The group, briefly united in their pursuit of Mahaas, now have differing paths... but they agree to meet once more at the Grime Street Morgue - a journey that will take them back across the great river. The Stirge, already disappearing into the shadows of the chimneys and stacks, heads back to the attic space that Mahaas called home... whilst, guiding the subdued murderer through the jumble of streets that criss-cross the island of Festival, Eliseera, Darc and Tella take Mahaas to the Festival Watch...
Making his way, cautiously picking his route now that he is no longer chasing a criminal, back to Mahaas' lodgings, the Stirge realises how well planned his quarries' route was... clearly Mahaas had been planning for the day when he needed to make a quick escape. Pushing his way back through the hatch that Mahaas had originally fled through, the Stirge is back in the 'living area' - where the animals in their jars and cages still howl and scrabble to escape and where the corpses of Mahaas' accomplices still lie... but of Ruby, who hadn't followed the others out into the rooftop chase, there is no sign.
It takes nearly an hour, for the streets are still occasionally crowded despite the late hour and guiding Mahaas proves to be challenging, for the group to arrive at the Watch station - a squat and rather dirty stone tower rising from the quayside near the ferry crossing. It has become home to seagulls and crows, hundreds of birds roost upon its roof, and its sides are streaked with years of their droppings.
...making their way inside, the group arrive at an abandoned desk - and so, ringing the bell upon the counter and waiting for well over five minutes, Mahaas' captors finally summon a yawning - and somewhat grumpy looking - watch officer. A halfling with pinched features and a badly crumpled uniform, the officer (his badge states that he is 'acting captain') takes a long look at the group, spits a lump of heavily chewed liquorice into a bowl on the counter and, with a comically high-pitched voice, asks, "What's yer business here? Normal hours for any complaints yer got...'less 'n yer here with assistance to the Watch"
"Damnation, where did that Ruby go?" wonders the Stirge. Ruby was always an information broker; perhaps she had gotten the information she wanted for her own needs.
Regardless, the Stirge seems intent on searching the fallen wererats and Mahaas's room for information, clues, and items. He searches for magical auras as he conducts his search.
No longer harassed by the previous occupants of the room, and with little risk of being interrupted, the Stirge searches Mahaas' living quarters - tossed about the room are a sack of 250 silver pieces (grime covered as if only recently retrieved from the ground), a pair of copper candlesticks depicting swans, and a small tapestry with a rather elaborate depiction of the Ice Fayre of Castorhage. An alchemy lab and a set of thieves’ tools (both of which have seen extensive use) are on the table whilst, sitting by the stove is a curious large object: a fossil that looks like a tail covered in barbs, with holes for eyes, or maybe mouths, and ending in a sphincter with teeth. The object has clearly only recently been dug up as it still has mud on it.
Elsie has little patience for dealing with this officious prick, but puts on a smile anyway. "Yes, sorry to disturb you but this miscreant is charged with the foul murder of one of our fair citizens..." She proceeds to describe the circumstances of the murder of Chantelle while omitting the presence of the liquid fire. "We wish him held until we have completed our investigation."
The Stirge starts brushing off the grime that appears on the coins that apparently came out of the ground. Where could they have come from? Were the coins being dug up from gravesites? Or was there some other underground project ongoing? He considers the possibilities.
The Stirge is a little disappointed that there weren't more of these balls of fire to be found, or anything that might incriminate Mahaas or the Organ Grinder. He checks out the Alchemy Lab to see if there was anything that might suggest he was working on the fire somehow. He does the same with the oven.
Last but not least, he dares to investigate the strange fossil, although he doubted he could really understand what it was. Once again, he can't help but wonder if there was some dig site that Mahaas had a connection to, where he had been gathering knick knacks like these.
Seeing Eliseera is taking the lead, Tella decides to wait on the halfling's reply before she steps in.
Darc, stands subtly putting his foot on Mahaas' foot, reminding him to stand straight and know that his captors are close and threatening. He listens the Elise deal with the watch, just as she has done a hundred times before.
The halfling, his chin and teeth stained indigo, looks from Eliseera to Mahaas... and then, as Eliseera's voice snaps him back, towards the woman again. His face wrinkles a little, "So... yer sayin' Mahaas here murdered someone? Strange that the Watch knew nothing of it... and wha's this investigation you talkin' 'bout? Are you on some commission fer the Watch? 'Cos", the ghastly officer's eyes narrow, "I never heard about that".
The wererats, lying where they were slain, are carrying nothing that could be said to be of particular interest... and so, considering what he has found, the Stirge takes a moment. The coins, not of any great age, are almost certainly from a hidden stash rather than any ancient dig... and the alchemy lab shows signs of acid burns rather than flame...
...the fossil is intriguing though - and puts the Stirge in mind of the various expeditions and subsequent exhibition of the Castorhage Ancients — creatures of old also referred to as Leviathans. These huge fossilized horrors are found occasionally beneath the silt and stone of the city, and are sometimes the subject of furious and unsubstantiated rumours.
There is little else of interest here... although there are a number of rooms that weren't explored when the group first came through here.
Elsie smiles in reply to the officer's inquiry. "Actually, we are agents in the employ of the Guild of Crematoria Masters, who brought this to our attention." She reaches into her pouch for the embossed letter from the Guild, before abruptly realizing the Stirge is carrying the letter. "One of our companions can vouch for us. He has left to investigate this miscreant's home for further clues. He should rejoin us shortly."
"And if you don't believe her, then perhaps you'll believe me. My name is Tella Street. I'm often hired to help the watch with their investigations. Now, if you don't want to take him into the watch's custody on our word alone, we can get your captain and a scribe, have everyone here given their sworn statements that he confessed to the crime and then a transcription of every last detail of our investigation," she says in a crisp, professional tone, her black eyes boring into his.
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The Stirge remembers to cast a spell on his sword once more.
If it's portable, the Stirge will tuck away the strange fossil as an idle curiosity. Perhaps he would add it to Varian's home.
He does take a long look at the stove once more. He didn't understand why the Child of Spines was in there, and looks for clues.
Otherwise, he moves to one of the doors in the tenement by where they entered--one that he thinks didn't have noises. After checking for danger, he opens the door.
Darc whispers into Elise's ear, "Well, if the watch don't want him the Guild will, they probably have their own courts and punishments they can impose on those whose illegal business crosses theirs." Darc eyes the watch suspiciously, as they don't know if Mahaas has any previous relationship with them.
The officer, so obviously drunk on his own importance, considers Eliseera and Tella for a moment... and then looks toward Mahaas. Finally, having gone through some kind of thought process, he relents, "Truth be told, the Festival Watch have been looking for this fellow for a coupla' days... there's bin a number of complaints, from people that matter, that 'im and some other fella bin running some kind of menaces scheme".
...it is clear, from the way that the man enunciates his words, that 'people who matter' does not encompass the vast majority of Festival's populace...
"He can spend the night in a cell... an' once I've had my sleep, we can work out what it is that Mister Mahaas 'as bin doin'. I ain't too bothered about no statements now but, come back tomorrow an' we'll make sure there's someone 'ere who you can talk ter".
- It doesn't seem that Mahaas and the Officer are in cahoots with each other...
Cautious now that he is on his own, the Stirge starts to explore the warren of rooms and corridors that comprise Mahaas' lair... hopefully, somewhere within the tumbledown walls of this attic there will be more clues to tell of the origin of the wildfire that took Mahaas' victim's life. And, very quickly, his caution proves to be well-placed - halfway along the corridor that he finds, and well hidden beneath a layer of dust, the Stirge sees the faintest of outlines in the floor - a pressure plate.
Moving past the trap, the Stirge moves westwards and into what must surely be Mahaas' bedroom - a mangy horsehair bed with goose-down pillows dominates this room and a large tarpaulin stretches across several small leaks in the roof to prevent rain dripping onto the bed.
Elsie correctly guages the man's lack of interest in following proper procedure, but realizes there is little she can do to force the issue. "Very well," She nods in agreement. "We shall return in the morning to continue our investigation."
"Hmmm . . . a bedroom. Somehow I don't see Mahaas as the type to keep a journal." The Stirge searches the bedroom nevertheless, looking for any further clues.
Putting his hand on Elise's shoulder Darc winks at his friend, "Knew you'd sort it." Turning back to the officer, Darc reminds the watch, "And don't go loosing him." before following the others from the watch, with just one more glace back as he exits the door.
With a large sigh, he gulps in the air, stale and typically heavy Castohage air. "What a nice night to go to the Morgue!" he quips.
"By the way, before I leave, may I have you're name," Tella asks. "That way, I know who to start questioning if Mahaas is somehow, ah, misplaced."
Tella smiles at the halfling, but her eyes are as cold and cruel as the Sister Lyme in winter.
The Watch Officer can hardly get rid of the group quick enough, grabbing Mahaas roughly by the arm, he escorts him away... and when Tella asks for a name, he scowls, Acting Captain Pleasant Fumitory... remember the name, soon enough I'll be in charge here... and then, Festival gets cleaned up".
...and with that, the entirely unpleasant experience of dealing with the Watch is over, and the group are on their way back to the Ferry.
Sadly, and probably unsurprisingly, Mahaas has left no written records here... indeed, apart from the general squalor, there is nothing to consider here...
The Stirge tries his luck with one last room, assuming he doesn't hear anything inside.
"Well, Officer Fumitory, Please try not to lose Mahaas in the meantime."
"Would you care to explain why you are testing my patience? Perhaps you enjoy wasting my time? I am not in the mood for a slip with delusions of grandeur to attempt making a fool of me! I'll have your name, sir. Whether you give it to me or I pull it from the books for this precinct's watch schedule when I report this incident is entirely up to you."
Tella glares at him, her eyes glowing in that strange way they tended to do when she cast her spells. The edges of her irises and pupils glowing white, though not quite enough that it could be seen outside the shadows covering her face as she looked down on the halfling.
All the way back to the ferry, Tella fumes. She mutters under her breath the entire time, and more than one inebriated man who'd tried to get too close found themselves getting slapped upside the head by one of Tella's spells. When they take their seats in the ferry, the investigator sits with huff and sullenly broods.
This next room proves to be another tumbledown chamber cluttered with oddments Mahaas has collected. A quick search of the room uncovers a trio of gold earrings set with tiny jet stones that have fallen down the back of a horsehair seat. A small tapestry that depicts knights on chargers is draped over the seat whilst a stuffed teddy bear lies on the floor nearby. Noticing that the bear is quite mis-shapen, the Stirge carefully investigates the mouldering thing... and finds a small silvered dagger hidden in its chest cavity.
Listening outside of the one door that he has yet to investigate fully, the Stirge hears scratching... and what sounds like the beating of wings...
Strangely, it seems that the Officer of the Watch is indeed being truthful about his name... and, on the evidence of their encounter, it seems that what you name your offspring has little to no bearing on their personality!!!
The Stirge leaves the last room alone, believing it might be dangerous. Disappointed that he cannot find more clues, he takes the valuables, sets the animals free, and heads to find a way to the morgue.
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Mahaas' strange menagerie... mainly wretched looking dogs, cats, rats and birds... screech, flap and bark their way into the night - some of them may survive, some will surely perish in the mouth of one of Castorhage's many night-time predators but starvation would surely have come to anything that had remained in that vile place... and so the Stirge, vaguely unsatisfied at not having found anything of particular note, makes his way from the carnival isle of Festival - once more favouring a private charter boat over the crowded ferry.
Squatting near the river, the Grime Street morgue rests at the edge of the Hollow and Broken Hills district of the city, no more than 100 yards from where the Chain Ferry disgorged its tired passengers, and consists of a moderately sized warehouse on stilts over the river with a small office adjoining. Due to the tardy running of the ferry, it transpires that the Stirge arrives at the building momentarily before the rest of the group...
A tired looking man looks up from his pile of paperwork as the door creaks open - a name plate at his desk declares that this man is 'Underclerk Ernest R. Wigmore', "Office hours are Nine bells through 'til Six... come back later".
The Stirge spots the others as they approach the morgue and rejoins them once more. As it seems the person in front of them might present a barrier, the Stirge once more considers whether there was a back entrance or other way to sneak in -- hopefully one not guarded by dogs.
"Pardon us Mr. Wigmore," Tella says politely to the man, having had time to get over her experience with Acting Captain Fumitory, "We have been asked to look into the recent spate of burnings and were told that many of the victims were brought here. I know that you must be tired and overworked, but if you'd be willing to answer some questions for us, I'd be more than happy to buy you a nice hot meal and some coffee."
Darc smiles at Tella's clever way to induce the the man to let them continue their investigations here.
There seems to be but one entrance into the morgue from land, the door through which the investigators first entered, however... there does appear to be a second door, a little larger, that faces directly out into the river - it is, without clambering across the roof or navigating the ledges of the building as it extends out over Lyme, only accessible from the river.
Mr Wigmore, so politely addressed by Tella, drops any kind of official demeanour and smiles, "Coffee? Why that would be great... there's a place just along from the Ferry that roasts the most bitter of beans - 'course, it won't be open again until dawn so you'll just have to promise".
And then, rubbing his back as he stands from his exceptionally uncomfortable looking chair, "So, you're investigating the burnings? It's a bad business I tell you... a bad business. Ah well, follow me..." Leading the group into the larger section of the building, where tiled walls give a clinical appearance to the large chamber... and the twelve wooden tables, five of which are occupied with corpses, tell of the purpose of the room. Although each of the bodies is partially covered by a white sheet, even the untrained eye could tell that these people burned to death...
"We have a Rosie Weft - she's the first of the victims as far as we can tell, then an Edmund Hyde and a Eugene Wolkman - all identified by their belongings and confirmed by magicks... then the last two, we only got them back from Festival a few hours back, they're Non Nominus"
"Go ahead", Mr Wigmore points towards the bodies laid out upon the tables, "They won't mind no more..."
Elsie nods to the gentleman and glides over to the table where the most recent corpse lays in repose. Non Nominus...we may never know who these unfortunate souls are...Justice will be served here! The fact these corpses were found recently shows Mahaas was not the only one using the liquid fire... She slowly pulls the cover off the body, steeling herself for the gruesome site, before slowly examining the corpse looking for confirmation the liquid fire was indeed the cause of death.
"Of course, I'll buy you a cup once dawn comes. I just hope you'll forgive me if I add some cream and sugar to mine. Black coffee's just a little too strong for me," Tella replies.
Once she sees the victims, she turns to Mr. Wigmore.
"We've already learned that another victim was being stalked by her murderer. Do you have the addresses for the next of kin of Ms. Weft, Mr. Hyde, and Mr. Wolkman so that we might be able to ask them about anything like that that may have been going on? Also, do you happen to know under what circumstances the deceased were found?"
Once she'd had her curiosity satisfied for the moment, she begins examining the bodies. After a brief look at the bodies, her eyes begin to glow as she tries to determine what, if any, psychic impressions may have been left.
Darc follows the girls over to the bodies, his lips curl in disgust as the bodies are uncovered, their flesh charred and the lingering smell of flesh, burned and cooked. It is not these things that disgust the man, but the coward that did these things, murdering these innocents. "These last two, the ones you don't have names for, do your papers say where they died? and when? Surely some one must have seen them die, other than the killer. Did they have any jewelry on before they arrived? any possessions at all? Let us try and find out who they are, and why they were picked out for this fate. Then we can talk to their families, if they have any." He goes over to the two bodies, looking for any marks or gold in the teeth, burned tattoos, jewelry anything. "We will get those responsible, who will pay for what they have done." He adds, his voice full of grit and determination.
Ernest pulls a ledger from a shelf and grimaces, "These folks weren't the kind of people who we can go talking to the families of... they're homeless and loners... the kind of person who no-one was ever going to miss. I'm sorry, but there's really not much chance of finding out much of what happened before they turned up dead".
Standing next to the table with the youngest body, "The first of the bodies to be discovered, quite dead and with the fire long since run its course, Rose Weft was found down Thru'penny lane at about three in the morning... whatever happened to her, no one saw her passing. At first, the Watch took it to be a hit gone wrong... and were all ready to sweep it under the table... only then the other bodies started turning up".
Moving to the second table, "Young Rose wasn't really known to the watch, guess she was just one of those girls who come downriver looking for their fortune and end up vagrant... but Edmund here, he'd been out on Festival for a decade or so by all accounts. The way I heard the Watch talking, Edmund Hyde was a relatively well-respected tailor until his wife up'd and left with a sailor... then he took to the bottle and ended up on the streets. They found him not far from the Lacedon tavern... just as burnt as young Rose there".
At the third table, the clerk consults his notes once more, "Eugene was a loner who slept on the docks where he worked... he wasn't causing any trouble there so folks just left him be. Then last week, three locals saw him running through the streets, his body a blazing pyre of flame... strangest thing, their witness statements claim that the fire was extinguished by a sudden globe of water surrounding Eugene. It wasn't enough to save him but the locals reckon it was divine intervention... they reckon Cayden himself smiled on their night of drinking and saved them", Ernest closes the ledger, "Rubbish of course... you ask me, they're making that part of the story up... looking for attention".
Standing between the tables where the unidentified bodies lie, Ernest frowns, "These two, we only got them over from the island yesterday evening... 'course, no-one's reported anyone missing so it may be a while until we know who they were".
Darc and Eliseera's examination of the bodies reveal that all of the corpses retain their clothes, charred to nothing in places, with bits of metal from rings or necklaces actually melted into the scorched flesh. Identification, by normal means, of these unfortunates would be nigh on impossible. There are other things to note though... patterns in the injuries...
Each of the corpses, whilst charred across their entire bodies, have areas on their torsos where the burning is far more severe... and, to all intents and purposes, these areas look like claw marks. Further, around these marks, there are signs of an almost physical attack...
...and finally Eliseera notices that the named victims, despite having been found upon dry land do all indeed show signs of having been immersed, post mortem, in water.
Elsie waves the others over to the corpses, pointing at the torso area and the claw marks thereon. "Something is physically assaulting these poor folks...either before they are set aflame or whilst aflame. Also," She looks up in horrified realization, "These corpses were submerged in water...I theorize this flame continues to burn until the victim is dead and completely submerged in water. No mere dousing will suffice!"
"That is one of the most terrifying things I've heard," Tella says. "A fire that can't be put out in a city, especially this city, is a disaster waiting to happen."
"Is someone trying to submerge all these victims in water? And if so, why?"
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"Why do this?, unless someone is perfecting their skill in killing this way. The corpses do not rise as warriors of the dead, so their souls are passing. Killing unfortunates, just means you can satisfy your desire for death, without the consequences, unlike killing toffs. It just starts to create fear, we must stop it and save more from this terrible death, before fear or flames rule Castohage." Darc says, his face a mask of stoic determination.
"Wait, the burns look like claw marks, don't they? Could it be a creature of flame attacking them," Tella asks the others as she ponders the question herself.
Elsie nods thoughtfully, "Since all of these corpses share the same wound marks, it is a reasonable assumption Tella. But there are other questions this raises. If there is a flaming beast on the loose then where does it lair? Could it be from beyond the Ether?" "And how does this liquid fire fit into the equation? Is it the secretion of this creature, or something else?" She ponders. "We need to track down the source Mahaas gathered the liquid fire. We will find our answers there."
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Tella sighs and rubs her temples.
"Probably, and the hour isn't helping. Let's figure out what to do then treat the good sir who helped us to some coffee." Turning to the man in question, she asks, "may we have your name. I'm afraid that I have been rather poor-mannered and have neglected introductions."
The hour is indeed late, the chain ferry carrying far more people from the isle of Festival than it is returning them to that sorry place, and Castorhage - as much as it ever does - prepares to slumber through the darkest hours of its night... it is only now, as the group have stopped running, chasing, negotiating, investigating - living by their wits and by their steel - that they start to realise that fatigue is starting to set in...
The clerk of the Morgue turns to Tella, "The name's Ernest Wigmore ma'am and you don't need to mind about your manners down here... ain't like these folks have got use for pleases, thankyou's and beggin' your pardons".
"Ah, but you're here, and it never does to be rude. I am Tella Street, and I thank you for your help," she replies.
Tella spends the rest of the time planning with the others on where to meet after some rest, and offers her flat to anyone who wanted a more comfortable place to stay.
After dawn comes, Tella treats Mr. Wigmore to a cup of coffee and buys one for herself to keep herself awake long enough to get back to her flat. She barely manages to change into a sleeping gown before collapsing on the bed and falling asleep.
Elsie nods gratefully at the offer to crash at Tella's flat. "You are very thoughtful to open your door to us." She gives the other woman a tired smile. "However I should return back to my home and get some rest. I will need to get these bites taken care of at some point, which I can do before we meet back at M'hajeet's."
The Stirge acts incredulous. "Sleep? The night is still young. You all get your beauty sleep, check in on your prisoner, report to your boss, or what have you. As for me, I'm going to put a stop to these murders."
He spins and abruptly walks away.