Waiting for a little bit for Daen to get here to make his own rolls, but if I don't hear from him by tomorrow I'll do the roll and let you know what, if anything, you discover.
The bedroom didn't contain any great mysteries to Phin's sharp eyes. A single bed, a wardrobe stocked with what a reasonably wealthy middle-aged Brelish man without much a sense of an adventure might wear, and a small writing table set in a corner.
As the elf ran the tips of her fingers over likely seams in the wood she found what had to be a hidden compartment. A bit of gentle pressure applied with the tip of a blade did the trick and the table revealed its secrets - a thin book, perhaps a ledger. Intrigued, Phin took a look inside. At first, she thought the entries were written in code, but after a few more minutes of careful consideration she began wondering if the art dealer had just been singularly bad at keeping his records straight.
Daen approached the powder cautiously. "You should all be pretty cautious with that." Most of what he knew about dangerous powders and poisons were academic, as the demand for his craft shifted into other directions. Slipping out his alchemy crafting kit, he removed a via and carefully shifted some of the power into it. Looking over his mutagens and extracts, he looked up at the others. "This will take a little while.
As the elf ran the tips of her fingers over likely seams in the wood she found what had to be a hidden compartment. A bit of gentle pressure applied with the tip of a blade did the trick and the table revealed its secrets - a thin book, perhaps a ledger. Intrigued, Phin took a look inside. At first, she thought the entries were written in code, but after a few more minutes of careful consideration she began wondering if the art dealer had just been singularly bad at keeping his records straight.
Phin's pulse quickened as she discovered the hidden compartment. Perhaps this would lead to the break in the case. After all, if you were going to have a secret stash then it had to be important. The rogue was horribly disappointed by the book she found. "Why even hide this?" she murmured to herself.
She took the possible ledger and rejoined the others. "Found something else." She handed it over to Sebastian, "Any ideas as to what the entries mean?"
As the elf ran the tips of her fingers over likely seams in the wood she found what had to be a hidden compartment. A bit of gentle pressure applied with the tip of a blade did the trick and the table revealed its secrets - a thin book, perhaps a ledger. Intrigued, Phin took a look inside. At first, she thought the entries were written in code, but after a few more minutes of careful consideration she began wondering if the art dealer had just been singularly bad at keeping his records straight.Phin's pulse quickened as she discovered the hidden compartment. Perhaps this would lead to the break in the case. After all, if you were going to have a secret stash then it had to be important. The rogue was horribly disappointed by the book she found. "Why even hide this?" she murmured to herself.
She took the possible ledger and rejoined the others. "Found something else." She handed it over to Sebastian, "Any ideas as to what the entries mean?"
Erix cracked a grin. "That's two clues, right? I see Phin's earning her keep today."
Oh dear... those rolls aren't to die for, but the DC is low, and Alua at least has the necessary soup kitchen background to figure out it's actually baking flour ;^)
Funny story about that flour... as I said, I ran this campaign years ago for my local tabletop group (well, something like this, since that time the threat of a never-ending white Christmas was on the table and a certain legacy weapon was instrumental to the plotline), they decided to pay big money to have an alchemist analyze the mystery powder. The fellow recognized the flour for what it was at first sight, pretty much, but didn't exactly say no to a quite large amount of cash (pretty much the entire advance payment the group got). So he analyzed the hell out of the sample, presented his findings the next day... and the group flat out refused to believe and answer. To the end of days, they remained convinced the powder had been some exotic drug or whatever and the alchemist was merely lying to them ;^)
Anything else you want to do in the apartment, or should I wrap up this leg and take you... where? There's the body to see, and one witness to interview, but from what you were told it's be evening before the witness would be back at his room in a local inn.
It matches. Perhaps the art dealer just cared more about his art than actual bookkeeping?
She took the possible ledger and rejoined the others. "Found something else." She handed it over to Sebastian, "Any ideas as to what the entries mean?"
Erix cracked a grin. "That's two clues, right? I see Phin's earning her keep today."
Sebastian quipped, "Yeah, Phin. This almost makes up for selling the paperboy short."
He added in a more serious tone, "Let's take the ledger with us. We can take a closer look later."
FLOUR
"Flour? Really." Sebastian shook his head, "Let's search the kitchen and see if he even has flour. It sounds like he may eat out most of the time."
Sebastian looked around to make sure they hadn't missed anything. He then looked at the group, "Let's go see the body. Alua, your skills should be helpful there. We can go visit our witness later this evening."
Nope, the kitchen does not contain such arcane culinary reagents as flour. And if it ever has, all evidence has been thoroughly eliminated.
Alua moaned as she rocked back and forth on the art dealer's floor, unaware of her surroundings, caught in the horror of battle.
Daryl watched the little human rocking on the ground. His head cocked to the side, his eyes drawing the line between the female and the painting. She was clearly affected by the contents.
.it would take little to drive this one to maddnesS
The thought came unbidden to his mind, true though it was. The human seemed frail, though Daryl knew she daily faced similar horrors. Why? Why would she subject herself to something that so clearly caused her pain?
.she craves iT .you could help her with what she desireS.
Daryl lowered onto one knee, his purple glowing eyes only inches from Alua's. It was as if he were not there. She stared through him. He quite liked the sensation.
Alua, his voice sounded, for a moment, alien, even to him. She did not react. He put a hand on her shoulder, Alua, he repeated, louder this time.
Brought back to reality, Alua averted her gaze from the painting. "Cover it up," she asked, her voice hoarse and thick with tears. "Why would anybody paint that? Who would want it?"
Daryl stood, looking back toward the painting, "No one would want it," the warforged said impassionately. "This is a labor of therapy."
Alua looked confused by the statement but before Daryl could explain, Daen walked over.
"Daryl," Daen asked, "have you seen anything like this before? I don't recognize the artist, but then again, I'm only exposed to a small cross section of art in Sharn."
Daryl turned to the artificer, "This is not a piece for selling. Look at the canvas. No one would buy something that would tear under its own weight in a couple of years." Daryl turned back to Alua, "This is a creation for the creator alone. The cover is to hide it from the world. He is ashamed of this creation and paints it so that he never has to think of it again."
Daryl looked toward the balcony, "The artist is haunted by this scene. He may believe that by giving it life, he can exorcise it from his memory." He turned back to Daen, "I would not be surprised if his intention was to eventually burn it."
Daen looked confused, Daryl expanded.
"By burning the image, he can symbolically erase it from his memory." Daryl paused for a moment, the armor plates creaking as he traced just above the line of a sword in the image, "Or perhaps, it is a penance. Perhaps the artist is one of the participants in this battle."
Daryl nodded toward the other room, "I do not recognize this signature. I would not be surprised if the dead man were the artist. We should find some example of his writing to compare. If it is he, this might be evidence of suicide."
Alua, his voice sounded, for a moment, alien, even to him. She did not react. He put a hand on her shoulder, Alua, he repeated, louder this time.
A pair of large, purple glowing orbs descended into the battle, hovering before her eyes. Alua heard her name, louder, and the battle scene before her eyes slowly faded away. It was replaced by a large, inhuman head, glowing purple eyes staring at her, unblinkingly.
Alua had never been entirely comfortable around Daryl. Her troop didn't have any Warforged assigned to it, so the only ones she'd seen in the war had been enemies. This time, however, she was relieved to recognize his strange metal face. She wasn't in battle, but "it" had happened again.
The sympathy in his eyes didn't make it to his voice, and he fell back on training. "Get a hold of yourself, soldier!" He barked. "Here. Now. Attention."
Alua's training responded, and she leapt to her feet, standing smartly at attention. For a second she held it, then realized it wasn't actually necessary. Turning to Erix, she gave him a crooked smile and nodded... she had needed that.
Therapy? Alua couldn't imagine any good at all coming from making something like that. Though she agreed that burning it would be a great idea.
***
As Daen started setting up some odd looking apparatus, Alua thought she recognized what they were all staring at. She stuck her finger in the powder and licked it. "It's just flour," she said, confused.
Sebastian looked around to make sure they hadn't missed anything. He then looked at the group, "Let's go see the body. Alua, your skills should be helpful there. We can go visit our witness later this evening."
Alua nodded, mentally preparing herself for examining the body. It was never easy, but at least it was already laid out on an examining table, and removed from the scene of the violence. "I'm ready."
"What sort of Flour?" Erix asked, caught taking a sample.
"White", Daen said, shaking his head in earnestness without looking at Erix. Dusting his hands, he put up his tools. Pulling out a notebook, he scribbled some quick notes so that he could replace the mutagens that he'd wasted.
"White", Daen said, shaking his head in earnestness without looking at Erix.
*Chuckle* Just about right, with those wonderful rolls ;^) Thank you for that!
Turn 004 - White Sort of Flour
Game on!
Funny... works for me using an incognito browser window. Anyone else have similar issues?
Sebastian really, really wanted to make the priest proselytizing but really wanted to be in his good graces. Happy people tended to be more cooperative and also give bigger tips. The man shook his head and concentrated at the task at hand; he needed this case so he could forget about dour-faced, cheap Karrnathi tourists.
Once in the bowels of the church, he deferred to their resident expert on all things macabre.
He nodded to Alua, "OK, all yours here. I am just going to observe to see if there's anything I see that would help in your examination."
Sebastian then looked at the body but did not touch it. He did peer over Alua's shoulder as she examined the corpse.
-----------
Funny... works for me using an incognito browser window. Anyone else have similar issues?
That's one fine roll... well, you have no idea about the cause of death, but you'll note the following:
- the body's face is quite smashed in (thus the cloth over it, for decency's sake)
- the clothes reek of wine, quite badly since it's been soaking in the fabric for half a day now
- there is a small (a couple coin's width) strip of skin missing from just below the heart on the body's chest, neatly flensed
- there is a small wound at the back of the body's neck, at the base of the skull, but very little blood staining the flesh or hair
That's one fine roll... well, you have no idea about the cause of death, but you'll note the following:
- the body's face is quite smashed in (thus the cloth over it, for decency's sake)
- the clothes reek of wine, quite badly since it's been soaking in the fabric for half a day now
- there is a small (a couple coin's width) strip of skin missing from just below the heart on the body's chest, neatly flensed
- there is a small wound at the back of the body's neck, at the base of the skull, but very little blood staining the flesh or hair
OOC: Just assume that Sebastian's points these things out so others can refer (react, make assumptions as to cause, etc.) to them in their posts.
As the verbose priest sermonized at them, Alua felt her patience slipping away. It always riled her when those who lived safely in the confines of their faith felt the need to pass judgement on the dead.
Slipping in when the priest paused for breath, she said, "But what's your opinion of the letter written by the monk who sheltered Tira Miron during her journey? He claimed..." she tried to frame the controversial topic as diplomatically as she could; after all, there was no point in aggravating the man, but on the other hand, there was no reason not to try to reason with him as well.
Action 3
Alua nodded to Sebastian, and closed her eyes. Spirits, guide me, help me learn what I must to bring justice for this man. ]
Taking a deep breath, Alua began slowly. She removed the cloth, and studied the face, the broken teeth, and checked the skull for evidence of other trauma. The oracle removed his clothes carefully, examining them for blood, wine, flour, or other substances. She passed each item to Daen, so he could go over it as well. When the art dealer was naked, she painstakingly examined finger and toe, hands and feet, arms and legs, palpated his abdomen, and looked for wounds, bruises, or other clues. "Do you want some blood to analyze?" she asked Daen.
*Chuckle* Just about right, with those wonderful rolls ;^) Thank you for that!
Slipping in when the priest paused for breath, she said, "But what's your opinion of the letter written by the monk who sheltered Tira Miron during her journey? He claimed..." she tried to frame the controversial topic as diplomatically as she could; after all, there was no point in aggravating the man, but on the other hand, there was no reason not to try to reason with him as well.
"You are referring to the confession that the woman who would become the Voice of the Flame knew doubt before what she knew had to be a fateful confrontation with Bel Shanor?" the priest asked, intrigued, making the sign of the Flame as he uttered the name of the fiendish Overlord who Tira Miron had given her life to contain. "Ah, but at that time she was still a mortal, a follower of a lesser deity even, and had not had all the imperfections purged of herself by the birth of the Silver Flame. Surely, it follows that..." the priest launched into this new track provided to him, his original sermon forgotten in favor of light religious debate with someone who seemed to have at least a passing knowledge of the subject.
That is a mighty fine roll there... in addition to Sebastian's observations, you can add the following (please make a post about your findings when you have a moment):
- the stab wound at the base of skull was the cause of death, made with a thin, slightly curved blade. Instantly lethal, from what you can tell - either a lucky blow or the killer really knew what they were doing. The wound didn't bleed much, and perhaps the killer did some tidying up - without telltale blood stains, the wound was easy enough to miss as it was hidden by hair
- no defensive wounds that you can see - the victim didn't fight back, or didn't have an opportunity to
- no sign of flour on the clothes
- the piece of skin was removed after death (I have NO IDEA how you could possibly determine that with medieval medical tech, since it wasn't removed like hours after the fact, but the adventure says you can with a good roll so let's go with that this time...)
There was little that Alua would be able to learn from the poor man's face - any evidence would have been smashed in the fall. However, as she felt around his head and neck, her sensitive fingers noticed something. With Erix's help, she flipped the man over, and combed through his hair with her fingers.
"Look here," she said, pointing to the wound even as Sebastian noticed the same thing. "This is how he died. A thin blade, a bit curved." She shook her head. "That was either an extremely skilled or extremely lucky blow. Straight in and out. I could have missed it, with all this hair. Might have if he'd landed on his back."
Continuing her examination, she conjectured, "He might not have seen it coming. There's nothing on his hands, or under his nails, or on his knees - he didn't struggle. Either he didn't know the killer was there, or he trusted them. Or there was magic involved."
Looking back at the clothes, Alua added, "Not enough blood. But there's so much wine, it's hard to tell. Maybe the killer cleaned up a bit. No sign of the flour either. So maybe that's our best clue. Is the killer a baker?"
"What's that?" Sebastian asked, pointing to a strange wound on the man's chest, after they'd flipped him back over.
Alua shook her head. "Weird. This strip was cut off. It's really tidy and precise. No reason for it. Somebody, the killer, must have wanted it." She imagined a bloody hand flensing the skin, and shuddered. "Not fatal, but really painful. No way he wouldn't have struggled. I'll bet this happened after he died. But before he hit the ground."
Having exhausted her knowledge of the human body, she replaced the linen over his ruined face, then bowed her head, and said a silent prayer that the man would find peace (and not follow her around). Stepping back from the body, she said, "I don't think I can learn anything else from him. Poor man."
Action 1:
But, indeed, let me know what you need and I should be
able to provide it at cost.
Phin grinned, "What I need is quite a long list so how about we start with what you can provide. But I'd be particularly interested in anything that helps with movement or stealth."
Action 2:
Phin snickered at the grand revelation that the powder was flour. "I'll never understand the rich. And if the powder was courtesy of our killer then that is also baffling. It's not like people walk around with flour. Although it could be useful in revealing something invisible, I guess."
Action 3:
As soon as Magnulin started his incessant spiritual lecturing, Phin slipped to the back of the group and hummed softly to herself as a means of blocking out most of what was said.
Upon arrival at the body, Phin knew she wouldn't be of much help with the body. She let the others, and by others she meant Alua, examine the body while she perched on one of the empty stone slabs and kept an eye on the door.
Erix approached the temple cautiously, careful to shadow Daen. 'Hard to spot one missing shadow in a crowd...' "Not quite sure I got what that red powder you had was for. Were you hoping to infer Carnyl's reac... oh, we're here. 'Nother time."
He'd checked, and holy ground hadn't hurt him afterwards, so he was pretty sure he wouldn't catch fire. 'That flame though. Single point light. Almost like it was designed to show shadows.' he almost stopped 'Maybe it was. Who in the..' he hesitated to blaspheme even internally in a temple and skipped on 'could I ask about that?'
The body, conversely, was fine. Not 'fine' fine, but he'd seen death before. He volunteered to hold a secondary light source for Alua, careful to make sure it was as directly overhead as possible.
Quite a few unknown factors there... the victim might have been napping on the divan, or perhaps he had already medicated himself with most of the wine bottle's content. Both would make it much easier to sneak up on him, possibly even trivial, since the door was even open. But were he either is an unknown. The single-hit-instant-kill stab certainly suggest skill rather than luck to you, as someone who didn't have the skills would likely have aimed at some softer and still lethal spot - half an inch too high the the blade would have hit the skull, after all, and while that might still have resulted in death, it also might have deflected the blade up.
As to such an assassination pointing a hand at any given criminal organization... sorry, no luck there. I assume you could name at least a couple organizations and likely more military (perhaps mercenary now that the War is over) outfits that have the reputation for quick, clean hits, but why would any of them be targeting this seemingly innocent art dealer?
Daen moved forward to help examine the body and collect any specimens that they might need in the variety of vials he had sewn into his heavy shirt. Sebastian had already pointed out a few of his observations, and that made Daen's work easy. He quickly began examining the dead man's wounds to determine if any of it could be the work of the servants of the Flame or possibly a site where an alchemical agent had been introduced to the deceased.
"My money's on skilled, rather than lucky. A trained fighter will tend to go for a safer strike, rather than that close to the skull. Plenty of places just as lethal. An untrained fighter would either hesitate from shock, or strike multiple times if furious. This looks like an expert." Erix shakes his head "Someone good enough to get close, confident enough in their skill to go for a difficult to hit spot, experienced enough to choose it." He peers closer "They did choose it, I reckon. Good spot. Mark wont yell out and it'll be hard to spot. Easier to make it look like a suicide. Good news for us, then.""
Erix pauses, struck by a thought "Alua, Can you write down where on the head it is, what the angle is, maybe..." he grimaces "how deep it is? We might not be able to do throw a body onto a bridge, but we can take turns stabbing stuff."
"Now. Someone goes to all this work to make it look like a suicide, why take a souvenir? Could be proof - but easy enough to get that elseways. Could be magic reasons - anything could be for magic reasons. Could be our killer's a souvenir taker - in which case we should find out if there are other bodies found missing bits. Could be an accident - Alua, can you see if it looks deliberate, even like? Do you think you can tell if it is the same blade?"
Erix's mind went to dark places "Strip like that is going to drip. Could have been the flour was supposed to soak up the blood. Could be the killer's planning on doing a fry-up."
Phin piped up from where she waited, "Considering I can smell the soured wine from here and considering where I found the blood on the balcony, I would suspect that our art dealer was maybe a little too relaxed from drinking some wine and the killer got the drop on him. If you know what you're doing, it wouldn't have been too difficult."
Her brow wrinkled in disgust at the mention of the removal of skin, "Maybe he had some marking on his chest that the killer felt compelled to remove for some reason. Obviously not to prevent identification but maybe for some other reason. Is there magic that you need something like skin for? Maybe someone is planning on impersonating him or something using magic? It's an odd trophy to say the least."
The rogue made an exaggerated gagging sound at Erix's last comment, "I hope you aren't suggesting it was taken for a midnight snack, are you?"
He quickly began examining the dead man's wounds to determine if any of it could be the work of the servants of the Flame or possibly a site where an alchemical agent had been introduced to the deceased.
You find no skin residue/discoloration/other anomalies that would suggest the man had been drugged or been otherwise affected with alchemics, but I’d imagine you’d pretty much need to open up the corpse to examine the internal organs in a lab to properly determine if he had been affected with something. Not every compound would leave external marks. Feels a bit overkill, though, considering the one-hit-kill stab, unless the opportunity was gained by spiking his wine beforehand…
The rogue made an exaggerated gagging sound at Erix's last comment, "I hope you aren't suggesting it was taken for a midnight snack, are you?"
Sebastian was almost as shocked as Phin was, "No, he doesn't mean that."
Not wanting to give up any avenue of investigation, he looked at Erix, "You don't mean that, do you? It's just your way of lightening up the situation, right?"
He turned to Alua, "Please make sure you have everything written down. This corpse will be ashes as soon as we leave here."
He added, "Unless there's something else here, let's reconvene at the office and go over our clues and conjectures before visiting our eyewitness later this evening."
"You never fought Gnolls?" Erix asked darkly. Memories long repressed struggled up, and he took a breath, switching to levity. "Yes Phin, I realise you wouldn't see it as too difficult to climb two hundred feet in the air, hide for an indefinite period and take out a target with one perfectly placed, highly concealable strike on the first go. Amongst us poor mortals that is regarded as 'expert' rather than 'knows what they're doing'. Hmmm" Erix started to smile, fighting the urge to ask Phin if she had an alibi, then stopped.
"Maybe he had a tattoo? A unit tattoo, and he disgcraced the unit, maybe? Didn't someone say something about him being in the War?"
Phin always enjoyed bantering with Erix, "Yes my young cub; however there are ways to make things easier. A victim that doesn't lock his door takes the climb out of the equation. Putting something in the wine to dull the man's senses ensures he doesn't struggle when you stab him."
The rogue stopped speaking suddenly and shook her head, "I knew I should have taken the wine. Although if someone did put something in it, I'm glad I never drunk it." She looked at Sebastian, "Maybe we can swing by the apartment and retrieve it on the way to see the eyewitness so that Daen can analyze it back at the office."
Phin shrugged at Erix's last comment, "I can't remember but I'm not the one who's been taking notes. But you do bring up a good point...we need to find out more about our art dealer. Maybe speak to some of his friends or business acquaintances?"
Erix scratched at the greying stubble on his chin "I just can't imagine someone not locking their door. I mean, this is Sharn! The man's a merchant!"
Alrighto, in that case I'll see if I have the time to wrap this turn tomorrow and take you back to your office for some planning, and perhaps lunch - it'll be past midday before you can make your way back there.
Daryl paused in the doorway of the church, staring up at its spires and windows. He could sense the artistry in them, and…something else. It was as if they almost glowed with religious zeal. The faith of the artisan was evident in each pane…except one. This one was no less elaborate, its themes no less pious, but there was something different about it. Something…subversive.
It was Daryl’s favorite.
The others had already passed inside and were being introduced to the Caretaker, as he was described. A man that looked down his nose at everything, his garments were subtly accented with highlights of wealth. The gold strands in his cloak were real gold, not just colored fabric. The material was exotic and rare, though to the untrained eye it might not appear so. The hem was perfectly straight, and the fit was obviously tailored for the man. He would appear well dressed to the masses, but to the wealthy and those that cared about status, the signal was clear: This is a person of wealth and the power that came along with it.
The moment Daryl stepped inside, he felt a smell whisk past him. He stopped for a moment, swaying slightly. His body trembled; a sensation unfamiliar to the warforged washing over him. His head cocked to the side slightly as he took in the scene. The Caretaker was walking and talking, the others following. Daryl found himself doing the same.
As soon as Magnulin started his incessant spiritual lecturing, Phin slipped to the back of the group and hummed softly to herself as a means of blocking out most of what was said.
Daryl’s head spun, the images in the windows glaring down at him. They hummed at him, a tune he didn’t recognize. It was more melodic than anything he could create. They created the tune as one, a singular creature all mocking him…judging him. The tune echoed in his head, distorting, amplifying. It was more than the ‘forged could take.
.let us see what this doeS
Daryl stopped, frozen. He wanted to flee, every fiber of his being screaming at him to flee. To seek an exit. This place was…wrong. Dangerous! He’d been here before. Many times? So many times. He had to escape! He could let him...
The humming stopped. The group was only a few steps ahead, but Phin had stopped and was looking back at him. She had been the source of the humming? Daryl glanced back up at the windows. They were…he couldn’t look at them any longer. He lowered his gaze to the half-elf.
”I…” the warforged paused, “What was that song you were humming?”
Each of these companions was so different, none so much as Phin. To Daryl’s eyes, nothing about Phin made sense. She was taller than him but at least half his weight. Every movement a graceful dance. She didn’t pick up a cup, she wrapped it in her hand and lifted it in a single motion. She didn’t sit, she lowered herself into a pose as flattering as any of the painted works he appraised. Every time she moved it was if it were choreographed and planned out beforehand.
Daryl was as far from graceful as a creature could get. He wasn’t jealous. But watching her move always made him feel something. Wistful? The Warforged wasn't sure.
Daryl turned away from Phin, “I do not…” again the Warforged paused, something stopping him from completing his thought. After a moment, all he could manage was, “wish to stay here much longer.”
Erix scratched at the greying stubble on his chin "I just can't imagine someone not locking their door. I mean, this is Sharn! The man's a merchant!"
Phin crossed her legs and leaned forward on her perch, It is quite possible that my eyes are failing me in my old age but from what I saw that lock wasn't used much. The rich are a peculiar lot. Maybe he figured that everyone was his friend or that he lived in a place too safe to require locks." She shrugged, "Who knows. That's why we need to talk to those who knew him."
The rogue grinned knowingly, "But one thing is certain, he's lucky I never found out about his place and that art is hard to fence."
”I…” the warforged paused, “What was that song you were humming?”
Phin's cheeks colored every so slightly. She couldn't tell from Daryl's question if he liked or was annoyed by her humming. "It's a song that one commonly hears in most taverns around Sharn. It's called The Wolf and the Maiden. Humming is something I do to block out irksome situations. I'm sorry if it disturbed you."
Daryl turned away from Phin, “I do not…” again the Warforged paused, something stopping him from completing his thought. After a moment, all he could manage was, “wish to stay here much longer.”
Phin gave the 'forged a sympathetic smile, "Not everyone is comfortable in the dark or with the dead. If it's any consolation, I think they're almost finished examining the body and then we can leave and get back to the office. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make it more bearable for you down here?"
Phin's cheeks colored every so slightly. She couldn't tell from Daryl's question if he liked or was annoyed by her humming. "It's a song that one commonly hears in most taverns around Sharn. It's called The Wolf and the Maiden. Humming is something I do to block out irksome situations. I'm sorry if it disturbed you."
”Irksome. You are irked.” The ‘forged’s voice was louder than Phin would have liked. The metal head turned toward her, the glowing purple eyes trained on her. “I am disturbed.”
“Excuse me?” the elf was surprised by the revelation.
”Correction,” the ‘forged continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “I am undisturbed. I am…” the Warforged seemed to glance up at the windows before quickly lowering his gaze back to hers.
“You are?” the elf prompted.
If Daryl could swallow, he would. Every joint, every plate of his being seemed dry and filled with sand. He worked his jaw for a moment, surprised that it didn’t sound like walking on a field of river-smoothed rocks.
“Fine.”
The elf raised a brow. Daryl quickly caught up to Phin and the group. “I did not recognize that song,” the Warforged lied. “You hum it well.”
Phin gave the 'forged a sympathetic smile, "Not everyone is comfortable in the dark or with the dead. If it's any consolation, I think they're almost finished examining the body and then we can leave and get back to the office. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make it more bearable for you down here?"
Daryl glanced toward the others doting over the body. Meat. They were all meat. He was not. Compared to him, they were delicate flowers facing the hurricane of time. His body was different. With the proper maintenance, he was effectively immortal. Would he look the same a hundred years from now? Would any of his original parts remain? Did it matter? Was he a sum of his parts or was there something under the metal, wood, and other parts that was his core?
“Do you have a soul?”
The question popped out of his mouth before the thought had completely formed in his mind. He realized he had been looking at his hands. He raised his head to the elf, towering over him with that effortless grace of hers. But that wasn’t his real question, was it? No, there was another in his mind, one that he couldn’t voice. Not even to himself.
Alua wiped her hands carefully, then sketched what she'd found in her notebook, and labelled everything carefully.
Oh, I like our Warforged - dunno what it is about them, but they do tend to turn out rather interesting, if past and current games are anything to judge by ;^)
Turn 005 - Do you have a soul?
Game on!
[dice=heal?]1d20+5
Umm... the stab would is easier to categorize since it's deep - you can see it's thin, and there is a curse to the blade. The flensing, however, is strictly skin deep, and could be done with pretty much anything sharp. Pretty much impossible to know if the blade that did that was straight or curved, I think, but only a little bit of flesh was removed with the skin, so at least the tool was wickedly sharp - no signs of tearing either, just clean cuts.
Now back at the office, Sebastian sat at the head of the table in the conference room, propped his feet, and scratched his chin.
"Alright everyone, this is it. There is no doubt that this is a murder but we have yet to establish motive, much less have an idea of the killer."
He turned to Erix and Phin, "Are we fairly certain that this was a professional? Anything else with the patch of skin that was missing?
Was that a memento or did the killer remove some sort of ID? Can we research this man to see if he belonged to a particular group?
tag?
He raised his hands at Alua and Daen, "And that was flour that we found at the apartment, yes? Is it worth getting the wine and testing it?"
tag?
"Daryl, you are fairly certain that whoever did this was not interested in money, right? He or she or it did leave valuables in the apartment, right?"
tag?
He then opened it up for anyone, "Alright, people. Talk to me. Any thoughts so far?"
Before Watchman Roole left, Alua asked, "Do you have a list of his family and friends? Sebastian will probably want to talk to them too." If they wanted to learn about tattoos, weird marks, and leaving the door unlocked, they'd need people who knew the man.
Turning to her boss, she said, "Should we talk to the neighbours too?"
Action 1:
Do you have a soul?
Phin half choked, half coughed in surprise at Daryl's question. Try as she might, she couldn't make sense of how the conversation got from 'what song are you humming' to 'do you have a soul'. She recovered quickly and gave him a wry grin, "I guess that depends on who you ask. Some have told me that I have no soul while others concede that I have a soul but that it's pitch black. Why do you ask?"
tag Daryl
Action 3:
"Are we fairly certain that this was a professional?
Phin nodded, "It's not easy to kill someone with one blow and the fact that the stab wound was hidden in the hair suggests the killer was hoping the real cause of death would be obscured by the fall. That suggests someone with some experience. I don't think anyone is that lucky."
The rogue looked thoughtful, "As to whether he belonged to some sort of group, I think talking with friends or acquaintances may shed some light on that. If we can find out what was removed then we can ask around about him belonging to a particular group."
Before Watchman Roole left, Alua asked, "Do you have a list of his family and friends? Sebastian will probably want to talk to them too." If they wanted to learn about tattoos, weird marks, and leaving the door unlocked, they'd need people who knew the man.
"I'm afraid not," Roole replied, shaking his head. "As Sarge told you, no-one came to claim the body, so the deceased didn’t have any close friends or relatives, at least in the City. His death caused quite the stir in the district, so I’d assume if there was one, he or she’d have heard about it already. Or perhaps they did hear and chose to do nothing – could be there was bad blood between the deceased and his kin.”
”I’d suggest you ask at the Bluebird Inn if you go meet with the witness in the evening – Mr. Pendrong’s place is quite the gathering spot for the people. If there’s any single place to find someone who knows someone in Oakbridge, that’s the one.”