Rosabelle's face brightens when Jase approaches her, only for her smile to invert itself when Joie roughly pulls him away from her. "...well, that's unfortunate."
She then turns back to Faithe. "Madame, I don't suppose--" She cuts herself off in the middle of her sentence when she sees her, eyes widening as she looks her up and down. "--my word, you are remarkably tall!"
"And unconcerned about the cold!" Her companion chimes in from behind her.
"Anyway, we have some questions regarding the progress of the Smokeside Scribe Slasher case. Do you have a minute, madame?"
------------------
Shieldmarshal Greystone is lingering inside the reception hall, pacing restlessly in circles on the rug. The dark-skinned man breathes a sigh of relief when the investigation team arrives. "Thank Abadar. Caeric's been silent while you were out, and those damn gnomes have been camping on the precinct's doorstep for at least two hours now. Think you're up for conducting an interrogation?"
"Unfortunately, goodwomen, we don't have a minute right now. We gotta talk with the Shieldmarshal immediately," Daerokh says as he bustles the others past the reporters. He catches up with Joie and Jase despite his shorter legs, and gives Jase a sock in the arm as they move.
"Did you REALLY have to make that joke? The reporters might take that literally! And I don't think Joie here's very handsy! You could give her a bad reputation..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He's gasping for air by the time they meet Greystone.
"Sorry, sorry...HOO you humans walk fast! Yeah, I can help, if only by standing off to the side looking menacingly. Maybe fiddle with my pelletbow, but I doubt that will be very convincing."
Joie doesn't dignify Jase with a response, but the way she's forcing air through her nostrils is very reminiscent of a bull about to charge, and rather than "releasing" Jase, she practically throws him down the hallway when they're out of sight (though not so hard that he can't stumble out of falling).
Taking a moment to very visibly calm herself, she turns to Daerokh, then reaches down into her boot and pulls out a dagger; plain and uniform, more likely to be from a factory forge than a self-employed smith. "Fiddle with this," she recommends, handing it to him.
Daerokh accepts the knife with a confused and concerned look on his face.
"That's not quite what I meant. I mean I look like too much of a nice guy to look scary."
He hands it back to her.
The young man can't help but laugh even harder as Daerokh slugged him in the shoulder before Joie unceremoniously tossed him forward. Rather than stagger along until he caught his balance, he rolled forward and came up to his feet rather gracefully, though his head started pounding as a result. Intent on not giving the woman the satisfaction of knowing his discomfort, he continued to grin as he looked at the dwarf. "The lady should think about her reputation the next time before she decides to lay her hands on me. I don't work for her, and being a PFC, I doubt anyone else does, either." He ignored the chatter between Daerokh and Joie after that, approaching Greystone.
His head was pounding, he was tired, he needed a drink, and he was a bit frustrated at the evolving convoluted case they had encountered. Jase was probably the most ready he had ever been to 'conduct' an interrogation. "You have but to point the way and then take a breather, Shieldmarshal. We'll do our best to wrest the rest out of your guest." The young man snickered a moment at his rhyming, then grew serious once more, thinking Greystone likely wasn't amused.
The half-orc waited in the precinct, he was unsure what was happening outside but as soon as Jase and Joie barreled into the room, he was able to put the story together. "Ey ey! Both of yous easy befores I box you both. We needs to work on dis 'ere case together so deal wit' it somehow." The Tailor was riled up and it showed. Despite having some time to calm down from the events of the Academy, the day had been long, and full of changes to his life. "I can go if you ain't got the stomach for it Daerokh, no sweat, just need some muscle in da room so I be more menacing-like."
Hearing Jase speak up, Tuco curiously thinks about how that conversation would go, "If you just be in that room, I's sure as rain knows he will talk, look at hows you shake up Joie just by beein' you." It was a half-joke and half-warning. He didn't want to hurt the man's pride and surely didn't want to justify his insult to Joie. Hoping to channel that anger he asks for the directions and starts off, "If we gonna rough 'im up a bit, the word to stop is 'cabbage'. Got it? He is not dyin' wit' me in the room."
Jase's head hurt, and it severely irritated him that Tuco seemed to think he had done something wrong. HE hadn't been the one bodily throwing someone else around. Still, it seemed the majority had decided that the young man was at least partly to blame. Sullen, he glanced over at the Nexian woman. "Alright, sorry...I went a bit too far." He opened his mouth to speak more, but all that filled his mind were justifications for what he had done, which would dilute the apology. So he shut his mouth and stiffly turned away and back to the main group.
Narrowing his eyes as he thought about exactly what might happen, he nodded, "Cabbage, got it. Let's do this." Caeric knew more about what was going on, and could possibly prevent more deaths. And the quicker the fake Enoch talked, the sooner the alcohol could flow. Yay. Jase walked determinedly towards the room with the others, at that point ready to contribute to the questioning.
Greystone gives Jase a tired look before turning and leading the team to the end of the lobby's eastern hall, taking them through a door and down a couple of hallways before coming to a halt in front of a tall, grey metal door. The lighting surrounding the door is lit by pale, heatless lanterns that seem designed to wash out any colours brought near them.
A second door is right next to the metal one.
"Which one of you wants to go first?"
Daerokh says nothing but walks in first, taking a spot by the corner.
"Hi," he says to the prisoner doubtlessly sitting in the room.
Tuco sees Daerokh walk in and shrugs, "Les go then."
Entering the door is an event for the half-orc as he starts breathing, speaking to himself and clearly psyching himself up. He gets an idea and grins before breaking the threshold of the door.
He grunts at Daerokh, "Yous 'gain? I dun need no babysitter 'ere, jus' go outside and leave me wit' 'dis 'ere imposta." The clever Tailor thinks on his feet trying his best to make himself seem grander than he is. "You. Who put you up to it, give me what I's need an' mebbee yous can keep you profession as a human imposta." He cracks his knuckles and starts moving up like a predator to him. "Been a long day and I's ain't got no drink in me yet, so I am very impatient."
Dropping his medical bag on a nearby table, it lets out a clang as some metal pieces and blades just happen to poke out.
Joie slips in, standing right up against the doorway, her dang bong in hand. As a muscular, six-foot-plus woman in a military uniform gripping a blunt instrument, she hopes that her presence lends itself to Tuco's intimidation tactic.
The interior of the interrogation room is little more than bare grey stone walls, a desk and a couple of chairs. A glass mirror is set into one wall.
The impostor, Caeric, gives Daerokh a bored look as he enters, and is about to say something when Tuco follows behind him.
"You. Who put you up to it, give me what I's need an' mebbee yous can keep you profession as a human imposta."
"I didn't do anything." Caeric replies, flinching slightly away from the man as he drops his medical bag on the table.
"And I'm not saying otherwise. I know how the marshals work." He adds as Joie enters, his eyes darting to her uniform before leaning back.
"Why am I not surprised you brought a Nexian in here with you?"
"Funny that. Let me check yous eyes, or better yet you brain because I ain't look like no damn marshal." He rummages around the bag, "In fact, it might be you lucky day, I think I forgot the drill somewhere."
He lets out a dismayed sigh, "I can make do." It seems the Tailor looks like he's having fun with this, not for some perverse reason but because the irony of him playing a part to scare a man who played a part was not lost on him; he was thankful his laughs came out and echoed somewhat.
They seemed scarier that way.
Daerokh grimaces at Tuco's act, but says nothing taking the hint and leaving the room.
Jase entered after Tuco and Joie, making sure to leave plenty of room for the soldier before slipping inside and observing.
The ghost of a smirk appeared as he watched the man, Caeric, and judged his body language. The man was clearly nervous about the prospects of what the Tailor might do with his bag of goodies.
He glanced at Joie and then back to the prisoner, smiling in a friendly sort of way. "Nex has a vested interest in keeping things safe here in Alkenstar, and getting to the bottom of what's going on these days with the murders. Things are looking bad for you here, Caeric, but Joie here plays by the book."
The young man glanced over at Tuco, the smile remaining in place, and shrugged, "Tuco here, however, doesn't much like books. How cooperative you are will directly relate to which one asks the questions, I'm thinking. So, take your pick, my friend, and please note while you do that the Shieldmarshal has gone home and it's purely at our discretion as to what happens next."
Faithe was about to turn when the reporter spoke to her in surprise about her height. She looked down at the gnomes and considered a response for a moment, oblivious to what the others were doing, as she'd never seen a gnome before. She arched one eyebrow and asked in her echoing voice, "Is it I that am so tall or is it you that is so short?" There was no apparent insult in her tone as Faithe spoke, more genuine curiosity as she studied the two before her. She looked at the other gnome and said, "The cold never bothers me anyway so no, I'm not."
When the Rosabelle indicated she wanted to ask some questions about the case Faithe considered carefully before responding. As she often did when she needed a moment Faithe stepped back into the shadows which once more seemed to wrap around her and welcome her home. She regarded the two carefully and then said from the darkness, "I will hear your questions, but I don't promise to answer, provided you agree to pass any leads in the case you come across to me. I want to remain unnamed and I won't pass on anything that might get us harmed while investigating."
”I’d like to make sure that you’re fully aware of your situation,” says Joie, looking down at the man. ”You have been caught in several crimes. Impersonating Enoch on its own will carry a light sentence... or a fine, perhaps. Imprisoning the real Enoch in a box with no food or water will likely be considered a kidnapping at best and an attempted murder more likely.” She paces, shaking her head. ”We know you were attempting to cover up details of certain incidents. The question is why—and the simplest answer is that you were the cause of these incidents.”
She pauses, then turns toward him. ”At your current trajectory, you’re going to have to struggle to avoid a death sentence as a serial killer. I recommend you let us know if there’s any reason we should be looking into anyone else.”
Rosabelle nods eagerly in agreement. "Of course, of course! Anything to bring this investigation to a swift and satisfying conclusion!"
"Grammond! The notebook!" She points at her colleague without looking, who fumbles with his charcoal before flipping the notebook open.
"Now, to start, we understand the Shieldmarshals have arrested a suspect in relation to this case. Can you tell us anything about them?"
---------------------
Caeric's face pales, and his facade of bravado gradually crumbles. Between Tuco's threat, Jase's attempts at negotiation and Joie explaining, in plain terms, exactly what is in store for him if he doesn't cooperate, it doesn't take long before he throws up his hands.
"Well, there was the grave rot, right? I don't smell like that, and you know it!"
He blinks, his eyes widening. He looks as if he just said something he shouldn't have.
Faithe considered what, exactly, she could say about the man that had been arrested. She was quiet just long enough that it seemed she might not answer before finally saying, "We don't know his exact connection or if he is connected at all and not a lucky accidental discovery. He was impersonating one of the morgue attendants who we found, alive, in a body bag in the back."
Jase smiled slyly at Caeric, tapping his chin. "Why yes, that's very astute, Enoch. I mean, Caeric. And just how do you know there was grave rot present? Who does smell like that?"
The young man kept himself easy-going and composed, figuring that between Tuco and Joie they could handle the intimidation aspect of this. Honestly, he felt like bashing the man in the face once or thrice and then skipping to the nearest bar for a couple shots, but duty called. There were lives at stake here, possibly, and if his head had to pound for a while longer, so be it.
Despite being outside the room, Daerokh is eagerly listening in at the door.
Grave rot. He remembers the smell vividly and almost wretches. To hide his composure he lets the cunning swashbuckler talk his talk. He was glad deep down he didn't have to extract teeth or worse, but with a murder case like this and a national conspiracy, he wasn't entirely sure what he would have done.
"...well, people who work with dead things, obviously." Caeric replies, fidgeting in his seat. "And dead things."
"I mean, if you've worked in the morgue for longer than a week, the smell doesn't really come out of your work clothes."
-------------------
Grammond, the yellow-clad gnome, feverishly writes down something in his notebook. Rosabelle nods.
"Impersonation of a morgue attendant? Interesting. Do you know why this suspect was impersonating a morgue attendant?"
Jase nodded, "Mmmm hmmm, laundering issues galore, I'm sure. Not really the point we're getting at though, is it? How long had you been impersonating Enoch? And let's cut to the heart of the matter...who or what has been murdering these people? And where does Bloodstone fit into it all?" The swashbuckler glanced at Joie and Tuco questioningly, seemingly inviting questions of theirs if they had any to add.
Faithe considered the question and thought back over what had happened so far and then said, "No, we have no idea yet. What my companions have learned while we've been out here I do not know. I believe they were having problems getting him to talk and they asked us to come try and speak with him."
"He ain't that smart, doubt he knows much 'bout them things you asking." Tuco finds a needle and thread, "The best question is, who put yous up to it? You seem like a decent chap, surely this idea ain't your own... In fact if yous were maybe manipulated into it it might even fall under that big word... Duress?"
Daerokh continues listening...
Rosabelle nods as Grammond feverishly scribbles in his notebook.
"Hmm. We can come back to that later." The pink-haired gnome scratches her chin.
"How did you become involved with this case?"
---------------------
"How long had you been impersonating Enoch?"
"Oh, about three days. Kinda had to after the first kill--that was a right mess."
"And let's cut to the heart of the matter...who or what has been murdering these people?"
Caeric cringes. "...I only saw his face once. He called himself 'Mexerius'--and he was this ugly-looking, gaunt albino in a heavy cloak."
"And where does Bloodstone fit into it all?"
The suspect glances at the mirror on the wall. "It's what Mexerius was after. You'd have to ask him--I just did the jobs he wanted me to do."
"The best question is, who put yous up to it? You seem like a decent chap, surely this idea ain't your own... In fact if yous were maybe manipulated into it it might even fall under that big word... Duress?"
Caeric looks at Tuco for a moment, blinks, then smiles.
"Yes, yes, he did. Practically twisted my arm to get me to do it. I mean, I wanted no part of this murder spree."
...amazing. He actually has the balls to tell a blatant lie in this case.
Jase listened calmly as the man answered his questions, smiling in self-satisfaction. They had a name and description now, plus at least a semblance of motive. As Caeric answered Tuco's leading question dubiously, the young man looked unconvinced but shrugged it away. The half-orc hadn't promised anything, and if it kept the man talking, so be it.
"What went wrong with the first one? Why so messy? And where were you to meet with this Mexerius?" The swashbuckler rattled off the questions rapid-fire, staring at the man expectantly as he stopped speaking.
Faithe considered whether she would answer the question just posed to her carefully. It was a very personal question for her, one she was loathe to speak of since she didn't quite know what it was herself, but she finally decided that it wouldn't hurt to tell them. It took a moment more to form the words before she said, "I saw the picture on the paper this morning about the murders. Something about it was..."she trailed of a moment as she tried to put it into words, "familiar but I don't know why."
Faithe grew quiet again and said, "I'll tell you a story but it must be kept to yourself. I won't see it printed." Her tone was adamant and coupled with it's echoing quality from the shadows she stood in had a tone of ominous finality to it. She waited for their agreement before she spoke.
Faithe looked directly at the reporter, "I think that what is happening now is connected to what happened then. If I find who is doing this I might find who did that and be able to let my clan rest at piece with the death of their killer."
Rosabelle looks between you and Grammond before nodding at the yellow-clad gnome. He reluctantly puts his notebook away.
The two gnomes listen to your story with interest.
-------------------
"What went wrong with the first one? Why so messy?"
"Did you know that it's harder than it looks to stab a fat man to death?" Caeric shrugs. "Hevro was a burly guy. He almost got away--that's when Mexerius had to step in."
And where were you to meet with this Mexerius?"
"Oh, here and there. He never mentioned anywhere specific to me."
"He probably did to the smokestack-sweep we picked up, though." A smug grin breaks out on his face. "Oh, did I forget to mention that? I wasn't the only one he picked."
Joie responds dismissively to Caeric's smugness. "Of course you weren't the only one he picked. The sweep is a known entity already, but any information you can give us to expedite our search will reflect favorably on you."
"Of course, if you lie, I will remind you that it will go poorly."
"...And keep in mind that you are a very poor liar."
"Oh? Did you know he's probably on his way to Verne's place now?"
"Hell, he's probably shot him and his yowling furball by now."
Joie nods. "That's all I needed to hear. I leave the rest of this questioning in your capable hands, gentlemen," she says, slipping through the doorway, tapping Daerokh on the shoulder, and walking swiftly toward the exit.
"We told Verne to come to the precinct, skip town, or quietly stay with a friend-- anywhere but where he lives," she says quickly as they move; she gathers Alorea and Faithe as well, if they're willing, and Greystone if she can find him quickly, before flagging down the police carriage.
"Verne's place, as quickly as you can get us there."
She turns to her companions once they're aboard.
"Caeric stated that an accomplice is en route to Verne's house with the intent to kill. They're not aware that he likely isn't there, and with any luck, this accomplice is going to try to be thorough and search the place when he's unable to find his mark. That should, hopefully, give us enough time to surround him and move in."
She pulls her dan bong into her hand. "We've been told he has a firearm. I'll take point; I've been trained to deal with them. We may want to keep an eye on alternate exit points to make sure he doesn't slip out when he hears footsteps."
Daerokh follows after Joie as soon as she leaves and motions for him to come, hustling into the carriage after her.
"Heard the whole thing, there's no time to lose!" he says as they go.
Daerokh sets up his pelletbow as they ride.
"Firearms don't scare me. I've trained around them my entire life. You give me an opening I'll send a bullet of my own a-whizzlin' his way before he's even got a chance to aim. And my hunting experience will come in handy watching the exits. You always want to make sure the prey THINKS they have an out, otherwise they feel trapped and get much more dangerous. Even docile critters can be vicious when they're cornered."
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It had been a long day, and Alorea had, embarrassingly, fallen asleep in the carriage. She snorts awake as Joie and the others climb aboard. "Huh? Whazzat?" she mumbles sleepily.
Once filled in on the situation, she nods. "Aha! The game is afoot! Don't worry, he won't escape on our watch!"
Tuco watches Joie slip out of the room, "Seems like our audience has shrunk chum. Dunno what that be meanin' to you."
Hope Verne ain't bleedin'. But Faithe there, she might know some of that bone mending.
Jase shook his head at Caeric's statement about the first murder, but otherwise remained silent. The man had just admitted to killing the man, and pretty much forfeited his life. The swashbuckler's face darkened as the murderer mentioned another accomplice, along with this Mexerius, watching Joie as she exited the room quickly and tapped Daerokh to presumable come along to try to secure Verne.
Jase was torn, but decided that if he and Tuco could secure more information out of Caeric, that would be better. Assuming Alorea and Faithe joined the duo of Joie and Daerokh, that would be four against the chimney sweep and the mysterious ringleader. The young man sighed, looking askance at Tuco as the half-orc spoke ominously to the captive. The half-orc wasn't any of the three lovely ladies, but he was what he had to work with, and probably was the best for this particular job.
Working up his nerve, Jase walked around the front of Caeric, making a show of looking out the door before closing it again. "There went any law enforcement that gave a damn about abiding by the legalities of prisoner treatment and all that, friend. My friend Tuco, here...he stayed cause he has all those pretty instruments over there and hadn't gotten to play with them yet. I stayed because I want to get this over with and go get a drink instead of run all over Alkenstar. Anything else you want to volunteer about your mysterious employer or anybody else you might be working with? The source of the grave rot at the scenes, for example...it's too strong to be just residue from a morgue attendant. What is it?"
Jase looked over at Tuco and subtly nodded at the half-orc, hoping he'd take the cue. While the doctor was a healer by nature, his very appearance and manner could be intimidating if cultivated correctly.
It isn't difficult for Joie to find and convince Shieldmarshal Greystone to follow them. Once a police carriage has been brought around to the precinct's front, it waits long enough for Joie, Daerokh, Faithe, Alorea and Greystone to get in before it makes a mad dash into the night. The two reporter gnomes are left in the light of the precinct's front step, bewildered.
Upon reaching Verne's home in Steamhaven, the first thing the team notices is that the entire street is dark. A couple of lights are on in windows here and there, but otherwise there's no other sign of life.
A single light is on in the upper windows of Verne's home.
---------------------
"Anything else to volunteer? Only that if you don't really know what sort of creature spreads grave rot around, you don't deserve to know. It's obvious, really."
"I'll give you a hint--that grave rot stench is at its strongest when a victim has been... paralyzed." Caeric's smug demeanour begins to crack and slide into a mix of apathy and instability.
"I ain't know then and I ain't know now. Caeric, you best not be puzzlin' around much longer because we still has question you didn't answer."
He approaches Caeric and screams out in mock pain "Ow! You! You bit me you damn monster!" The words are loud enough for anyone outside to possibly hear, and then he begins unraveling his whip, "You assaulted me!"
The Tailor cracks the whip across the room, "Lets play a game." He pulls out 5 gold pieces his friend gave him earlier that morning after a patchup. "You gots five fingers on that hand," He places the coins on Caeric's tied up hands, "Dun drop them now."
"You tells me five things about this case. Each time you do, I whip off a coin. If Jase here decides he's bored however and wants to get a drink and you has some coins left... Well... I might just collect some collectibles for me tribal magic bag." He moves closer to his ear, "For each... Coin... Left."
Whatever was left of Caeric's smug posturing shatters like glass as Tuco makes a show of finally losing his temper. His face turns a pale white and his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.
"M-Mexerius is a ghoul! He has a lair in the Undercity--it-it's in an old depleted iron mine! It's got a dark red lantern in front of it! He's brought other undead, traps and other shit down there for security!"
"The kid and I were supposed to grab whatever Bloodstone documents we could find on the scribes and bring them there!"
It isn't difficult for Joie to find and convince Shieldmarshal Greystone to follow them. Once a police carriage has been brought around to the precinct's front, it waits long enough for Joie, Daerokh, Faithe, Alorea and Greystone to get in before it makes a mad dash into the night. The two reporter gnomes are left in the light of the precinct's front step, bewildered.
Upon reaching Verne's home in Steamhaven, the first thing the team notices is that the entire street is dark. A couple of lights are on in windows here and there, but otherwise there's no other sign of life.
A single light is on in the upper windows of Verne's home.
Darkness is no trouble to Daerokh's sharp dwarven eyes, and he casts about to quickly find a way in...and see if this Mexerius has left any "friends" lurking in the dark to intercept them.
The Tailor grins and waits for Caeric to flinch as he starts winding up the whip then suddenly a sharp crack pierces the air and the sound of gold hitting the floor breaks the uncomfortably thick atmosphere.
"You may redeem youself yet. I keep my word, I be tellin' the Marshal 'bout yous helpin' us." He gathers his things, making sure to collect the coins as well before turning to Caeric one final time, "Ghoul huh? Hope for yous sake they ain't be havin' a surprise for us there."
Nodding to Jase, the half-orc leaves the room.
Dammit. This here is trouble, all of it.
Joie glances over the two dwarves. "Greystone, Arrandur-- can you keep your weapons trained on any exits? I think between your eyes and your weapons, you're our best lookouts," she half-suggests, half-orders.
I have no idea how Miss 'Advance Investigator' fights, so I'm at a disadvantage tactically here. ...Not to mention I've yet to find a reason to trust her.
The shieldmarshal draws his gun and keeps it trained on the home's front door.
Jase grinned at Tuco behind the prisoner's back, nodding in appreciation at the half-orc's feigned anger and rather clever display with the coins. The young man remained silent as the smug criminal finally cracked completely, giving up his employer's identity and supposedly where he could be found.
As Tuco started to leave, Jase asked a final question. "Do you still have any of the bloodstone documents around?" Regardless of the answer or lack thereof, the swashbuckler smirked and gave Caeric a mock salute, making sure to close the door and lock it behind him.
Catching up to the Tailor, he said, "You know anything about ghouls? Sounds pretty bad..." As they continued along, he said, "So what now, fellow constable? Find the others or try to find this entrance to Undercity that Mexerius is holed up in?"
"Stay on your toes, fellas. Be ready for anything. Don't shoot till you see the whites of their eyes!" Alorea chimes in, playfully mimicking Joie's clipped tone. The sylph draws her rapier and nods to the military woman. "Ready to move out, ma'am! Shall we try a stealthy approach?"
Joie glances over the two dwarves. "Greystone, Arrandur-- can you keep your weapons trained on any exits? I think between your eyes and your weapons, you're our best lookouts," she half-suggests, half-orders.
I have no idea how Miss 'Advance Investigator' fights, so I'm at a disadvantage tactically here. ...Not to mention I've yet to find a reason to trust her.
Daerokh nods and does the same, his pelletbow loaded and ready.
"I dun know nothin' 'bout ghouls actually. He says they paralyze people so it makes me worried to head down there with jus' us two." He puts a hand to his chin, "We dun' head down. What we can do is poke 'round a little to speed it up when they do return." He smirks, "Les see if any scum know what the undercity is a part of."
The Tailor begins to saunter off but stops in his tracks, "... Wait." He turns back to the precinct, "Les observe this 'ere place. See if our friend tries to get silenced by his 'friend'."