"...Orman. Name's Orman." The young man's breathing seems to be steadying.
Jase thought over the gnome's question for several moments, trying to think of an answer that would satisfy while still leaving out most of the details. He nodded at Tuco, trying to adopt a serious expression as he spoke. "The person was brought in for questioning in the scribe case. I can't go over what we spoke about, but I can say it was enlightening. Every little bit helps. How long you worked as a reporter?"
Rosabelle looks a bit disappointed. "Oh."
"How long you worked as a reporter?"
"Oh, I've been doing reporting work for about five years now. This Smokeside Scribe Slasher case is perhaps the most excitement I've had in a long time now--prior to this, I was mostly confined to reporting on rather drier topics, such as worker strikes."
Daerokh sighs and retrieves the dagger, holding it up with the blade in his fingers to look non-threatening.
"Orman, did that 'red-eyed pasty freak' tell you to steal this?"
Orman's blinks and he nods several times.
Jase nodded, smiling down at the gnomish woman. "I see. This could be your big break for the paper, yeah? What other information have you gotten about the case? You seem a clever sort, so maybe you have something that was overlooked..."
Orman's blinks and he nods several times.
"And did he tell you want he wanted it for?" Daerokh asks.
Orman shakes his head. "No. But I think I can guess."
There's something about Jase's demeanour that causes Rosabelle to start chattering away. "Oh, we've uncovered bits and pieces here and there, Mr. Everluck. We do know that one of the victims was carved up by some manner of clawed implement, but the rest were all stabbed. I'd imagine we'd have more information to share with the public if the District Chief wouldn't stonewall us at every turn."
Grammond looks nervously between Rosabelle and Jase, as if he's questioning whether his boss knows she's giving away confidential information.
"If you ask me, this whole affair sounds remarkably suspicious. I mean, the timing couldn't be more convenient--before all this happened, Geb's been threatening to increase tariffs on our food imports, for some baffling reason. Doesn't that sound strange to you?"
Orman shakes his head. "No. But I think I can guess."
Daerokh nods and puts the dagger away.
"If you read the papers this morning, you probably can. This was the murder weapon in the latest scribe murder. Now, given what we've seen and already know about your particular involvement, it's clear whoever put you up to this is probably the murderer. In order to protect you and your family from him, we're gonna need to catch him, and to do that, we'll need to know whatever you can tell us about him. Okay, Orman?"
Jase adopted a friendly expression, actively engaged with Rosabelle as she spoke, nodding at appropriate times and generally showing interest but not interrupting. When the small woman mentioned Geb and the tariffs, Jase didn't even think about what she said, so intent was he upon keeping her talking.
"Yeah, that Shieldmarshal is a right pain to deal with. Better to be with him than against him, though, I reckon." The young man's brow furrowed as Rosabelle mentioned tariffs. "That does sound rather odd, actually. Perhaps it's a coincidence." Jase's eyes met Tuco's for a moment, hoping the half-orc would help him to remember that detail.
"Welllll, I guess we better be off. Don't want ole Sergeant Fussbottom coming out spying us talking to you guys, or we'll get another lecture. See you around!" With that, he turned and started to walk away, hopefully with Tuco in tow, giving the gnomes a friendly wave before speed-walking away.
Tuco listens in and smirks, Jase had a way of making people talk and he was glad of it for once. Stonewalling? Why? The half-orc considered the implications but then heard the news of Geb.
"Yeah... Mighty big coincidence. Is Geb tryin' to starve us 'ere?" The Tailor wasn't much for politics but knew that food was one of those things that if people struggled with would cause ripples and impacts throughout. "Good to know friends. Mebbee 'dis info be useful down the road." He steps closer and bends down, "If yous two find out more 'bout the tariffs, suppose you be gettin' more information 'bout this case too... If yous catch my drift. Info has a way of reachin' this 'ere city in so many ways."
He gives a friendly wave and starts walking with Jase.
"I dun like this one bit. Feels like Geb wants this stone and 'dey be puttin' pressure with the food tax. See this is noteworthy, in mine own eyes I can't do nothin' to stop this tax, but it be pissin' me off. So who do I's run to? The man on top. 'Dat bloke is 'da one gettin' the real squeeze from us bein' all mad-like." He twiddles some twine, "Geb wants stone. Geb raises food tax. Man on top gives in to demands for fears of peoples like us bein' all Galtan... This goes high." The twine breaks and he ties it back together, "Goes high chummer."
Orman nervously swallows. "Um... yeah. Gotcha."
"I-I don't know how he found me, or why he picked me. He and this other guy cornered me after I was getting off my shift--I never seen either o' them before in my life. The red-eyed creep said he had his eye on me for a while."
"He said he knew where I lived and where my Momma lived. Dunno if he was bluffin', but it sure didn't look like it. Told me to steal a subtle weapon for his buddy to use. I picked one that was pretty recognizable."
"I thought that'd be the end of it." Orman shakes his head. "He cornered me again--this time after his pal got busted. Shoved a gun into my hands and told me to kill the guy who lived here. He told me that once he was dead, I needed to head to Graeson's Fingers and 'look for the red lantern'."
Jase watched Tuco twiddle with his string with curiosity, wondering how he had developed that nervous habit over time. For all his quirks, Jase loved to study people and learn what made them tick (the better to irritate them if the time came). The half-orc had mentioned an accident not so long ago, and a harder life on the street than what he did now. Was that stress relief, a way to vent frustration to prevent the release of the savage beneath? The young man thought that perhaps he was getting a bit carried away with his imagination.
Jase's brow furrowed in hard thought before he looked at Tuco, "But here's the rub...no one we've talked to seems to regard this Bloodstone as anything more than a myth. So there's either a huge cover up in Alkenstar to destroy the records, or Geb is taking a big chance on stirring up trouble here over something that doesn't exist. Or the answer is in plain sight and we just don't recognize it. Damn it all...think we have time to stop to wet our whistles?"
"Then we know where to go. Let's get you and yours to safety and pick up the others."
He turns to the others.
"Much as it may tip off our man his minecart's gone off the rails, we shouldn't let Orman's family come to harm in retaliation."
The Tailor puts his stuff away and listens to Jase's words, "Aye, yous hopefully right." He shakes his head, "I jus' don' think it be that easy is all I sayin'." Looking into the distance he considers the facts so far and the new man he's been working with, "Sure les head on over. Before it all we should leaves a note with the precinct here, and makes sure we ain't not wanderin' about too far aye?"
Grinning he takes makes sure everything is in place and his clothes are clean (enough) before setting to move, "Don't be gettin' sick now I ain't be makin' alchemist kindness for free yous dig?" He slaps Jase's back and begins to head off.
Joie slips her dan bong away and tightens one of her gloves. "Right you are. If it wasn't an empty threat, it also gives us a rendezvous point, if we can avoid tipping our hand. We may be two steps too far for that, though," she says with a frown.
"No help for it. Let's move out!" Alorea says cheerfully.
Jase smiled wearily at the half-orc, glad for the respite and the imminent prospect of a drink in hand. Mindful of Tuco's words, he quickly walked into the Precinct and left word that if their companions returned before the duo did, they'd be at the Lazy Duck tavern questioning the locals.
With loose ends tied up, Jase sped off with Tuco to the bar, his step brisk and eyes bright if a bit tired at the relatively late hour. A stout shot or two ought to have him feeling up to the challenge for several more hours yet.
"No help for it. Let's move out!" Alorea says cheerfully.
"Come on, Orman. They'll be better able to protect you at the station than at home," Daerokh replies. Then he checks to see where the gun went and if it hasn't already been taken, picks it up.
Daerokh retrieves Orman’s pistol and the team meets up with Shieldmarshal Greystone, still waiting by the carriage. Once the carriage begins moving, Orman starts explaining his side of the story to the haggard Shieldmarshal.
When the carriage is halfway across the bridge back to the Auburn District precinct, Greystone clears his throat. ”Well. The first big break we’ve had in days. I’ll send a few Marshals around to the kid’s place to bring his family in—it’ll be safer for them at the station than out in Smokeside.”
The carriage pulls up in front of the precinct. There’s no one else around. ”You lot can go home for the night—get some sleep. We’ll pick this up and get organized tomorrow.”
—————————
It doesn’t take the two of them long to find the Lazy Duck. It’s the most plainly furnished of all of Skyside’s pubs, but the drinks served there are just as alcoholic as anywhere else in town. The ice wine in particular is quite strong, and after a few glasses they start to feel that warm buzz of inebriation.
—————————
Fireday, 11th of Arodus, 4710 AR
Another day dawns. The sun’s red rays filter through the haze of Smokeside.
The Lone Star Gazette has a new headline today…
More Details To Be Released
Joie awakens at reveille in Skyside with the rest of the troops, donning her crisp uniform and reporting for roll call. As before, it's not until after morning drills and a hearty breakfast that she manages to get ahold of the paper.
Speculation, but not entirely to our disadvantage, if the killer thinks we've stopped here... but I'd be surprised if he's that naive.
Seeing Tuco and Jase have made the station conspicuous with their absence, Daerokh asks after them and tracks them down at the Lazy Duck. Once he finds them, he fills them in on what they've discovered.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After Daerokh awakens and gets himself cleaned up, he spots the paper and frowns.
"That's not what slagging happened last night," he mutters to no one in particular as he begins scrounging up some breakfast.
Jase greeted Daerokh warmly when the dwarf walked into the Lazy Duck, in a much better mood and well into his cups. The young man listened as the ranger filled him and the half-orc in on the events at Verne's abode, the contrast between Orman and the murderous impostor. After Daerokh had finished and Jase's attention span came around to it, the swashbuckler informed the dwarf of the bits that he and Tuco had uncovered on their own. Mindful that they would likely be starting early, Jase managed to stumble out of the tavern a few ticks of the clock before the turn of the night, weaving his way home relatively happy and with a sense of purpose.
Jase awoke a little after sunrise, the window in his small apartment letting in the blazing sun in all its blinding glory. A wonderful alarm clock it made. Squinting, he looked beside him to make sure he hadn't managed to find some company for the night that he would have to send off. The coast was blessedly clear, so he stood up and stretched, his mouth a bit dry but otherwise feeling pretty swell. Or he would be, after he had a morning mug or two to start things off.
Jase opened his door quickly, looking about for any prying eyes before picking up his neighbor's Lone Star Gazette and hurrying back inside. He chuckled a bit at the alliteration in the headline, though the implication was clear. Someone was trying to forestall a panic by insinuating that the perp was a loner and in custody. A clever half-truth, if rather short-sighted. Hopefully he and his companions could coalesce and make sure no one in Alkenstar knew the difference.
The young man quickly got ready, including rubbing a bit of soap on himself and making sure to pick the least aromatic pieces of clothing he had available to put on before strapping on his weapon and heading out. Since no meeting place had been announced, he assumed they would convene at the Auburn Precinct and so set out for there, making a quick stop for a tankard along the way.
Tuco enjoys a night of right proper revelry after the work they have done. Seeing the young man's demeanor change a little for the better, he hopes he had made the right decision, though he had little time to ruminate before falling asleep at home.
The next morning seemed to have brought news, wrong news but news nonetheless. Of course it wouldn't be from any newspaper but just rumblings from the few people in Old Ironside who actually had the paper and better yet, knew how to read. He was shocked that the morning brought no real patrons but with the streets being as rough as they are, it made sense the more he considered it.
The false news on the paper made him grimace, he wondered if such a thing could be turned to their advantage but decided it would be better to discuss it with the others. With nowhere else to go the half-orc gathered his things went to the door and flipped his little sign to C L O S E D and did his daily rituals in the morning.
He prepared a few spells, hoping he wouldn't have to use them but the Tailor had no qualms with being ready for a potentially dangerous situation. Ghouls worried him even if he did not know truly what they were. He readied two spells that could be useful against them and one in case they needed to find the red lantern.
Unsure whether or not he should prepare his usual rope magic, he asked his patron and was greeted with a kind word back through the mirror. Just asking was considered devotion enough, and the mysterious entity was proud of the thought but wanted him to be able to serve as best he can.
Getting his stuff together, he went out hoping to stop along the way to buy some alchemical supplies.
Alorea is up early, too excited about making progress on the case to sleep well. She's the first to arrive at the meeting point, fidgeting and adjusting her armor straps as she waits for the rest of the group to show up.
Once the party has reunited at the Auburn District precinct, Shieldmarshal Greystone meets them in the lobby.
"Alright--glad you all could make it. We've asked Orman a few questions, and so far what he's given us corroborates with what you've been able to pry from Caeric." He sighs and brushes off some dust from his pants. "Problem is--"
"GreySTOOOOOOOOONE!" A man's voice bellows from deeper within the precinct. The Shieldmarshal winces.
"--aside from the chief not being happy, the problem is that we weren't able to get much else out of him. We have a lead--the 'red lantern' in Graeson's Fingers. You'll have to investigate it--"
A series of thundering footsteps come from a floor above the lobby, and within a few moments an angry, balding man comes storming into the lobby. His duster does little to hide his large paunch, but underneath the duster is a well-tailored suit of dark blue silk. His meaty hands are trembling. "Have you seen the headlines today?!" He looks at the investigation team. "Any of you?!"
Tuco says his pleasantries to all of the other investigators, today was a new day and he knew full well that it would bring surprises as well as new challenges. His mood had improved significantly after the events yesterday, though hearing the bellowing chief he looks at Jase and grins.
We best be on the same page 'ere chummer.
"Aye wells, I be seen it this morn'. Looks methinks it may be a blessin' in disguise." Shrugging he looks at Greystone before turning back to the chief, "Look the killer be off guard now or prob's be smirkin' to themselves. I say this totes serendipitous news be seized aye?" He emphasizes how totally by chance this whole news story is, "Best way to catch youself some fiend is to make 'dem think theys be winnin' else they be just goin' under more."
Faithe went home and crashed that first night. She was utterly exhausted after all they had done that day and badly needed the rest. As it was she slept quite a bit later that morning than she should have. By the time she was ready to go it was nearly mid day, or she thought so anyway, and she threw on a heavy cloak to shield her from the sun.
As she made her way towards the station to, she assumed, meet with the others, she saw the paper and read the headline. Faithe found it wasn't entirely inaccurate and may make the real killer relax a bit. Still she had no idea just how mad the chief was at the moment as she simply hadn't made it there yet.
"Yes, and it's a load of bull-puckey," Daerokh deadpans when Da Chief storms in to yell at them.
Jase returned Tuco's grin at the bellowing voice of Greystone's superior, listening to the Shieldmarshal's concise report before his boss strolled in. Hearing the half-orc and dwarf's reply, the young man opted for a different approach. "Nope, I try not to read."
He turned back to Greystone, trying to hide his smirk, "Red lantern it is, sir. Good luck with all that." Shrugging, he waved to the Chief and then turned away towards the exit, half-grinning (the half facing away from the pissed-off captain) at any of the party between him and the door on the way out.
Alorea smirks as well. "Chief," she says, throwing Greystone a salute before slipping off after Jase.
"Shall we?" she asks the musketeer.
Joie sighs. So unprofessional.
"The downside to volunteers, sir," she offers as explanation. "I must be off, or they'll set the carriage going without me." With that, she offers a brief salute and follows after.
Daerokh looks back and forth between the Chief and the trio starting to leave, giving an awkward, confused look to both before following them out.
"You're just gonna leave it like that?" he asks no one in particular.
Shieldmarshal Greystone winces. "...yes, Chief Barnes."
"Greystone, get in my office and explain HOW, exactly, word of this leaked to the press. The last f@%+ing thing we need to give the people is false hope! Get going!" He points down the corridor.
"And YOU--" He starts before noticing that most of the investigation team has already left. He grumbles. "--eh, f@&& it. Just--just bring this sick f*&*er in, alright? Cat's out of the bag now anyway."
Jase looked back and found the willowy investigator following close behind after she spoke, nodding with a grin. "Of course! I suppose we could stick around for whatever mumbo jumbo that fellow has in store for us, but I say we let Greystone take one for the team and get this case finished up. Results always seem to smooth things over." He cocked his head to the side a bit, noting that the sylph left a rather fair impression on the eye in the morning light.
Then he noticed Daerokh trudging up after them with Joie, the swashbuckler chuckling at the dwarf's question. "Look, we can either stay in there and get yelled at for whatever captain what's-his-name is upset about, or we can go to the Red Lantern and get this thing done. Meetings have their place, but I don't have time for some bureaucrat's tongue-lashing. Let's finish this up so we don't have another murder to solve."
And so I can get my reward for all this, too. Jase thought it, but didn't say it. While he thought Alorea would agree, Daerokh had always struck him as kind-hearted and thinking of the collective good, like most dwarves, while the soldier would likely look down her nose at the prospect of being paid for the work at all.
The half-orc watches everyone else leave the room and he grins to the chief. "Be seein' ye. Best not to dwell, 'nother murder be worse than the lies yeah?" He gives a clumsy salute and starts walking off outside.
Seeing how they all handled the situation was intriguing to him, but he didn't have the time to dissect Jase's obvious head turns, Daerok's bewilderment, Alorea's sudden hurry to catch Jase, nor Joie's disapproving frown. They had one shot to stop this murderer and prevent Alkenstar from going to the dogs.
"This 'ere guy, he be a ghoul. Can't tells you much 'bout 'dem but he's undead and most likely mean judgin' by the actions so far." He scratches the bottom of his chin and adjusts his collar, "So, ready to find us some friends in low places?"
Tuco looks to the others, "They said it be undercity yeah? Les go ask 'round the slums. Dun wanna be all obvious like so keep it low." He shrugs, some of his cloth falling off his shoulder, "'Less you has somethin' better?"
Thinking that Tuco had it right, Jase hurried off with the others towards a suitably awful area of Smokeside, taking a detour into one of the local dives after holding up a finger to indicate for his companions to wait a moment. The young man sauntered up to the bartop, slapping a silver on the counter.
"Mug of ale, chum. Know where I can find the Red Lantern, while you're filling it for me?" Jase placed another silver next to the first, a fine brow arching as he waited for the drink to be offered forward.
As the group came out of the station they found Faithe waiting for them in what seemed the only path of shadow around that day. "Are we ready to go," her voice echoed from the dim area, "and do we have any more information about who the real killer is?"
"I guess we are. They don't want to stick around and talk with the Chief, so I guess we're on our way. The only thing we know for sure is that our man's a ghoul, and he's given his pawns instructions to search for a red lantern when they've completed their tasks for him," Daerokh replies as they travel to Smokeside.
"Ghouls?" Faithe thought over the subject, trying to figure out what she knew of the things, if anything.
The dive you've rolled up into is one that seems decidedly unfriendly. Several of the rough-looking patrons eye you suspiciously, their hands reaching into their coats but otherwise keeping their distance.
The bartender--a particularly hard-bitten woman in her early forties--fills up a mug of lukewarm ale and shoves it your way. "Red Lantern? What, you lookin' for some kinda brothel or something?" She replies, her voice raspy and decidedly grating to listen to.
Jase eyed the locals with a bit of (hidden) amusement, thinking that maybe he should have let the stink and dust of yesterday stay on him so he'd fit in better. Hoping none of them got antsy enough to actually use the guns their hands were decidedly closer to, he pressed on.
The young man couldn't help but laugh at the bartender's response, "Oi, ya got me there, chum. That's that song about the hooker, right? Roxy or something like that?" He glanced sidelong at the folks nearby, certain he could see their fingers slowly tightening on triggers inside their jackets.
"How about Graeson's Fingers, then? That ring any bells?"
"The Fingers, eh?" She arches an eyebrow at you. "Well, you wandered into the wrong damn part of town. It's back across the bridge, northeast part o' Skyside."
"Ghouls?" Faithe thought over the subject, trying to figure out what she knew of the things, if anything.
[dice=Knowledge (religion) untrained]1d20
"Yeah, that's the short of it...and that has a WHOLE LOTTA bad implications," Daerokh replies.
Jase slapped his forehead at the news, then shook his head. "Yeesh, might be into my cups a bit early this morning. Thanks for the memory lift, m'lady." The young man chugged the bitter brew down, thinking it might be a bit before he was able to indulge in another. With a wave at the bartender and a respectful nod to the trigger-happy patrons, he exited and went to join his fellows who were in the midst of a discussion.
He politely waited for a break in the conversation, putting a hand over his mouth and turning his head to the side to quiet a belch before excitedly speaking, "Turns out we're on pretty much the opposite end of the city. Graeson's Fingers is a district on the Skyside...side of Alkenstar. Northeast corner. Anyone need to grab anything? If not, let's move out! We have a ki..."
The young man cut himself off, looking about before speaking more softly after determining there weren't any other people close by, "killer to catch!"