'Investigator Stills' finds the small crate bearing all of the evidence for the dockland murders. Unfortunately, there's not much. Besides the masks recovered from each of the scenes, there's a log describing the condition of the victims' remains. Lastly, there's an invoice from a nearby alchemical lab describing work done on the case.
"Yes, they used to buy treats from me. Most of the children on this street do. It's how I make my living."
The "Investigator" and Kalam take their time pouring over what evidence is available.
Daeron looks over the log, attempting to discern any patterns evident to the injuries aside from the attachment of the masks.
Kalam notes the name and location of the alchemist's lab and looks for any insights they made note of on the invoice.
That done they both carefully look over the masks. Searching for any clues as to their origin or purpose. As well as attempting to determine if any of the masks might be different from the others in some way.
Kalam gives the masks a once over with Detect Magic to identify any enchantments on them.
The masks are a terrifying monstrous portrayal of a man/woman consumed by rage and besides some minor imperfections, they are nearly identical. They’re made from a rigid yet semi-flexible material and most are stained by the blood of the victims they were removed from. The invoice has no details. It’s just a work order – Docklands Murder Mask Analysis. The estimated date for completion of the work is tomorrow.
Looking over the records for the victims, it because increasingly likely that the killer is more than one person. Certain elements of the murders are consistent and carefully planned. Others are obviously uncontrolled, like the cause of the victims’s deaths. If there is a trend, it would be edged weapons. Roughly half of the victims were killed by some kind of knife or other small blade.
Their work completed, sets about putting everything away while the "Investigator" slips one of the masks into his coat.
Once ready Kalam leads them both back into the hall.
***
Feeling like he had squeezed everything he could out of her, for now, Abramov thanked the woman and ended the conversation. Once out of the reach of her ears, he eyed Halsanna. "I feel like we haven't been told everything there is to this story. A violent family spawns forth a couple of violent boys. They do, just like all the other kids, like the sweets she sells. Was their condition a mental one? A physiological abnormality? Or were they perhaps not completely humans? I've read that those born with the essence of otherworldly creatures can possess faculties, instincts and urges that deviate from the normal human ones. Which makes you wonder about the Shoanti, doesn't it .. but I digress. Do you care to stop by their house, see if we can take a look inside? "
If the hall is empty Kalam and Daeron will head back to the main entrance.
"Investigator Stills" looks at the young guard, "I believe that's everything for the moment. It's a shame you don't have more evidence to show after so many deaths. But then, that's what I'm here for I suppose..."
Provided there is nothing else, he sweeps out of the guardhouse.
Kalam offers the guard a long suffering look before heading out after the "Investigator".
Once outside, Kalam lets out a long sigh, "Like candy from a baby, now if only they could have obliged us by being a bit more competent in their investigation. Still, not a total loss. We can at least be fairly sure we're looking for more than one killer."
He gives Daeron a questioning look, "So where too now Investigator?"
The elf takes a quick look at the sun before frowning, "Actually, I have something I need to take care of myself. I'm sure such and upstanding member of the city guard can handle things from here."
Kalam sighs, "Oh of course, we wouldn't want you developing calluses on those delicate hands by actually putting in a full day's work now would we?"
With a final farewell to his friend, Kalam takes a look around, planning his next move.