(( Written in the stylings of 1940s Detective Film Noir, just because it's Rith and it's funny. ))
"Sigil. Where the biggest low-lives of the Planes all congregated into an orchestra of madness. A city rotten with corruption, crime, bureaucracy, and fraud. The kind of place that caused honest people to fall, or to disappear entirely. The kind of place where people who asked too many questions didn't tend to live a long healthy life. I found myself heading into the Hive, a den of desperation and despair. If Sigil was indeed the Cesspool of the cosmos...this is where it went to take a dump.
The streets reeked of a most foul combination of garbage, urine, despair, broken dreams and the exploitation of the people. Every alleyway was a potential mugging, and prostitutes decorated every corner as commonly as light fixtures. Women forced to sell their bodies on the open market like a piece of meat at the slaughter just to make ends meet. The dregs of society, cast aside and forgotten while those of wealth and power strutted around like show dogs showing off their manes to be the center of attention. The kind of dogs that jumped upon scraps of power like ravenous hyenas on a fresh kill.
And here I was, Rith Fiddir, caught up in the mix of it. A man I knew, Nero Urbane, had been murdered. Poisoned, from the looks of it. But that's where the simplicity ends. No body. Clothes neatly folded up, as if he just faded away. Either he was disintegrated while naked...or something was clearly foul.
The crime scene was a bust. The Harmonium had picked it clean. This means that either they had finally grown a brain and actually were doing their jobs right....or somebody was being extra careful to cover something up. Heh. My money was on the latter. Needless to say Sigil was the kind of place where minor things like honor, courage, intellect or dedication were completely unnecessary for joining the local Police Force and carrying a license to bully and harass the common citizen.
Even though the crime scene was a bust, I did manage to pull a name out of all of the pile of Nothing the Harmonium so graciously left me. Muriel was nice enough to drop me a line: "Brom." I was looking for a man named "Brom." Gotta love old Muriel. She was a crazy old bat, but boy did she know how to cook a good meal and give a body enough booze to cure what ailed 'em. After giving me enough bub to kill the average man she so kindly pointed out that Brom was the kind of low-life that really enjoyed bars and houses of Ill-repute. The Bottle and Jug in the Hive fit the bill just fine.
Barl Hogun was an old friend of mine. It was time I paid him a visit. Good ol' Barl was the type of sort that knew what was going on in the Hive. Every shady business deal, every vagabond that came through his neck of the woods didn't come through without his say so or without him knowin'. Seemed like a start to me..."
To be continued..
Investigation into the murder of Nero
-
*kitteninablender
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"So I found my way into the Bottle and Jug. There were dives, and then there was this dump. I was greeted at the door by a Fensir, a really big troll-like creature that didn't bother to pat me down at the door. Some bouncer he was. Of course, his primarily qualifications is that Fensirs spend the majority of their lives living in dank shitholes that reeked of their own refuse. In other words: He was used to similar accomodations.
I sauntered my way up to the bar and took a seat. After the crappy day I'd been through I could use a stiff drink, and the whiskey that they served in this place was among the best. The kind of brew that could be used as a viable substitute for lamp oil. The kind of brew that the down-trodden drank to forget their sorrows. As I sat at the bar, I was approached by a young blonde. Nice curvaceous figure, with a cute smile and big eyelashes.
She proceeded to try the usual pick-ups. She was already inebriated. I could smell the whiskey on her breath and laughed silently to myself as the poor girl was barely able to stand on her own. This was the kind of girl that had a hard life, and was looking to snuggle up next to anything that would take her home for the night. I assume, of course, this is because she had no home of her own. She had the kind of world-weary look about her that she was the type of dame who had to fight for every little thing she had. Most of all, whether it was the john who had just had his way with her...or from life itself...she was used to being used and then kicked to the curve. Just another silent sufferer in this hell of a city. I bought the girl a drink, like any gentleman should, and slipped a pair of coins into her pocket while she was feeling me up. Heh. Perhaps the first coins she had gotten in a long time that didn't involve her taking her clothes off.
The mark I was looking for, this Brom guy, he let his name slip at the bar. Bad move. The Hive was the kind of place that you didn't make your name known except to those you trusted with your life. Because in this place, names were lives. To know the name of a thing is to have power over it...and he had just given me the leverage I needed. This guy was definitely Harmonium, or at least rather he used to be. The smug look of arrogance, the copper-a-dozen haircut and the slacked jaw that advertised he was a man who made his coin off of his ability to shut up and do what he was told rather than any actual brainpower or ambition. I told the man that I was looking for him. He didn't take too kindly to that.
Fortunately for me the guy was as slow as he was stupid. The alcohol in his system certainly didn't do anything to enhance his reflexes or his ability at hand-to-hand. The fight was over before it began. I had to hand it to myself: I could be one of Sigil's deadliest assassins. I just had a very basic rule I followed: No blood unless necessary. Much as I hated this pig, he wasn't worth the guilt of ending his pitiful existence. It would be too merciful.
I drug him by the ears into Barl Hoxun's office. Barl and I, we went way back. Both Anarchs. Both fighting the good fight. He did it in his way, I did it in mine. Barl was the kind of guy that knew his turf, knew what was going on. The closest thing to an Anarch politician that we had, a guy that supported us with a hideout and coins in our pockets, but not afraid to pick up a weapon and fight. This was the kind of guy I could elect to office. No bureaucracy. No bull-<<Bleep>>, a guy who got stuff done. A real anarch. Not these wannabes who go around tooting their horns, trying to pick up chicks by being the "bad boy."
First lesson in being an Anarch, kids: If people know you're an Anarch....you're doing it wrong.
I proceeded to squeeze this guy like a lemon. The metaphor is apt, cause the answer I got was just as bitter. Seems this guy was just a watchdog. He didn't see or hear anything overly important. He did, however, drop a very juicy piece of info. He informed me that he was ordered, ORDERED to report the disappearance of Nero Urbane as just that...a disappearance. He was fired from the Harmonium because he let it slip, accidentally, that this was no abduction. He let it be known to the wrong people that this was MURDER.
Factotum Green. That's the name he gave me. The Factotum of the Guvners himself had given the order to cover this up and keep it quiet. Nero must have gotten close to something. Something big. Something worth putting him in the ground over. This was more than murder. This was more than an investigator who got too nosy. This was conspiracy. This went deep. Real deep. Possibly all the way to the top.
How is anybody ever going to convict a Factotum of the Guvners? They don't just make the laws, they are the law. They use their power to conveniently write laws that benefit the rich and the powerful. The same rich and powerful who conveniently slide them coins and favors in order to insure that they stay rich and Powerful.
What did Nero find? How deep does this go? I went to find answers, but in the end I only had more questions. But my next objective was clear. I needed a copy of the Crime Scene report. I needed anything, any tiny sliver of evidence that I could get my hands on to make a case against Green. This wouldn't be easy. My own criminal background would almost immediately discredit anything that I said against a Guvner. What can I say: I'm a naughty boy at times, and I don't like following rules set by people who don't follow them themselves.
Brom was no longer of any use to me. Fortunately, I came prepared. A little bit of Styx water from the Sensate Hall would nullify his memory of the past few days, as well as put him to sleep for a few hours. I dropped him off on a couch, figured I'd let him blame the memory loss on the bottle of tequila that I left by his feet. Just another forgotten night. No doubt not his first. No doubt not his last.
I made my way back to the Clerk's Ward. I had enough of this district already in the short time that I had spent here. But now, the real challenge begins. The Harmonium no doubt kept their records locked up tighter than a Taker's <<sugar cookie>> during tax collection. Getting in there would be tough. Getting in there would be a challenge. But most importantly...
...getting in there would be fun."
(( To be Continued! ))
I sauntered my way up to the bar and took a seat. After the crappy day I'd been through I could use a stiff drink, and the whiskey that they served in this place was among the best. The kind of brew that could be used as a viable substitute for lamp oil. The kind of brew that the down-trodden drank to forget their sorrows. As I sat at the bar, I was approached by a young blonde. Nice curvaceous figure, with a cute smile and big eyelashes.
She proceeded to try the usual pick-ups. She was already inebriated. I could smell the whiskey on her breath and laughed silently to myself as the poor girl was barely able to stand on her own. This was the kind of girl that had a hard life, and was looking to snuggle up next to anything that would take her home for the night. I assume, of course, this is because she had no home of her own. She had the kind of world-weary look about her that she was the type of dame who had to fight for every little thing she had. Most of all, whether it was the john who had just had his way with her...or from life itself...she was used to being used and then kicked to the curve. Just another silent sufferer in this hell of a city. I bought the girl a drink, like any gentleman should, and slipped a pair of coins into her pocket while she was feeling me up. Heh. Perhaps the first coins she had gotten in a long time that didn't involve her taking her clothes off.
The mark I was looking for, this Brom guy, he let his name slip at the bar. Bad move. The Hive was the kind of place that you didn't make your name known except to those you trusted with your life. Because in this place, names were lives. To know the name of a thing is to have power over it...and he had just given me the leverage I needed. This guy was definitely Harmonium, or at least rather he used to be. The smug look of arrogance, the copper-a-dozen haircut and the slacked jaw that advertised he was a man who made his coin off of his ability to shut up and do what he was told rather than any actual brainpower or ambition. I told the man that I was looking for him. He didn't take too kindly to that.
Fortunately for me the guy was as slow as he was stupid. The alcohol in his system certainly didn't do anything to enhance his reflexes or his ability at hand-to-hand. The fight was over before it began. I had to hand it to myself: I could be one of Sigil's deadliest assassins. I just had a very basic rule I followed: No blood unless necessary. Much as I hated this pig, he wasn't worth the guilt of ending his pitiful existence. It would be too merciful.
I drug him by the ears into Barl Hoxun's office. Barl and I, we went way back. Both Anarchs. Both fighting the good fight. He did it in his way, I did it in mine. Barl was the kind of guy that knew his turf, knew what was going on. The closest thing to an Anarch politician that we had, a guy that supported us with a hideout and coins in our pockets, but not afraid to pick up a weapon and fight. This was the kind of guy I could elect to office. No bureaucracy. No bull-<<Bleep>>, a guy who got stuff done. A real anarch. Not these wannabes who go around tooting their horns, trying to pick up chicks by being the "bad boy."
First lesson in being an Anarch, kids: If people know you're an Anarch....you're doing it wrong.
I proceeded to squeeze this guy like a lemon. The metaphor is apt, cause the answer I got was just as bitter. Seems this guy was just a watchdog. He didn't see or hear anything overly important. He did, however, drop a very juicy piece of info. He informed me that he was ordered, ORDERED to report the disappearance of Nero Urbane as just that...a disappearance. He was fired from the Harmonium because he let it slip, accidentally, that this was no abduction. He let it be known to the wrong people that this was MURDER.
Factotum Green. That's the name he gave me. The Factotum of the Guvners himself had given the order to cover this up and keep it quiet. Nero must have gotten close to something. Something big. Something worth putting him in the ground over. This was more than murder. This was more than an investigator who got too nosy. This was conspiracy. This went deep. Real deep. Possibly all the way to the top.
How is anybody ever going to convict a Factotum of the Guvners? They don't just make the laws, they are the law. They use their power to conveniently write laws that benefit the rich and the powerful. The same rich and powerful who conveniently slide them coins and favors in order to insure that they stay rich and Powerful.
What did Nero find? How deep does this go? I went to find answers, but in the end I only had more questions. But my next objective was clear. I needed a copy of the Crime Scene report. I needed anything, any tiny sliver of evidence that I could get my hands on to make a case against Green. This wouldn't be easy. My own criminal background would almost immediately discredit anything that I said against a Guvner. What can I say: I'm a naughty boy at times, and I don't like following rules set by people who don't follow them themselves.
Brom was no longer of any use to me. Fortunately, I came prepared. A little bit of Styx water from the Sensate Hall would nullify his memory of the past few days, as well as put him to sleep for a few hours. I dropped him off on a couch, figured I'd let him blame the memory loss on the bottle of tequila that I left by his feet. Just another forgotten night. No doubt not his first. No doubt not his last.
I made my way back to the Clerk's Ward. I had enough of this district already in the short time that I had spent here. But now, the real challenge begins. The Harmonium no doubt kept their records locked up tighter than a Taker's <<sugar cookie>> during tax collection. Getting in there would be tough. Getting in there would be a challenge. But most importantly...
...getting in there would be fun."
(( To be Continued! ))
-
*kitteninablender
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
My next goal was clear: The Harmonium barracks. The belly of the Beast itself....if the Beast was fat, stupid, incompetent, corrupt, and smelled like something a Minotaur wiped it's ass with.
The objectives were two-fold: The evidence locker and the Archive room. Any remote chance I had whatsoever of building a case against Factotum Green lied there, and only there. This wasn't going to be easy.
If there was one thing in the world that the Harmonium Soldiers guarded closer than their bag of doughnuts it was their criminal files. Well, the ones that weren't "conveniently" edited or lost to cover up things like harassment and police brutality. Cases like those tended to vanish to the bottom of the pile. Knowing my luck the Nero case wasn't just at the bottom of the filing cabinet....it was buried UNDER the prison.
But if it was indeed buried deep, this Changeling was going in with a shovel. Green wanted those records to disappear, but he knew that if they were completely destroyed that it would look suspicious. Even he would have to follow the mandatory waiting period before the files would be removed from the archive, and he would only be able to edit them then. For a while, only a short while, the Harmonium had unedited documents detailing the crime scene. Details I needed. Evidence that, if enough time passed, would be lost forever.
There was a problem though: If I stole the evidence there was no way I could substantiate it. The moment i tried to take evidence stolen from a Harmonium locker to a Guvner I'd be arrested and the evidence would be rendered inadmissable in court. After all: Any evidence garnered through illegal means couldn't legally be used to prosecute. Basic law 101. For all of his constant badgering: Having my father's mind in my head was finally becoming useful for something.
What this means for the less legally proficient is that not only would I have to steal it: I would have to forge the papers in the Archives to remove it from their records. That way I could call it a private investigation, and the evidence would be admissable in court. They wouldn't be able to claim it stolen if it wasn't in their records. Because if it doesn't exist on record....it does not exist at all. Basic Law, 101, intermediary course. Thanks again, Dad.
The harmonium are the type who wouldn't keep too many copies of any individual record: Too much of a chance for things to go missing or get mixed up in the bureaucracy of it all. I knew that if I erased it in the Archive it would be gone for good. But I would need to get in. And I would need something that was far more valuable than all of the records in their archive or the gold in their treasury:
I would need time.
I needed a distraction. A big distraction. One big enough that even the lowliest harmonium on latrine duty would be pulled from station to react. I needed something bold. Something inventive...
...something completely and utterly insane.
I knew exactly what I would need to do. This was going to be funny as hell..."
(( to be continued! ))
The objectives were two-fold: The evidence locker and the Archive room. Any remote chance I had whatsoever of building a case against Factotum Green lied there, and only there. This wasn't going to be easy.
If there was one thing in the world that the Harmonium Soldiers guarded closer than their bag of doughnuts it was their criminal files. Well, the ones that weren't "conveniently" edited or lost to cover up things like harassment and police brutality. Cases like those tended to vanish to the bottom of the pile. Knowing my luck the Nero case wasn't just at the bottom of the filing cabinet....it was buried UNDER the prison.
But if it was indeed buried deep, this Changeling was going in with a shovel. Green wanted those records to disappear, but he knew that if they were completely destroyed that it would look suspicious. Even he would have to follow the mandatory waiting period before the files would be removed from the archive, and he would only be able to edit them then. For a while, only a short while, the Harmonium had unedited documents detailing the crime scene. Details I needed. Evidence that, if enough time passed, would be lost forever.
There was a problem though: If I stole the evidence there was no way I could substantiate it. The moment i tried to take evidence stolen from a Harmonium locker to a Guvner I'd be arrested and the evidence would be rendered inadmissable in court. After all: Any evidence garnered through illegal means couldn't legally be used to prosecute. Basic law 101. For all of his constant badgering: Having my father's mind in my head was finally becoming useful for something.
What this means for the less legally proficient is that not only would I have to steal it: I would have to forge the papers in the Archives to remove it from their records. That way I could call it a private investigation, and the evidence would be admissable in court. They wouldn't be able to claim it stolen if it wasn't in their records. Because if it doesn't exist on record....it does not exist at all. Basic Law, 101, intermediary course. Thanks again, Dad.
The harmonium are the type who wouldn't keep too many copies of any individual record: Too much of a chance for things to go missing or get mixed up in the bureaucracy of it all. I knew that if I erased it in the Archive it would be gone for good. But I would need to get in. And I would need something that was far more valuable than all of the records in their archive or the gold in their treasury:
I would need time.
I needed a distraction. A big distraction. One big enough that even the lowliest harmonium on latrine duty would be pulled from station to react. I needed something bold. Something inventive...
...something completely and utterly insane.
I knew exactly what I would need to do. This was going to be funny as hell..."
(( to be continued! ))
-
*kitteninablender
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
My target was the Gatehouse. The loony bin. The nuthouse. Whatever you wanted to call it, this was the place where "civilized" society decided to deem "worthy" of putting the "Special" people into isolation.
This place was full of Psychopaths, sociopaths, schizophrenics and sexual deviants. Some people called it a Psych Ward. I just called it a recruiting hall for potential Mercykillers.
The last Guvner I talked to about this placed referred to it as "An asylum for the criminally insane." heh. Guvners already had a place for that. It was called "Law School."
Then, of course, there was the Bleaker's Wing. The wing for people who had simply given up on life. Those who had seen the mountain of bull<bleep> that the multiverse had handed them and simply decided that it just wasn't worth dealing with. Nihilists. Fatalists. And I thought I was jaded....
These guys, they had it all wrong. That the universe was nothing but a dark, bleak place full of misery and disappointment. People who had nothing to live for...and yet no desire to die. They were caught forever in a Purgatory of their own making: Not dead, and yet not truly alive. Little more than living corpses waiting out their days hoping for an oblivion that may or may not come.
So what was I going to do with an entire Asylum full of lunatics? Simple:
...I was going to let them all out.
It would be the perfect distraction. A little hallucinogenic in the water supply, a few picked locks, and suddenly the streets of Sigil would be full of psychopaths. Heh. Not that it wasn't already.
I was only going to release the ones that weren't exceptionally dangerous. No murderers. No rapists. Just the ones who were a general public nuisance. The ones who were like me. I'm just as crazy as they are, I have simply yet to be found as such by a jury of my peers..
The Harmonium would have no choice but to respond in full force. If this many nuts got loose and escaped apprehension it would be a P.R. nightmare for the Hardheads. They would act, fast. It wouldn't take them long to round up everybody, I knew this. Maybe an hour. More than enough time to do what I had to do.
I needed that crime scene report. It was the only thing I could do to point any evidence towards Factotum Green of the Guvners and get Justice for the murder of Nero Urbane. I had a real Harmonium Uniform. A real Faction Badge, too, as well as legitimate papers. But they were old. Real old. There was no guarantee that Notary Maxwell Grimsdottr was even still alive, much less still employed. But the disguise would work.
For all of it's uses, True Seeing had one very fatal, fundamental flaw: It could not pierce things that were Mundanely disguised. And fortunately for me those Hardhead uniforms hid every bit of skin on the body. That, and it was True SIGHT, not True HEARING. Being a Changeling has it's advantages: I can disguise my voice as easily as I can disguise my body. A trick that I have mastered, oftentimes to great comedic effect.
People assume I'm just some idiot. Which is absolutely fine with me. Let them think you're a jester and they'll never suspect that you're a Genius. In a royal court, the Jester has the most power of all. He can make fun of the King, to his face, and get away scot-free. Nobody suspects the fool. It's something that I've come to rely on in my time in Sigil. Heh. Let the people think I'm just some lecherous pig..and they'll never know just how dangerous I really am.
But the Harmonium was about to find out...
(( To be continued! ))
This place was full of Psychopaths, sociopaths, schizophrenics and sexual deviants. Some people called it a Psych Ward. I just called it a recruiting hall for potential Mercykillers.
The last Guvner I talked to about this placed referred to it as "An asylum for the criminally insane." heh. Guvners already had a place for that. It was called "Law School."
Then, of course, there was the Bleaker's Wing. The wing for people who had simply given up on life. Those who had seen the mountain of bull<bleep> that the multiverse had handed them and simply decided that it just wasn't worth dealing with. Nihilists. Fatalists. And I thought I was jaded....
These guys, they had it all wrong. That the universe was nothing but a dark, bleak place full of misery and disappointment. People who had nothing to live for...and yet no desire to die. They were caught forever in a Purgatory of their own making: Not dead, and yet not truly alive. Little more than living corpses waiting out their days hoping for an oblivion that may or may not come.
So what was I going to do with an entire Asylum full of lunatics? Simple:
...I was going to let them all out.
It would be the perfect distraction. A little hallucinogenic in the water supply, a few picked locks, and suddenly the streets of Sigil would be full of psychopaths. Heh. Not that it wasn't already.
I was only going to release the ones that weren't exceptionally dangerous. No murderers. No rapists. Just the ones who were a general public nuisance. The ones who were like me. I'm just as crazy as they are, I have simply yet to be found as such by a jury of my peers..
The Harmonium would have no choice but to respond in full force. If this many nuts got loose and escaped apprehension it would be a P.R. nightmare for the Hardheads. They would act, fast. It wouldn't take them long to round up everybody, I knew this. Maybe an hour. More than enough time to do what I had to do.
I needed that crime scene report. It was the only thing I could do to point any evidence towards Factotum Green of the Guvners and get Justice for the murder of Nero Urbane. I had a real Harmonium Uniform. A real Faction Badge, too, as well as legitimate papers. But they were old. Real old. There was no guarantee that Notary Maxwell Grimsdottr was even still alive, much less still employed. But the disguise would work.
For all of it's uses, True Seeing had one very fatal, fundamental flaw: It could not pierce things that were Mundanely disguised. And fortunately for me those Hardhead uniforms hid every bit of skin on the body. That, and it was True SIGHT, not True HEARING. Being a Changeling has it's advantages: I can disguise my voice as easily as I can disguise my body. A trick that I have mastered, oftentimes to great comedic effect.
People assume I'm just some idiot. Which is absolutely fine with me. Let them think you're a jester and they'll never suspect that you're a Genius. In a royal court, the Jester has the most power of all. He can make fun of the King, to his face, and get away scot-free. Nobody suspects the fool. It's something that I've come to rely on in my time in Sigil. Heh. Let the people think I'm just some lecherous pig..and they'll never know just how dangerous I really am.
But the Harmonium was about to find out...
(( To be continued! ))
-
*kitteninablender
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
A bust. A goddamn Bust. That's all this investigation ever was from the goddamn start. All that investigating, all that wondering about some vast conspiracy into the death of Nero...and it was all a sham. At least, that's what I thought at first.
Nyrallah was the one who filled me in on it. Nero's soup was poisoned. He keeled over from poison in his soup, but his soul was completely destroyed. That's why the body disappeared. It had no soul to keep it solid, and so it discorporated into nothing. Not only that, but Factotum Green, the guy I assumed to be behind this whole facade...was actually one of the GOOD guys.
Nyrallah had asked Factotum Green to keep a lid on the murder for a while, as a personal favor to her. To give her time to launch an investigation apparently. Damn. And I had so looked forward to busting the balls of a Guvner factotum. But now I was going to have to apologize. I don't think he eats or drinks, but I mailed him a bottle of scotch anyways. I hope he drinks it. There's a special layer in Hell for people who waste good scotch...
Nyrallah was even nice enough to give me her copy of the Harmonium Crime Scene report. I read it. Nothing suspicious at all. Of course, I knew she was hiding something. So I did what I do best. I camouflaged myself, and I followed her. I heard her talking to Myrra at Khazeet's bar. I liked Myrra, she was a nice girl. I had a one night stand with her once. Of course, I've had one night stands with just about anything cute and female that walks in this city. Nyrallah included.
I think that's why me and Nero butted heads so much. Nero was the suave, smooth-talkin' mother-<bleep>er whose mere words could cause a woman's panties to fall around her ankles. Me, I was much more direct, aggressive. What can I say, some girls like that ya know. But Nero, Nero knew how to treat the ladies. He made them all feel like Queens. He knew how to get into their heads, make them feel special. Me, I just treated them like playthings.
I think, really, that's why I care so much about this damn case. Nero is the kind of guy I wish I could be. Someone who genuinely, truly cared about people. Not somebody who was so jaded about life and the multiverse in general that it was impossible for him to have an actual connection to somebody.
I think that's why I envied him. And in the end, I think that's why I wanted to solve this case so badly. To one-up him. To prove to him that I wasn't some idiot, that I wasn't some useless joker.
As I sat at Khazeet's bar and listened to Nyrallah, she spilled the beans to Myrra. Turns out that some time ago, Nero had killed a Cambion by the name of Graves. Not only killed him, but had somehow locked his soul away so that he could never be resurrected. Seems that Graves' father was none other than Dispater. Lord of the Second. Lord of the Iron City of Dis. The only person that Davoren Hellsheart would ever admit was a better strategist than himself.
Suddenly, this case just got a lot more interesting. This case went from implicating a Factotum to implicating one of the Dukes of the Nine. Hoo-boy. Looks like this Changeling Detective was about to put in some serious overtime...
Nyrallah was the one who filled me in on it. Nero's soup was poisoned. He keeled over from poison in his soup, but his soul was completely destroyed. That's why the body disappeared. It had no soul to keep it solid, and so it discorporated into nothing. Not only that, but Factotum Green, the guy I assumed to be behind this whole facade...was actually one of the GOOD guys.
Nyrallah had asked Factotum Green to keep a lid on the murder for a while, as a personal favor to her. To give her time to launch an investigation apparently. Damn. And I had so looked forward to busting the balls of a Guvner factotum. But now I was going to have to apologize. I don't think he eats or drinks, but I mailed him a bottle of scotch anyways. I hope he drinks it. There's a special layer in Hell for people who waste good scotch...
Nyrallah was even nice enough to give me her copy of the Harmonium Crime Scene report. I read it. Nothing suspicious at all. Of course, I knew she was hiding something. So I did what I do best. I camouflaged myself, and I followed her. I heard her talking to Myrra at Khazeet's bar. I liked Myrra, she was a nice girl. I had a one night stand with her once. Of course, I've had one night stands with just about anything cute and female that walks in this city. Nyrallah included.
I think that's why me and Nero butted heads so much. Nero was the suave, smooth-talkin' mother-<bleep>er whose mere words could cause a woman's panties to fall around her ankles. Me, I was much more direct, aggressive. What can I say, some girls like that ya know. But Nero, Nero knew how to treat the ladies. He made them all feel like Queens. He knew how to get into their heads, make them feel special. Me, I just treated them like playthings.
I think, really, that's why I care so much about this damn case. Nero is the kind of guy I wish I could be. Someone who genuinely, truly cared about people. Not somebody who was so jaded about life and the multiverse in general that it was impossible for him to have an actual connection to somebody.
I think that's why I envied him. And in the end, I think that's why I wanted to solve this case so badly. To one-up him. To prove to him that I wasn't some idiot, that I wasn't some useless joker.
As I sat at Khazeet's bar and listened to Nyrallah, she spilled the beans to Myrra. Turns out that some time ago, Nero had killed a Cambion by the name of Graves. Not only killed him, but had somehow locked his soul away so that he could never be resurrected. Seems that Graves' father was none other than Dispater. Lord of the Second. Lord of the Iron City of Dis. The only person that Davoren Hellsheart would ever admit was a better strategist than himself.
Suddenly, this case just got a lot more interesting. This case went from implicating a Factotum to implicating one of the Dukes of the Nine. Hoo-boy. Looks like this Changeling Detective was about to put in some serious overtime...