Inquirers in Black

[Genth]

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http://orig11.deviantart.net/006b/f/2011/008/d/3/swamp_fever_by_andreewallin-d36oonx.jpg

Well, it sure isn't the prettiest place in Golarion. In fact, it's probably the ugliest place in Varisia at least. Except for that one tavern on the road out from Korvosa, to be fair. It's got an official name - Nallas - but to the residents, and to the man driving the barge carrying the two black-clad people, it's Swampville. Decent size, despite the godawful smell, about 1,000 people live in this town on the Yondabakari, where the river becomes indistinguishable from the sodden marshes. It exists as a sort of halfway house for those piloting barges or boats down to Magnimar, and many of the town's residents are 'shovels', burly workers who, with spades and elbow grease cut out and maintain a decent channel for boats. Despite the can't be mentioned enough stench of the place, and the overall terrible quality of the housing. No, nothing else to mention. Really, there's no positives about this place. Well, there are three decent not too shabby - there are three taverns there. And this is where Martyn and Siskrit have been sent.

According to the tightly rolled and sealed orders that were delivered to Martyn two weeks ago in Thrushmoore, there have been a spate of unusual, and particularly grizzly killings in Swampsville over the past two months. People found, bodies torn apart and yet with no blood on the soil. The local guard is flummoxed, and in truth, not giving much of an honest try by all accounts - the swamps are dangerous, and technically speaking outside of his jurisdiction. The reports he's made to the Justice back in Magnimar however caught the eye of the Bureau. And so here the pair are, sent into the smelliest place in Varisia to figure out a mystery.

After paying off the bargeman to let you off in the town, you are told to make for the Bargeman's Pole, an imaginatively named tavern that you're relatively sure the bargeman was paid to mention. Once you arrive outside it, from the tavern's painted sign, you can see that the name was slightly more imaginative than you might have originally thought. Coarse humor aside, within the tavern is relatively dry and much less offensive smelling than the rest of it, although that's probably got more to do with the smell of woodsmoke coming from the fireplace than anything else. It is relatively empty today, a few old men in one dark corner playing a board-game, and the barman with the correct uniform - cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. He informs you that a room is a gold piece per night, space in the sleeping hall above the fireplace is 2 silver. Food not included.

[CoconutKing]

Siskrit

Customary to the clinical holding cells and rooms of the Bureau was a strange, if reassuring of cleanliness, odor of some form of commonly (ab-)used disinfectant that would consistently be used in every routine cleaning of the headquarters. It's bleach like strength would wither quickly from the air all around, but the component that filled the air permanently with the sickeningly sweet, chemical smell that would one day further inhabit the halls of hospitals as well... was Angel's Bonnet. This odor was all Siskret had really known in the brief timespan of her "education" with the Bureau after her crashlandings on the planet for the longest time, at least until she was allowed to leave and was received by her partner (who now shared a physical spot to her side in their entry to the village). Even then, Ustalav rarely committed itself to any real odor to give her a sense of disgust, other than the occasional appearances of the now hated smell of post-rain grass and usually short-lived sewage. Really, her entire life had consisted of olfactory experiences of sterility, really, and she had been given little exposure to the realms of the more abominable smells.

Thus, when they finally arrived at the outskirts of the village, and Martyn motioned to her for her to revert into a more human form by concealing the flamestorm above her that happened to be the true form of her hair, she finally experienced true disgust at the hands of the land. Without the flaming consumption to assist her by having produced its own, more natural (to her) odor to drown out the actual smell, she was overwhelmed almost immediately. What followed was a full ten minutes of a halt, as Siskrit struggled to prevent herself from bringing up the contents of her last "meal", gagging and choking from the sudden influx of never before experienced smells. Even after the brunt of her outburst was contained, and the pair were able to make their way into the village, Siskrit was unable to truly recover her sense of bearing, and thus allowed herself to lapse into a rarely known state of silence. Instead, she clasped her smooth, dark brown hands together in front of her legs, standing besides and behind Martyn as they entered the tavern, finally relieved from the oppressive gauntlet of the nose that she had just endured.

Would never have called myself privileged before this... she thought, her words echoing within the roaring crackles of the sounds that made up her mind's contemplation.

[Hattish Thing]

Town of Nallas:

From beneath a wide-brimmed black leather hat set with a dull badge, the ominous investigator glances towards the barkeep while still keeping his far more youthful-looking partner within range of his peripheral vision. The pale-looking agent stares down at the man as he moves closer, his expression unreadable. Untidy locks of well-groomed, prematurely-graying brown hair falls over his unhealthily pale forehead, while almond-shaped eyes of cold and calculating pale green peer out at the world from behind his ornate spectacles of silvery siccatite and brilliant white porcelain. His unhealthily pale skin is perfect and unblemished, however, many late nights spent without suitable rest have caused dark circles to manifest beneath the man's prying, bird-like eyes. In addition to his sunken, and uncomfortably focused pale green eyes, the Bureau Agent possesses a large, hooked nose and curling lips seemingly permanently set to scowl in a nervous sort of fashion. Several small lacerations upon the man's chin suggest that he recently shaved.

Despite the average-looking man's relatively unremarkable physical appearance, his equipment and garb radiate an aura of palpable threat. The agent is clad in a long, threadbare black leather greatcoat, tattered and torn, decorated by dull lines of faded gold trim. The man's right hand is covered entirely in a thick black leather gauntlet, flanked by tubes of curious alchemical fluid, causing the hand to almost appear mechanical. Beneath his tattered greatcoat, the agent wears a black undershirt beneath a frayed vest of a matching shade, decorated with complicated designs. Several straps can be seen built into the man's dark belt, a number of curious alchemical items held within black pouches.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, the man licks his lips, setting down a dull silver badge upon the table alongside several platinum pieces before mumbling to the barkeep, his voice little more than a whisper.

"T-the murders. Tell m-me more."

[Genth]

"Look, I be tellin' yeh what I tol' Peter. Gus and Lana were 'jes arguin about t'pay from las- oh." the Barman begins to say, before he glances down at your badge and the platinum piece. "You 'aint here about Gus wakin' up with a shovel in his gut, are ye?" he adds, grimacing before placing the glass down and leaning on the table, looking at the platinum for a few moments before grabbing them. "You big city guards often have t'bribe people to get 'em to help? Crime mus' be terrible in Magnimar. Not that I'm complainin'." he continues, grinning as he pockets the money. "So it's about those weird attacks? Wouldn't call 'em murders, prob'ly just some beast or summat gnawing on 'em. But the blood thing's weird, I'll grant you. Last one only 'appened a day ago, found a barger and a 'pothc'ry about an hour's south, obviously lookin' fer med'cine when whatever it is attacked 'em"

[Hattish Thing]

Town of Nallas:

Martyn clasps his hands together calmly, his expression souring as the barkeep continues to speak. Slowly, it changes from one of relative neutrality to a subtle grimace, the lines flanking his mouth becoming clearer as his eyes narrow slightly, his nose flaring at an angle. Subtle movements which, isolated, would fail to signal any sort of emotion, yet, all at once, painted a clear picture.

The investigator twitches noticeably, his gloved hand curling into a fist as he frowns, shaking his head and muttering quietly.

"N-no, no. N-no."

--

Still grimacing, Martyn makes eye contact with the barkeep from beneath his wide-brimmed hat, gazing forward with unsettling intensity, never blinking. The investigator clears his throat a little bit before drawing a little closer and resting his uncovered hand upon the bar.

He speaks, his voice quiet, devoid of emotion or tone. "Looking f-for medicine? C-could you explain further?"

[Genth]

The barkeep pulls back slightly, staring at Martyn with a worried look. One hand slips beneath the bar and there is the soft thunk of wood bumping against wood, but no weapon is drawn out. He seems about to ask if Martyn is ok before the strange man replies and asks another question. "It's pretty common. There be a lot'o plants and stuff out in the swamp that's got curative properties. We get the 'poth'cries 'round here quite off'n, lookin' for plants and stuff. Plen'y of bargers make their coin movin' em around. Though prices're probably gonna go up 'fer the next one"

[CoconutKing]

Siskrit

The ebony skinned woman next to the oddly stuttering "detective" kept her eyes off the barman, spending a majority of their time taking in every movement and action of the investigator with great interest. This was further characterized by a consistent rhythm of looking around, absorbing the appearance of the tavern with just as much curiosity as the amount she held for Martyn. In fact, watching the man get down to work was just as much of a distraction to her immediate perils of nausea as anything could've been. Her personality was usually all over the place, and her attention was difficult to keep, but this man was whom she was told she would be to emulate for much of the rest of her life, and with little other choices in her mind, it seemed appealing to care about his method. She felt as though she was aware of what to enter the conversation with, yet the almost browbeating manner with which Martyn proceeded with the investigation made her pause. Especially the arm.

Hells with it.

"Anything like this ever happen before? Any history to that patch of... swamp? You know, the stories about Shoanti burial grounds are true, anything like that?"

[Genth]

With a jump, the barman turns to Siskrit - evidently in Martyn's... intense questioning, he forgot she was there. He smiles for a moment, clearly liking this view much more than the previous one, but he shrugs and shakes his head. "Can't be sayin' I know of any hist'ry. The attacks started happ'nin bout two months back, must be what, six people by now?" he pauses, and gives a laugh. "Must make this place soun' terrible, but the swamp's dan'grus anyway. 'jes the blood thing that's weird. But no. 'taint no graveyard or nothin' round those parts."

[Hattish Thing]

Martyn:

The investigator frowns deeply, absentmindedly digging his nails into the wooden counter as he leans forward again. He pauses there, staring directly towards the barkeep, his pale green eyes flickering in he lantern-light. After several seconds, Martyn speaks once more, his voice little more than an intense, monotonous whisper, "I s-see."

"The v-victims, their c-corpses. Where c-can they be f-found?"

[Genth]

One can almost see the resignation in the barman's eyes as he, against his better judgement, turns back to Martyn. Most of 'em shipped back down the river to Magnimar. The two most recen' ones, might still be in Peter's wee coldbox. He keeps most people th't be dyin' round here. If y'don't store yeh corpses pretty quick, the swamp'll turn 'em nasty." he adds, giving a long, leering grin.

[CoconutKing]

Recognizing this enthusiasm to face her as yet another concept of attraction she'd grown to recognize well among her "peers", she felt some odd combination of pride and questioning, as she usually did when faced with that idea. For all she was aware, she was far from normal, and most certainly being described as an "anomaly" for half her memorable life had left her questioning why anyone would appreciate a form such as her's. But, that was not hers to question, but rather to take advantage of. Still, something about his leering grin put a crack in her practical and manipulative thoughts, forcing her to raise one well defined eyebrow in response to the unpleasant grin. "...Understandable. Say, these corpses, anyone other than this Peter chap work with 'em? Doubt we're talking about freakshow obsessors of the dead, but who found and brought these bodies to the town?"

[Genth]

The barman thinks for a bit. "Dunno. 'aint heard of nothin', but I imagine Peter'd have some help draggin' the bodies back. s'not a detail most people think 'bout. From what I 'erd, bodies were found by the barger's mate who went out lookin'."

[Hattish Thing]

Martyn:

With a few involuntary twitches, the investigator nods quietly before retrieving a small black notebook from within his coat. The man scribbles down several notes and potential leads before pocketing the notebook once again and looking over the others within the tavern, purely by instinct.

He makes a mental note of the appearances of those within before muttering a final request to the barkeep.

"T-this man, Peter, w-where could we f-find him?"

--

Once an answer is given, Martyn leaves, wordlessly.

[Genth]

Sur'be cann'n the Barman replies, reaching out to grab the glass and resume his cleaning. Us'ly ee's at t'city office. 's like a one-stop-shop 'fer e'ryting that Magnimar deals with. Y'go down the street till y'find the building with the great big flag on it. he explains, before turning to Siskrit and winking. "Come back 'afore the night now. I'll have a nice bowl'o food made up special fer ye, lass."

------------------------

It doesn't take long for the pair of you to find the City Office. For one, it's one of the few buildings not covered in dirt and mud. For another, it has, as the barman said, a large blue, white and gold flag outside, depicting the symbols of Magnimar. Within, there seems to be several rooms off a short corridor, each with a helpful sign above each one - Customs | Inquiries | Shoanti Bureau | Guard | Guilds

The door to the 'Guard' room opens onto a simple-looking, but efficiently clean office. A large, walnut desk in one corner, behind which sits a bald, somewhat heavy-set man, although beneath the slight fat his strength is clearly visible, and the leather jacket he wears looks like it could withstand at least a few blows - certainly a shifty knife to the back. He looks up. "Can I help you, sir, ma'am? I am a bit busy, so unless it's a crime...." he says, trailing off as he looks the pair of you up and down, a tired glint in his eyes.

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[CoconutKing]

Siskrit

"Thanks." came the response out of the girl, which seemed only a touch out of neutral in tone, before she turned around, leaving with the investigator.

---

Though still quite flustered, visibly so or at least as visibly as "fluster" could appear on the ashy skin of the ifrit, Siskrit was now getting further and further acclimatized. Even though she still muttered under her breath every so often, leasing out statements such as "Should flame on, maybe burn a house for some clearance..." it was apparent that she was now coping far better than when she originally entered the town. To the extent that she'd even smiled at some child kicking another adult in the shins on the way over to the hall. This immediately perked up even further as they entered the cleaner area of the City Office, though the smell wafted throughout nonetheless. So, when addressed by the guard, "Peter", she responded with slightly more enthusiasm and energy than she had talked with back at the tavern. "Oh, it's a crime alright. Crime against nature, that's me, and I'm right here to talk to you about the string of... deaths that's happened. This right here is my.." she trailed off, pausing for a second, before mischievously continuing "partner, Martyn. We're with the Magnimar cops, and the old hock over at the tavern told us to shuffle over here to talk to you about finding out more, and maybe seeing the bodies."

[Genth]

Peter frowns for a few moments, looking between the two of you with a suspicious glare, before shrugging. "You don't look or sound like Guard. But I suppose it doesn't matter too much. Not like anythings a big secret. Show me your badges when you can so I can make a record, but I'm happy to chat and show you the bodies later today. Two hours and I should be free as long as nobody decides to go stabbing"

[Hattish Thing]

Martyn:

As the pair stride through the small town, Martyn places his unclothed hand within his coat pocket, grimacing a little. The investigator retrieves a small pack of Chelish cigarettes, lighting one with a snap of his gloved finger. Martyn pulls the brim of his hat low as he continues to stride through the mud, grimacing as he takes a long drag.

Finally he speaks, his voice low, "You t-talk too much, knock i-it off."

--

Once they arrive, Martyn allows his new partner to speak to the man before merely shaking his head and stepping forward, gently setting his badge down upon an office desk. The investigator clears his throat before licking his lips and drawing close, speaking slowly, his tone neutral, straight to the point.

"New d-department, n-new uniform."

"I'm a-afraid time is of the e-essence, w-we've reason t-to believe that o-our investigation is t-time sensitive. Any w-way to h-hurry this up, officer?"

[Genth]

Peter looks down at the badge for a few moments, head tilted slightly, then nods. "Yeah, that checks out." he says, voice slightly annoyed. He moves out from behind the desk, giving his head a little shake. "It's just the paperwork. Wish the office back in the City'd send me out a scribe. Have a word with them when you get back?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as he walks over to the stairs. "Fair warning, they're not pretty." he says, leading the way down into a cool - magically cool you think - basement, and towards a corner where two bodies are lying on hardwood tables.

He wasn't kidding when he said they weren't pretty. The bodies are barely recognizable, the flesh seemingly torn apart. Wounds that expose bone, organs, all rent wide. The faces seem to be relatively untouched, and the eyes have been respectfully closed, but the scene is still somewhat horrifying. As Peter stands with a grimace, and Siskrit just looks at the bodies, noting that they, as others have said, seem to be far less bloody than they ought, Martyn takes a closer look.


It is more than simply a lack of blood splatter - the organs themselves seem to have been drained of blood. The cold has prevented pooling, to a degree, but even so there seems to be blood within these corpses only just beneath the skin. Unlike with bloodsucking creatures however, there are no puncture wounds. It is almost as if the bodies have been torn open with impossibly sharp claws, and blood simply... drawn away.

With a flash of insight, you realize that you've seen these kinds of wounds described before. An odd aberration, one often mistaken for a vampire in gaseous form or an unusual type of air elemental, the vampiric mist is in fact a strange form of aberrant life. With an amorphous body that consists as much of fluid as it does of air, this creature dwells in swamps or moist underground regions where its vulnerability to heat isn’t as much of a concern. As far as you know, these hasn't been any recording of such creatures in this part of the world.

[CoconutKing]

"Consider it not an issue, friend." Siskret said, confident in her amiability as she followed Peter into the basement. As soon as they got into the room, she shivered, as the chill from the magic (which was odd for such a backwater dump) reached into her core. However, the true chill ran down her spine as they got to the bodies, mangled cadavers that she struggled to define as humanoid from all the rampant tearing. She wasn't used to the gore, since any brawls or fights she'd end up with would usually end up with cauterized casualties in the first place. This was likely why she paid not as much attention to the total lack of blood as she did to the rest of the state the body was in. "Heavens... and the bartender was just taking this so on the nose?"

[Hattish Thing]

Martyn:

With a determined expression upon his face, Martyn takes a closer look at the corpse before him, jotting down notes every few seconds.

"Could y-you take us to the site?"

[Genth]

Peter frowns at Martyn, then shakes his head. "I can give you instructions on how to get out there, but I can't leave town, main shift'll be over in an hour or so and people tend to get rowdy."

[CoconutKing]

"Directions will have to do." blurted out Siskret, obviously impatient with the proceedings. "I don't want something like whatever's causing all this to run on too loose for too long. Quicker we hunt it down, and at the very least find a way to prevent it from killing more, the better."

[Genth]

Peter nods, and explains to you where the attack site was - it's a decent trek out among the swamplands, an hour if you're decent in the wild, but longer if you slip. With that done, he bids you goodbye, a hint of annoyance in his demeanor now - it seems that he had hoped you'd have more than you've shown so far, and is keen on getting back to work.

One Survival check, and... three Dexterity checks please if you're heading out into the swamps.