The grey light of dawn breaks through the dismal smudge that is the air of East Ending, barely beginning to illuminate the broken cobbled streets. The streets run between ancient tenements that seem to sag against each other as if in exhaustion and whose windows look out like blank, soulless eyes. It is the domain of the lost and the defeated, and the last place you’d choose to be at this — or any — hour.
A large, black sewer rat scurries through one of the many puddles of effluvia that gather among the cobbles as it runs for cover at your approach. The early morning air is chill, but the cloudless sky promises to bring an oppressively hot day, especially here among the tall buildings and narrow alleys where a decent breeze can’t ever seem to reach. At least with the morning chill, the reek of the streets and those that live upon them hasn’t yet set in for the day.
Trudging through the ubiquitous puddles and potholes, you see your destination ahead. Among the darkened structures and rotten fencing that make up this alley stands one small hovel from which lamplights burn. The distinctive red rope of the Office of the Watch cordons off the door. It is a crime scene, and the familiar figure of one of the Watch officers stands in the doorway, illuminated by the lamp within.
The figure is Inspector Hogan Muncy, a detective of the Watch and an acquaintance for the past several years. You can’t say that you know him well, but your paths have crossed in your personal circles and developed into, if not exactly a friendship, at least something of a mutual respect. He is the reason that you gather in this godsforsaken place at this godsforsaken hour on this godsforsaken street. The Constable of the Watch that roused you from your slumber an hour ago simply said that Inspector Muncy had requested your assistance with an investigation and to gather your gear and come as quickly as you were able.
He then escorted you into the benighted slums of East Ending and left you to continue on your own a block back. Joining you under escort of their own respective Constables are other men and women of shared acquaintance with both yourselves and the Inspector. There doesn't look to be rhyme or reason... yet... for why he's brought a number of civilians into play when the Watch is at his disposal... but the Constables were hardly forthcoming under questioning. From the way that they've faded back into shadow and filth, it seems that your meeting with the good inspector is to be in private.
Inspector Muncy lights his pipe and steps out into the street to intercept you before you get a chance to glance into the doorway behind him. He looks the part of the quintessential Watch Inspector as he has every time you’ve seen him, from his regulation moustache and sideburns, to his tweed jacket and pants, to his long coat from whose pocket his tiny Watch shield is suspended, to his city-issued, square-toed leather brogans. Even the brown bowler atop his balding head screams “official business”. However professional his demeanor is, his eyes look tired and his face a bit pallid.
At your approach, Muncy retrieves a small wax tablet from his coat pocket and clears his throat as he reviews his notes. “Let’s see. The deceased is one William Hughe, approximate age 70, at time of death, ‘Old Bill’ to the few people around here that knew him. He was a tinker by trade, though I get the idea he hadn’t done much business in a long time and mainly lived off the bread lines and charity houses. Didn’t get out much, didn’t have any friends as far as we know."
“Bill’s body was discovered about three hours ago by a pair of street sweepers making their nightly rounds. They noticed that the residence was lit and the front door standing open… something no one in their right mind would do in the middle of the night in East Ending. The sweepers found the decedent inside and immediately ran to the nearest Watch Station seven blocks from here to report the crime. The constables immediately cordoned off the area and called me. No one has been in or out since then other than me, and what I found prompted me to call you in. Before you go in I must warn you, the scene is…shocking to say the least.”
The knock on the door makes Tania wince at the window and search for cues in the heavens. It did look a little bright. Perhaps it was not so unforgivably early for one to come knocking.
With an insisting hand, she pushes the young men lying against her naked body. A nice boy, to think of it, and performing adorably too. Yes, a rare find perhaps. Time would tell.
Finally up, she puts on a long silken shirt and pulls a dagger from its sheath, just in case. The door has a bolt allowing only a crack. Through it, she sees the uniform and gets the message. Not much, but she knows better than to cross Muncy, somshe gets dressed and ready for a long day.
When she arrives at the scene, she gives the barest of nod to the inspecteur, still peeved at being pulled from a bed and a body, but his warning makes her forget abounall that. With a palpitating heart, she gets in, after the others.
Gnitt had only been asleep for a couple of hours when his secretary Hetta took to banging on his door. He opened it with a sleepy scowl, garbed only in his night shirt. "Someone had better have died, or broken into the coffers to forgive this intrusion".
Hetta handed him the summons, then quickly scampered away so as not to draw too much of his ire. With a sigh Gnitt pockets the missive, and begins to gather his adventuring gear. Well I guess I can sleep when I'm dead.
He quickly downs an extra strong cup of Kava, then hastens to the area relieved to see some familiar and known competent faces gathered at the crime scene. Except for the dark circles under his eyes he is excited to do something besides balance accounts, and discipline unruly orphans.
"Greetings Tania. Hope this summons didn't pull you away from anything... important".
"Shall we step inside and see what we can determine"?
Fiterri barely heard the knocks until they became quite determined. His night chambers, high in a garret precariously poking above the surrounding tenements. The peaked windows showed no light in the east.
Cursing his own illumination into existence on the fresh candle on his nightstand, Fiterri pulled on some trousers, tucking in his nightshirt. With a whistle, the light left the candle and a lit on the silver bird atop his staff. Together, him and staff stumped their way down the numerous staircases.
Fiterri called within earshot of his door, "Hold on. Coming," in an effort to ensure the door remained on its hinges. Finally opening the door, a Constable was revealed looking perturbed. "Constable, is there a problem?"
"Quite. Inspector Muncy requested your presence. And that was a while ago, I might add. You are to come right away with me."
"If there was a hurry, you should have come here straight way." The Constable made to interject but Fiterri turned away from him heading back into his cluttered shop toward the rear stairs. "The night is not fir for a nightshirt. I must dress and collect certain items I am sure the Inspector will like me to bring. You are free to stay in here while you wait.
As Fiterri's light diminished, the store took on a more eerie quality with its stuffed animals in unnatural poses, jars of odd anatomy in different colored fluids, and bins labeled with things no one should come looking for, in between mundane piles of old shirts, a box of assorted shoes, and shelves of repaired crockery. But it was the smell of incense and spice trying to cover a smell of...just wrongness, that set the Constable to only linger in the doorway and its more familiar disgusting smells.
Ten minutes passed before Fiterri returned in a black suit, with high black boots. His black hair slicked back and small beard groomed and pointed. A pair of specacles rode low on his long nose. He retrieved his large black coat and took a moment going through its pockets. At the door he pulled his tall round-topped capotain and long muffler off a hook and presented himself as ready. Many thought him an odd looking undertaker, but he was just sensible, in that black hid the splash of dark river mud better.
The walk was not long and a familiar crowd was growing, although it was unusual to see them all together. "Inspector Muncy. Glad to be of assistance again. I am sure your Constable did his best in alerting me to your request." He taps the wide brim of his hat to the inspector but then removes it and bows. "Miss Teg. It has been far too long." He puts his hat back on and mutters, "Enohp"
After listening to the Inspector's introduction, "I knew the man when I was younger. Had not seen much of him of late. It is sad that you felt to need to call me in on his death. Fiterri pulls a silk cloth from a coat pocket and holds it beneath his chin, "Let's proceed."
As Gnitt passes in fromt of him and greets her, Tania just manages to nod. The man had a reputation. Of course, the streets of the Blight had reputations, yes, more than one most times, for everyone, but Gnitt's had more grit to it. A darker shade of grit that gave Tania pause.
The inspecteur asked for him after all... she thinks and decides to hold judgment on the man.
Fiterri's arrival and in particular his courteous bow brings a naughty smile on her face. "Oh Fiterri, how I have missed you!"
Joe suppressed a sigh as he stood in the shadows across the street,
watching a constable pound on his door. He'd been bored, and gone
walking the rooftops last night, but hadn't actually been up to
anything. He thought back on his recent activities, and while he had
gotten really drunk the other night, he hadn't actually been in a bar
fight in a while. He was pretty sure. He figured too that they
wouldn't send just one if they wanted to arrest him for something, so
he mentally shrugged, and cleared his throat as he stepped into the
street.
"What brings one of the watch's finest to my door at this hour?"
He felt a smirk trying to form on his face as the constable explained.
Muncy wanted HIM to aid in an investigation? The man must truly be
desperate, Joe thought to himself as he walked along, keeping his face
expressionless. He was successful right up until he saw the group
Muncy had assembled, at which point he felt like his eyebrows were
trying to crawl off the top of his head. Fiterri he could kind of see,
and maybe Lucetta. But Gnitt? And Tania? Something had always seemed a
bit off about her after the Golden Dice burned down. Not to mention
that was the only bar he'd ever been thrown out of where he hadn't
actually done anything. He grinned inwardly at the thought. Of course, he himself seemed the least likely of all. Though he'd always been very selective in the types of jobs he took, by this point Muncy had to at least suspect, even if he couldn't prove, Joe's involvement in various extra legal activities. No, if this seemed like it impinged on guild business, he'd probably have to tell Muncy he'd already accepted a job on a ship leaving port tomorrow or the next day.
Joe nodded noncommittally to everyone present as he lit his own pipe,
and wondered what in the nine hells was going on. If nothing else,
with this crew, things were bound to get interesting. He felt his
eyebrows rise again at Muncy calling the scene shocking. For an
inspector of the watch in this city to say that, especially to this
group...
Joe mentally steeled himself as he prepared to follow everyone inside.
Muncy sighs and smooths out his muttonchops before taking a draught from his pipe. He's slightly relieved it seems by not needing to answer any follow up questions - and instead waves you through to experience the sights for yourselves.
The inside of the hovel looks like the site of a massacre. The entry room is small and doubles as a both a sitting room and a kitchen. A door leads back into a small bedroom. A small table next to the bedroom door holds the lit lamp that was apparently set there by Bill before he was killed, though the wick in it has burned down and is about to go out. It has obviously been lit for several hours. The window next to the front door has been broken out, and the glass shards all lie on the floor of the hovel alongside a broken cobble clearly taken from the street outside, confirming that it was broken from the street and likely served as the murderer’s point of entry since the front door does have a perfectly serviceable bolt on it.
Old Bill himself, still in his night clothes, lies gruesomely dismembered in the centre of the floor in a pool of gore. He was clearly a victim of many of his own tinker knives and tools at the hands of someone who bore him great animosity. The blood-stained tools themselves lie scattered about the room as if they were thrown away in anger after they were used. Only the upper portions of the old man’s face and his staring, open eyes were spared the villain’s brutal ministrations — perhaps to better see and appreciate the killer’s handiwork. The semicongealed blood on the floor and the corpse confirm that this murder occurred within the last few hours, sometime after nightfall last evening.
The knock on the door of the open shop was unusual but not unexpected for this time of the morning. Lucetta was grinding fire seeds in to paste as the constable loomed in the doorway.
State your piece, it's too early in the day to stand on ceremony, Muncy I presume?
At the young watchman nodded, Lucetta pushed the bowl aside and took off her apron, dropping it on top.
One minute...
Moving through the shop she bumped the edge of the shadowed cot at the back of the storeroom, waking the girl currently tangled in the mismatched blankets.
Kara... Kara I have to go out for a while, you have to mind the shop...
Strapping on her satchel and ensuring her tools and blades were where they should be, Lucetta stayed only long enough for Kara to give her a tense hug goodbye as she was moving out the door, the sleepy desire in her eyes quickly replaced by concern and unease.
Later, don't wait up...
Gliding back past the constable she waited for him to lead on.
*
It seemed odd that the inspector would call upon so many, though thankfully all familiar faces. Lucetta nodded and smiled as each of the others arrived, keeping her own council as the Inspector outlined the situation. It was a relief when Muncy acknowledged the last of those he had brought together and ushered everyone inside.
Taking care not to touch anything, Lucetta eyes flick from place to place, analysing and cataloguing.
How very odd... she muses, one slender finger pointing to a smear of blood on the floor.
Seem's to be a child's footprint, and it's the only evidence there was another person here aside from Bill...
She crouches down near some of the implements, sniffing, turning this way and that. Finally she stands.
So entry by the window, surprise Bill when he comes to investigate the noise. You'll note no ropes or restraints here though, whoever it was caused all that damage, and took their time about it judging by the number of implements, and yet...
she turns to the Inspector
Have your men spoken to the neighbours? Did they hear nothing?!
One finger taps her lips
Well magic for sure, either cloaking the screams, or holding Bill in place so he couldn't scream. Would any child have the training, power or strength to do this?
Her hands open to encompass the others.
What do you think?
Fiterri steps past Lucetta and the footprint, peering down through his glasses, "Little small for one of my 'larkers'. How about you Gnitt? One of your 'angels' missing tonight?"
Fiterri makes a circuit of the room. The silver bird atop his staff glows to provide more light. With his free hand he pulls a small metal stick from a pocket. Giving it a shake, it extends a foot and a half. He uses it to tap and lift each knife as he makes his round examining each closely.
"These knives mostly seem the tinker's. I can check that further but will allow your specialties to have their moment before I handle them. I just ask to be careful in handling them and do not 'use' them in any sense as you could overwrite the energies swirling around each. Although with such violence associated with them it may be hard to get a clear sense of the attacker, particularly over years of the Tinker's energy imbued in them."
Fiterri steps back and tries to give the room the wider view. So the killer did not bring a weapon, relying on a house of tinker knives. Well thought out, or extremely fortuitous? And a child, or small humanoid...killer or accomplice?...A child could more easily gain access through the window..."The cobblestone, of course. Its innocence in this should hold some answers." Fiterri walks to the smashed window and lifts the stone. First peering at it through his glasses looking for marks where it may have pried from the street or if grime cover all sides if it were loose. He then pulled a tiny lever on his glasses and the lens went purplish-black. He pushed the glasses further up his nose and more carefully examined the rock. His head tilting from side to side as he studied it, all conversation in the room drifting away during his concentration. He filtered away years of weather and traffic, wheels and feet of people and animals. He ignored it all except the last impressions, like the tiniest of bumps on smooth egg. Someone held this stone but a few hours ago whereas it had likely not been handled since the road was laid long ago. The rock poised before the window. Who is holding it? What is their demeanor? Furious like the attack? Scared, like afraid of being caught? Or more sinister, was it calm, like a well-conceived plan was under way?
At 2nd level, an occultist learns how to read information from items he examines.
Examining an item in this way requires him to spend 1 minute handling the item. If the item is a magic item, the occultist learns its properties and command word as if he had successfully examined the item using detect magic and succeeded at a Spellcraft check. This ability does not reveal whether the item is cursed unless the occultist's class level is equal to or greater than the caster level of the item. If the item has any historical significance, the occultist learns one piece of information about its past (as determined by the GM). Finally, if the item was last used no longer than 1 day ago per the occultist's class level, the occultist learns one piece of information about the last creature to use the item. This information might be a glimpse of the creature's appearance, a brief vision of what it saw while using the item, or perhaps its emotional state when it last used the item. The GM determines what information is gained in this way. This functions like the psychometry occult skill unlock, but doesn't require a skill check and can be used at will.
Perception
Gnitt enters the room with the others, however his eyes are not as sharp as they used to be, and he doesn't notice the footprint till it is pointed out.
He gives a bit of a chuckle at Fiterri's quip.
"Probably. There are most nights, but there is always another candidate for a cold bed".
He then moves to the corpse to investigate it carefully. He want's to try and determine what might have been the killing wound, if ideed it was the weapons that caused the death. He also looks at the shatterd glass for any other blood stains, that might have happened when something "Barefooted" walked through the glass.
Heal Check
Bit of Luck 1 of 6
Gnitt looks for signs of blood stains upon the glass or any other surface that might suggest a trace of the attacker's fluids... but is unable to discern any. It would appear as though all of the blood, and there is a thoroughly impressive quantity of it strewn hither and thither, is derived from their dismembered corpse.
He struggles similarly with the assay of attempting to find the 'primal' wound. Near every vital organ within the man's trunk has been perforated and his tinkering tools deployed in efficient, brutal and creative manners. The best that Gnitt can think is that it was one of the blades that did the deed, without being able to pinpoint or specify which.
Fiterri recoils and drops the stone. A handkerchief is quickly in his hand to wipe his face, knocking his glasses off. Catching the glasses awkwardly, he takes a moment to clean them, giving him some time to regain his composure.
Resetting his glasses, Fiterri straightens up and addresses the others. "As is obvious, a powerful spirit was here. That footprint was left by the wielder of the knives and who broke the window. But I am not sure it is our killer. I sensed a dual presence. One in great fear but with deep spite and hatred within. The fear attached to the rock seemed from an entity that is indeed the size of a small child and not that of the victim. Be it a spiritual or demonic possession of an actual child I cannot say, versus the possibility of some 'imp-like' creature driven by unknown forces."
Fiterri looks back down at the body and the scatter of deadly implements, With this knowledge, I will forego examining the knives at this time. The victim's fear and pain combined with the killer's rage may incapacitate me if I open myself to the murder weapon." He bends down and retrieves his 'wand' to poke a bloody blade onto his handkerchief. Picking up the cloth square by the corners he cradles the knife up. Replacing the wand in a pocket, he produces a small, elongated wooden box, just large enough to hold such an implement. Once the knife was lowered into it, he snaps the box shut and slips it into his pocket. "For later, if we run out of leads. I will have to make the Inspector a receipt. But he instead turns and busies himself with looking over the Tinker's tools of the trade. "Receipts? Anyone see any? Might be good to know if he owned any money about."
Joe felt the remnants of his good mood drain away as he took in the scene. He was no stranger to blood and death, but this was something else entirely. At least he could be sure there would be no conflict with the guild on this. Something this messy would draw entirely too much of the wrong sort of attention, and get the populace riled up. Not good for business. They'd want the culprit found just as much as the watch did.
He studied everyone examining the room and body, and felt he wouldn't contribute much more to the search here.
"I'm going to go check up on the roof. It's possible that whoever or whatever did this wasn't working alone, and up high would be the best place to keep watch. If that was the case, there might be something up there."
Joe steps outside and nods to Muncy before pointing up at the roof. He looks around for the best place to clamber up.
You search through the rest of Bill's hovel and don't find much of interest apart from a few impressive looking half-sharpened butcher's knives... which also show signs of use upon the corpse. Looking through the tinker's bedroom you find an old chest beneath a few blankets under the bed. Hefting it out into the open you see that it's lock and hinges are rusted shut.
Joe slips out past the Inspector to check over the roof, but though the climb is easy enough - he isn't able to find any sign of anything untoward up there. Sure an accumulation of assorted rat and pigeon droppings, few dead cockroaches and a couple of ornery live ones - but nothing worthy of reporting. As he drops back down the Inspector follows him back in to the others.
The Inspector draws your attention back away from the scene and the freshly discovered chest with a sigh and continued words “Sure this murder is brutal and gruesome, but I’ve served as an Officer of the Watch for more than 20 years... and this is far from the worst I've seen.” Inspector Muncy’s eyes take on a haunted cast, “but this footprint…a child capable of doing this; that’s something unusual even for the Blight. But even this wouldn’t be such a shock that I thought maybe outside assistance would be of benefit except for what I’m about to tell you."
Taking a gulp to center himself the Inspector continues “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a crime scene where a brutal murderer appeared to have been a small child. It’s actually the second time, and the first was twenty years ago when I was just a green constable. I was involved in a murder investigation then, and that time, too, it appeared that the culprit was likely a small child. The evidence seemed too ludicrous for the Watch to seriously consider that possibility, so the case was closed and given a plausible ‘official’ explanation before being quickly brushed under the rug. But for all these years I’ve wondered what could have happened in that other murder, and now to see this, I can’t help but be reminded of that earlier crime and the unsatisfactory conclusion that the Watch came to on it."
“So that’s why I’ve summoned you here. Two decades have passed since that earlier murder was hushed up, so I know the killer can’t possibly be the same one that ‘offed’ Old Bill Hughe, but the similarities are uncanny and I want a fresh take on this one before the department gets ahold of it and decides it too needs to be closed and given a ‘plausible’ explanation. That’s where you come in. I know that you’ve got some special talents and skills that maybe aren’t found in a typical member of the Watch, and you can operate outside official channels to try and get to the bottom of this."
"I’ve been placed in charge of this investigation, so I can give you 48 hours before the Watch starts digging in in earnest, so you’ll have an undisturbed head start before any official interference could be cooked up. I’ll pull strings to keep you out of any trouble with the Watch, though obviously don’t start wrecking the town or roughing up witnesses."
“Do what you have to do, within reasonable limits of course, to get this thing solved. I want to know who did this, the why, and the how. I’m not letting this one slip through my fingers like the other one did, and I can’t really trust anyone with it other than you. You’ll draw a Watch stipend while you do the work, and I can see to it that you get any mundane supplies that you may need, though it’ll have to go through official requisition channels, so probably the less you ask for the better."
“Well, that’s about it,” he says as he looks out at the sky only now growing pink with the arrival of first light. “I think it’s time for me to take a lunch break. You gentlefolk better get to it,” he says with a grim smile.
Inspector Muncy places the bowler firmly upon his nearly bald pate and steps out the front door before striding down the street whistling a chipper tune jarringly discordant with the gruesome crime scene he just left. It looks like the investigation is yours...
Fiterri follows the Inspector out, surprised by his abrupt departure while still digesting the history lesson. "Inspector." Drumming his fingers together, "The stipend is generous as always, my thanks. But I was hoping for details on the Hughe murder to know if there is a connection beyond the methods. Does the Watch keep such details, or can I ask you over your lunch? The less grizzly details of course, like who was Hughes and where did this happen? Any link we can make to the Tinker may help."
Tania fights a pang of sickness as the smell of blood brings a taste like iron to her tongue and the sights twists her gut like a vise.
This is too much, she thinks, and is about to turn back when she notices Gnitt watching her. She remembers him, but she does not know if he remembers her, her multiple short stays, and her pilfering. The last thing she wants is to feel a responsibility to a corpse. She has enough of that, but the very last thing she wants is to compromise her name. Without it, there is nothing left, not even Jared, and all those good people here can do that, if she shows weakness.
And so she stays. Behind, but she stays, muttering under her breath a few words Jared used to say to reassure her.
Unable to look at the corpse, she turns her attention to the room, and the rest of the house. The broken window she decides to start with, and examines its fragments, to find whether a child could really have gone through without cutting itself.
When the inspector shares his strangest of story, she feels caught in the stream of events. No way she could walk out now. She needed to know.
Watching Fiterri go after the inspector, she follows, for ahe knows what the old man wants to know, for she has the same question...
Muncy shakes his head "I'm sorry - I wasn't assigned to the earlier case so I don't have any other details to give. Best you look at the here and now." followed by a perfunctory nod that serves to close the conversation off.
Tania's inspection of the broken shards around the window don't show evidence of any blood being left behind - though the edges at the bottom do appear roughed off as though someone/thing has pushed their way through the window into the interior.
Joe watched the inspector hurry off, thinking that if they were going to be doing the inspector's job for him, maybe they should ask for an inspector's pay. Shrugging, he thought to himself that if the inspector didn't know anything, there must be someone still alive who'd worked on that case.
Aloud, he said "Well, since Muncy is just full of helpful information today, does anyone want to head over to the Queen's Own with me? It's a bar that's a favorite of the watch. There's bound to be someone there who worked on the previous case, or knows someone who did."
You search through the rest of Bill's hovel and don't find much of interest apart from a few impressive looking half-sharpened butcher's knives... which also show signs of use upon the corpse. Looking through the tinker's bedroom you find an old chest beneath a few blankets under the bed. Hefting it out into the open you see that it's lock and hinges are rusted shut.
Joseph gets the feeling that daybreak is unlikely to be the best moment to go seeking Watchmen with a mind to speak freely and openly at a bar...
Fitteri nods after the Inspector as he heads back to the flat with Tania, "Guess he has had a bit of a long night."
Back in the appartment Fiterri heads over to the chest. "Old chest. An old killing to match this one. You figure this been under his bed twenty years? Any of you particularly good with locks and potentially traps? I have the means but would bow to an expert."
Looking over the chest you see no sign of traps at all, and reckon you'd be able to either force the lock, or dismantle the hinges to get at the innards.
Lucetta listens attentively, nodding as the Inspector mentions the cold case from twenty years ago.
I was wondering why you'd gathered us all together...
she glances around at the shadowed faces present
...I'm sure we're all interested for our own reasons, and it's always handy to have an Inspector grateful to you. Good night Muncy.
She watches him head out the door then turns to Joe.
I think you're o the right track with finding out more about the previous killing. I'd also ask the question as to whether there have been more murders, but they've gone unnoticed because no one linked them together. We should find out as much as we can about murders with a similar... method, perhaps those killed in a bloody manner with their own work implements might be a good place to start
As Fiterri returns his gaze to the rusted chest, Lucetta holds up a slim finger.
But before we move to the pub, we should see what this is all about.
Reaching under the leather satchel resting on her hip, she deftly pulls free two rigid lengths of slim metal, before kneeling before the chest and beginning to examine it.
Seeing nothing obviously dangerous about the lock, she inserts the metal slivers and begins manipulating them. Frowning slightly as their seeming immovability, she shrugs and moves around the chest, this time using the picks to pry the hinges loose from the lid so it can be slid free.
The rusted lock doesn't yield too easily, but careful and persistent manipulation results in the chest spilling forth it's contents. Inside are a pile of hand-written receipts for tinkering jobs done by Old Bill 30 years ago, apparently stored here and forgotten. Given that there aren’t any receipts in the rest of the house, this appears to be a practice that Bill hasn’t continued in some time.
Examining the receipts reveals that for most of his work Bill did not use receipts, but some business required him to take customer’s property home with him while he repaired it, and the receipts were issued to the owner and copies were kept by Bill until the work was completed.
Spending some time filleting through them sorting by name and date lead you to discover that most were issued to people with unfamiliar names or businesses that closed down decades ago.
There is one particular receipt that piques interest though - issued to Eustus Grindlylow of Grindlylow’s Grinders for repairs to a gear mechanism. The repaired mechanism lies in the bottom of the chest, apparently never returned to its owner.
As the chest is opened Fiterri smiles, "Receipts. Didn't I say receipts. Something stopped him keeping track of customers a long time ago."
Once the full contents are searched, "Huh, seems Old Bill was always old, even decades ago. Unlike most of these receipts, Grindylow's is still open not far from here. Odd that Eustus never came calling for his 'Main Gear Tertiary Toogle Switch' or why Old Bill would hide it under his bed with a bunch of useless paper."
Gnitt watches and thinks as more and more evidence is overturned.
"So to summarize we have the following to go on. One, there was a similar case twenty years ago. I believe we need to go to this Queen's Own bar and find some old timer who might have some information on the first crime.
Then continuing in his monotone manner..."The second unresolved piece of evidence is the gear that was never returned. That would require a visit to this Grindylow's Gears to see what shakes out there".
"A third and here-to option is to talk to some neighbors and see if they heard or saw anything...maybe even some known street people. Should we split up for these duties, or go as a group. There is safety in numbers, but we could be a bit intimidating as a group".
Joe nods in agreement with Gnitt. "I'd say that about sums it up." He glances at Fiterri and waggles his fingers in his general direction. "Should you maybe check the gear to see if there's anything unusual about it? And I'd say maybe we each take a different neighbor or two to save time, and then head over to Grindlylow's, but maybe only a couple of us actually go inside. And the Queen's Own probably won't have anyone worthwhile 'til this evening, so hopefully something else will turn up between the neighbors and the gear."
Lucetta stares at the gear
Of all the things I was expecting, that wasn't on the list...
she glances up at Fiterri
Any chance you can do your thing with the gear?
She taps one finger on her lips
As you note gentleman and lady, this is an odd one. Why stop keeping receipts? Or did he? Could he have just archived these under the bed and had a new chest of receipts? Is there anything missing from the crime scene?
She begins looking for a void, somewhere where blood would have spattered but that is mysteriously clean of it because someone took something away.
Tania goes back inside, somewhat is a darker mood, but the smell of death brings her back with a snap. Avoiding the corpse, she sees Fiterri fidgeting the receipt and the switch. Curious, she reads the receipt and asks: "May I see that 'Main Gear Tertiary Toogle Switch?'"
She turns the instrument around in her hands, trying to figure the way it attaches, the way it operates, and whether it is repaired completely or partially.
Finally, she hums a single note at the object and listens to the resulting echo, discerning for the presence of eldritch energies.
There is no sign of blood on the gear, nor is there any taint of the arcane about it. It looks and feels like an ordinary gear, with a liberal coating of long congealed grease on it's exterior. It looks as though Bill's job at repairing involved restoring the teeth on the gear's outer rim. Tania's able to discern that it's likely from the interior of a grinding machine (unsurprisingly given the name of the company involved) and most likely one that worked on stone.
Lucetta is unable to find anything else within the house that suggests any items having been taken from the scene.
"Good question Maybe the geezer wasn't himself in more ways than one. We'll have to ask around to some of these old clients on the receipts, and see if he continued to do work for them".
"Any loose floorboards to hide under? What am I saying, probably every board is loose in this place." Picking up the gear, "Although a stop to the receipts could be if he is related to the first murder somehow, he didn't want to be found anymore...did a poor job of leaving town though, if that were the case."
Fiterri sits at the table and clears his mind. He holds the gear avoiding the greased teeth. "I don't expect too much, especially over such a time, and for such a utilitarian item. But I might just pick up Grindylow's or Old Bill's mood associated with the item.
Fiterri flicks the switch on his glasses as he bends his head over the item and concentrates, leaving behind the murder scene and investigators. He shoots through a long dark expanse with no reference that lulls his senses until they explode again in light and activity. As his inner eye adjusts, there is dim light, dust, and gravel.
too far
He retraces his steps looking for anything after the life as a cog.
The cog provides nothing, clearly any imprint having ebbed and faded during it's long chest-bound interment.
Fiterri places the cog back on the table and shakes his head, "There is crushing and there is darkness. I cannot find a day in all those years where anyone attached themselves to this cog. That or that the contact was so brief, it has not lingered."
Packing up his tools while standing among the gore, "After questioning the locals, I could go for a scotch egg. And a splash of something hot."
Fiterri I will join you in canvassing the neighbours before we head to the pub
Lucetta proceeds to loom on Fiterri's arm and provide a distraction to those he questions.
And Gnitt heads in the opposite direction. "Let's meet back in the Queens Own around mid day to compare our notes, and perhaps inquire if the owners of the establishment might either know something, or recommend who we might speak with. Then we can go to the gear place and try to find something there this afternoon. After that we'll come back to the tavern for hopefully more information".
"Let's split up into two groups for questioning. I'll take a group and head North, and another group can head south".
Diplomacy (To gather information. +2 if its a criminal contact, -2 if law abiding citizen, straight if somewhere in between).
As you look to leave the crime scene, a squad of constables arrives. These officers of the Watch eye you with a suspicious mien, but clearly have been read in to your role and give you no pause nor questioning. Once you're clear they move in to secure the crime scene, not seeming to take much issue at the state of it beyond confirming that the body's still on the floor.
Unfortunately, despite your efforts, a search of the neighborhood reveals that Muncy’s report is essentially correct. Nobody lives nearby that might have heard or seen anything, those you do meet don't have very much worth saying at all. Old Bill kept to himself, wasn't working anymore and eked a living day to day by what soup kitchens that function within Castorhage. You take the measure of those you speak to and get the sense that they're telling you what they know without varnish or obfuscation.
Even checking in with the nearest Watch Station finds that the street sweepers who found the body were questioned and released after confirming that they did not know any additional information beyond what your own eyes could already see.
When the motley rejoins but does not rejoice, Tania offers: "Well, so far, going over Muncy's work has proven he knows his craft and did not miss a thing. That is, if he missed something, we missed it too. Now, come to think on it, we did not check the tinker's house and body for signs of magic, did we. I checked the gear and found nothing, but the rest? Anyone checked that?"
There were no signs of the taint of magic within Ol' Bill's hovel, neither in his house nor upon his body.
Joe inhaled deeply from his pipe, and shrugged resignedly at the lack of useful information. "Well, if it was going to be that easy, Muncy wouldn't have called us in. Maybe we should go find out about the gear first, since that's right around the corner. Who wants to take point when we get there? Gnitt and Tania perhaps?"
Ignoring the rest of the watch when it arrives, Lucetta nods at Joe's suggestion.
Likely we'll be better hanging back and using our peepers to watch the people and surroundings when we go asking about a twenty year old repair request. I'm reckoning there'll be an old salt there who'll know something about it, we just have to keep a watchful eye to spot him...
She re-secures her satchel and indicates she's ready to head to Grindlylow’s Grinders.
Setting off you turn your compass the direction of the Great Lyme River, navigating as much by scent as you are by eyes or road. The rumble of a millstone and the screeching of metal grinding metal fill the air as you draw near to your destination. A much-repaired retaining wall surrounds a courtyard before a two-storey building whose own walls show many patches of mismatched brick. The wooden roof of the long main building sags in the middle, and just below its eaves faded, flaking lettering has been painted directly onto the brick, identifying the establishment as “Grindlylow’s Grinders.”
Below this a patch of brick wall has been painted over and additional lettering added more recently, “Horatius Grindlylow, Prop.” A wrought-iron gate stands open allowing entry to the hardpacked dirt of the courtyard before the building’s barnlike doors. Within its dust-clouded interior can be seen large mechanisms driven by long canvas belts running over pulleys and powered by a large waterwheel in the back. Numerous small outbuildings cluster along the edges of the courtyard.
As you enter the courtyard a dusty, middle-aged man in a worker's smock walks out from the bowels of the dimly lit main building. Squinting at you his eyes are clearly taking their time adjusting to the light as he queries "Eh? Whatcher after Sirs and Ladies? Got some goods need grindin'?"
Fiterri looks at the fresh paint and then at the man. "Horatius Grindylow, I take it?" He removes his hat and gives a slight bow. "Fiterri FInch at your service. He replaces his hat, "My compatriots and I, we were hoping to find your father, Eustus, in good health. We have a small matter from twenty years ago. Of course, you may have been here as well at the time. It involves repair work done by a William Hughe, a tinker. You may have known him as Old Bill?"
Lucetta looks around the place for anything unusual, letting Fitch do the talking so she can concentrate on analysing.
With Gryndilow as their only lead, Tania decides, as they reach the plant, to take advantage of a powerful incantation Jared had taught her.
As they walk to the factory, Tania tries to recall whether she'd heard something about the man Eustus. As they get there, she realizes the son his not the type she's used to dealing with and feels relief when Fiterri takes the lead. Instead, she watches the son to get a sense of his reaction to the mention of the tinker.