Brix stumbled drunkenly from the bar into the rain. The distant rumble of thunder greeted her like an old friend. Even amidst her drunken haze, she confidently walked back to her hovel with all the grace and poise of a court dancer that had drunk as much ale as she had. Stepping out of the tavern lights that colored the cobblestones orange, she slunk into the darkness of the alleyways of Castow, her fingers tracing lines in the stone buildings she walked beside. Soon her fingers ran across a jagged crack in the wall, and she began to count her steps. One, two, three, and then a recess in the broken pathway, thigh-deep and perpetually full of rainwater.
She took the first step and congratulated herself for her ingenuity. She took the second step and congratulated herself for not forgetting about the puddle. She took her third step and tripped over something heavy, landing directly in the large puddle. The water was thick and murky, full of the grime and refuse of the slums, and Brix swore loudly. She stood up and kicked whatever it was that she had tripped over, before angrily returning home. She wiped her face and arms with a rag, took off her wet clothes, and promptly passed out.
The next morning, she found her hands not caked with grime and dirt, but with a dark red residue. Walking outside, she found next to the puddle a thick half-orc, face down on the stones.
"Are you alright?" she called out. She nudged the man with her foot and he didn't move. She turned the body over and found his clothes cut apart and dyed red, his torso perforated with wounds, and his eyes missing. She dropped him and screamed.
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"You got a job," Reed said. He was tall and had a thick beard. He carried a greatsword on his back, and a smaller sword by his waist. He was overall very imposing, so when he spoke, people listened. The other reason people listened to him was the fact that he was their boss.
He gathered up the available Wardens--there were four of them at the moment not currently engaged with another assignment. The four of them--Marceline, Rokthar, Aiolos, and Effie--followed Reed into a briefing room, where they saw before them a a plump man with ruddy cheeks, dressed in fine silks and linens. He was as nervous as he was rotund.
"Tell them what you told me," Reed said. Then he left. He was a busy man. He had things to do elsewhere, like run a company of mercenaries--which involved a lot more book work than one might think.
The fat man looked lost as Reed left. The four before him certainly didn't give off the same feeling of security that Reed did. Sure, one was at least as large as the captain, but he was quite terrifying in appearance. The others were even worse. Yes, the fat man truly regretted his circumstances, which left him with little more than a demon and his troupe of little girls, and little men with girlish figures. But he was strong; he would persevere.
"H-hello there. My name is Ames, and I come here representing Lord Havi Heinrison," the plump man said. His voice, like his face, was very greasy. "Lord Heinrison owns most of the taverns here in Castow, and has recently come under duress. You see, many of his most loyal customers are dying. Rather, being killed. So far, there have been six bodies found in the past two weeks, all of which were regulars at his establishments. He is offering 5000 gold pieces to your... organization if you can solve these murders, and... dispose of the one responsible."
Ames spent a few moments describing the victims: a portly half-orc man that worked as a blacksmith, an elven woman who delivered flowers, two human men that worked as cobblers, a halfling man that didn't work at all, and a gnome woman that worked as a cook in a local restaurant. There were only two common details between all of them, as far as Ames and Lord Heinrison's men could tell: they all frequented Lord Heinrison's establishments, and they were all found with their eyes missing.
The four wardens were left with two leads: a trail leading to the Cymith Wood that disappears just a few feet into the forest, and a woman named Brix, who after stumbling into the body of a half-orc narrowly escaped her own death at the hands of her would-be assailants.
Cymith Wood
Going to Cymith Wood is not a difficult task, but it is one that involves a hell of a lot of mud. The rain-soaked paths suck at the feet of travelers, as though they were trying to pull them under. And it is for this very reason that a pair of footprints could be followed from Castow to the forest. This was not in itself a strange thing, but the woods themselves are no different from the pathway leading to them--thick with mud, animal tracks could be followed for many days before the rain washed them away. And yet, these tracks--these very distinctly humanoid tracks--seemed to vanish into nothing but a few steps into the forest.
Castow--Lord Havi Heinrison's Manor
Lord Heinrison was not what one would call a magnanimous person, but there was certainly one thing which he would not abide: a poor reputation. And what his taverns were currently building was exactly that. Something had to be done, and ideally by some other person that he could throw money at. In the interim, he did what little he could to abate the community's growing dissatisfaction with him, and that involved housing a woman in mortal peril. A dainty human woman, whose hands were calloused to such an extent that most people would rescind their use of the word dainty, named Brix was currently holed up here, and her heretofore intense horror at the state of affairs that was her current life had changed to intense wonder at the life of the rich and pompous. She received meals for free the likes of which she had never dreamed of eating. She could bathe every day--in warm water! It was quite wonderful.
OOC
Edited by Johnny Paradise, 29 June 2016 - 09:28 AM.