Magnus attempts to tone down the conversation, presenting a plausible excuse for his arrival, though he barely has a few words out of his mouth before the guard raises his voice again.

"I don't care if you want trouble!  You had better..."

Magnus lifts up his shirt to show the stab wound, or rather the bandages which haven't been changed since the previous day which now sport a dark red stain though the wound stopped bleeding long ago.  But the guard's shouting puts him a little off of his plan, and before he even realizes he is doing it, Magnus is raising his own voice, just trying to get a word in.

"Is that the minotaur?"  Comes a distant shout from the back of the prison.  "Get me out of here!  You owe me!  They're all dead..."

"Shut up!"  The guard roars back over his shoulder.  "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"...Strangled alone in their cells, one after the next!  Not another soul..."

"Shut the fuck up!"  The guard booms, slamming a club down on his desk with a massive thunk!  All of the commotion makes the thief's shouted words difficult to separate, and the guard continues shouting on top of him.  "Or I will come back there and make you wish you did!"

There is a tense, quiet moment, though after the guard accepts that the thief has been muted he quickly turns his attention back to Magnus, his face flushed a crimson red.

"I said get out!"

Magnus decided not to push his luck, as tempting as it might be. He nodded and backed away before he turned and stepped back out into the street.

"Not another soul..." is what the thief had said. Not another soul around? Three men strangled by some invisible force? It made sense, in a way. The Minotaur had certainly seen stranger things...

He has two main plans forming,.and they were not mutually exclusive. The first involved trying to find a way to free the thief, likely through bail or bribery. The guard at the desk was not the one to go through, and that was certain, and the court was closed. The Magistrate himself was also not an option.

Getting him conscripted...now that was an option. It freed the thief, and even the Legions could use a one handed man to do scut work, cutting vegetables or hauling water. He imagined it would not be terribly hard, especially with a little coin to smooth things along.

The other was to canvas the immediate area, more investigation, to see if any of the locals had in fact seen or heard anything unusual the night before.

As he was already right there, he took a walk around the block, looking for any adjacent open windows, locals going about their business outside, or any vagrants hanging around. Anybody who might be able to point him in the right direction.

Magnus wanders the vicinity for an hour or so, asking for information and eavesdropping on other whispered conversations...  Though the stories varied wildly, with many insisting that these men had received divine retribution for their crimes and one man swearing he had seen a blackened imp climb in through the barred jail windows in the dead of night, what seemed constant enough was that the first cries heard from the prison were of confusion.

"Grannick was just outside and heard it all."  Magnus strains his ears to pick up the words, for he had already been given one angry glance by the two huddled men and had skulked off a little farther, doing his best to feign disinterest.  "'Jemma! Jemma!' a man was screaming.  'What's wrong?  Help, guard!'"  Magnus sneaks a glance over, noting the whispering man's widened eyes.

"Then there was two of 'em screamin.  Bloody ruckus it was said Grannick.  'fore long another voice came shouting out, asking what the hell was going on, banging on the bars with a clang, clang, clang.  Then that one loses his mind too, shouting and hysterical over all of 'em.  Damn zoo that place was.  God smiting em down if you ask me.  Showing us that sinning against your brother is a sin against heaven."  The man nods his head firmly, before making a quick glance Magnus's way.

OOC:  Nice roll.  I hadn't even thought of that skill - it seemed inappropriate at first mention, though in this day and age, I'm not sure what else it could be other than simply listening to gossip.

Magnus had learned more than he had hoped in his stroll.

It seemed that the attack had come unexpectedly and from some unseen source. Not a mundane assassination, likely nothing visible at all, but some familiar spirit or conjured demon set to unholy task.

It seemed he would likely not need the Thief after all.

How to combat something that you could not see? How to determine who was directing this thing? These were questions for a Mage or a Priest, not a semi-literate Minotaur sell sword.

Magnus's mind turned to his next two tasks. The first being self defense, lest the same fate come upon him in the night, and the second being the skinny, gaunt man who had hired the thugs. The unwashed middle man.

He had a name, Jemma, and Jemma had friends, and hangouts and a life before he met his end in that squalid jail. I

It seemed that the investigation continued...

Magnus is going to try and find Father Little, who was mentioned before, and try to arrange for a blessing to ward off evil spirits.

After that, his plan is to look into Jemma's last night among the living and see if he can't track down where they had met this gaunt employer.

Hearing enough for the moment, Magnus decides to redress his search away from who and instead towards how to bring this nefarious actor to justice.

It was a question for Judoc perhaps, who had plumbed the depths of magic as far as anyone Magnus knew...  Though if the mage was not already on his way back to Azer, he was at best in Craine, which was still little help to Magnus now.

Instead, Magnus thinks to talk to Father Litle, the priest he had heard mention of in the proceeding days.  Perhaps he could shed some light on this 'curse,' or in any case on whatever creature or thing might have strangled three men in the middle of the night.  Magnus headed off, in the opposite direction of the crowd, towards the cathedral where the father made his ministries.

The building is by far the most impressive Magnus has seen in the city.  Though he had passed by it two nights ago, the sight of it in the middle of day is something to behold...  At the center of a small hill, circled by the cobbled road, the cathedral climbs dozens of feet into the air, its corners decked with stone sculptures of angels and demons, its enormous stone face broken by various wide stained glass windows which depict various figures from biblical stories.

Magnus walks in through the massive double doors with some trepidation.  However, luckily for him, it seemed that last of the crowds had dispersed and only a small handful of women continued to walk around the sanctuary, removing linens and relics from the altar and pulpit.

But as Magnus continues along the length of the sanctuary, a priest walks out of a small shrine to the side of the nave, and noting Magnus, makes his way towards the minotaur.

"Here for confession?"  The man asks, a thin but congenial smile upon his face.

Magnus moved within the cathedral with the softest steps he could manage, and a contrite demeanor, his hands clasped low in front of him. In the morning light the stained glass seemed especially beautiful, and he looked all around at the sumptuous brocade, the intricate frescos and the grand ceiling above.

When the Priest approached him, Magnus seemed about to answer, paused with his mouth open just a fraction, and then nodded. "Yes Father, if you've got the time that is."

It soon became apparent that the Minotaur did not fit within the confines of the confessional. His horns simply could not be accommodated. But given that traffic was light on a Monday, they simply took the cushion out and Magnus knelt upon it just outside the open door where his voice could still be heard, and at least some privacy gained as his mouth protruded to within the box.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been...seven months since my last confession." The Minotaur intoned in a low, rumbling tone as he knelt upon the cushion, hands clasped in front of himself.

While a life on the road had not permitted attending a regular Church service, Magnus had been baptized shortly after birth. Monks, pilgrims and the occasional Priest all had cause to travel, and most seemed willing to tend to their inhuman flock. Of course some naturally took issue with the hoofs, and the hair, and especially the horns, but so did the average man after all.

Magnus took a deep breath as he thought back. "I've done the sin of murder Father. While fightin' for the Empire I've killed..." Magnus swallowed hard. "Well I've killed a lot of Wazifi soldiers." he honestly could not recall the number. It was almost certainly less than ten. There was a pause.

"I also killed a bandit and some...others, in self defense" he did not want to say "elves" as he was not sure if those wretched things in the jungle had in fact been elves. He suddenly felt dirty. How often did somebody come here to confess a murder, and Magnus had just rattled off several. How did that make him look in the eyes of this Priest who probably dealt with things like coveting a neighbors wife or cheating on taxes.

"I don't know if it helps Father, if the Lord keeps track of these things. But one of those Wazifi. ah, consorted with familiar spirits, and more than that he raised the dead. I put them back down though...those poor bodies he raised up." Magnus licked his lips. "And there was a Demon with 'im, or a Devil I guess. I don't know what you'd call it, but I'd say it was a demon, I don't want to say its name here in the house of the Lord...but I killed that too, or as much as you can kill that sort of thing I guess...Smashed it into, well, something like coal" Magnus felt like he was rambling, so he cleared his throat. "There was some statues, golems I guess they're called. I'm not sure if they have souls or anythin' like that. Also killed..."

He was silent for some time. "I suppose that's it Father." he stared down at the floor in silent contemplation. The spearman that had nearly killed him. Sadda, the "black bird" that had eluded them for so long. The crossbow bolt that had nearly caught him in the face their first day out. Maybe the Lord was looking out for him.

Father Litle gestures Magnus to the confessional booth, heading there himself first and opening the door on on his side.  It takes Magnus some time to find out how to actually occupy the tiny space, for he's tall even for his own race... which are normally six inches to a foot over the size of normal men.  In the end, removing the cushion provides enough space, though his knees are still pressed uncomfortably against the far wall even with his back and seat scooted all the way back...

Nevertheless, Magnus starts his confession.  Murder.  The word sounded quite stark leaving his lips.  It sounded much darker than it had felt at the time.  Had he a choice not to fight the Necromancer?  Or the soldiers that had stormed the Fort at Three Corners?  Or the turned beasts of the cavern under Perdition?  He had done his best to avoid a fight with the Necromancer's men, bashing a hole in the back wall of the clinic rather than rushing to face them at the front.  Given a choice, Magnus had always resisted hard against the nature of violence so common to his herd.  Would God see his actions the same way?  Or for that matter, would Father Litle?

A silence falls after Magnus has finished...  He had added the golems...  Was killing them a sin?  It seemed foolish to leave them out when there was already such a heavy toll of life, a mere drop in the bucket.  And still father Litle was not talking...  The silence stretched on uncomfortably, causing Magnus to wonder if he should just get out of the booth and be on his way.

Though after what seems like minutes, Father Litle does speak.  "You are right to confess your sins to the almighty father, for while we cannot live in a world of peace until fear and hate have been blotted from the world both far and near, God loves all his children, however waylaid and misguided they may be."

The priests words are somewhat hesitant, and he stutters at times, once having to make several attempts to say the word 'sins.'  Though his last comment seems much more practiced and smooth.

"God, the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen."

Father Litle stops, letting silence fall again.  Magnus knows that this is the moment he is expected to depart the confessional...  though perhaps this was as good of a time as any to ask his questions.

Magnus felt, better.

Although he had not realized it, he felt like he could breath a little easier, and like his head was a little clearer. Of course he was not sure if it was just the ability to open up about the violence, uncertainty and ugliness that composed so much if his profession, or if it was the absolution of his sins before God.

Either way, he felt better.

When he did speak it was in a more relaxed, confident tone. "Father, before you go. I wonder if I could ask a favor?" he asked.

"I don't know if this is right or not, so I'm sorry if I'm just confused. But I was hopin' to get your blessing, for protection." he clarified. "I think there's an evil spirit of some kind, here in the city. Those men that were just killed? I think it had something to do with it...and if it turns on me, well, I'm not sure there's much I could do." He shrugged. "Is there anything you would, well, recommend?"

In the confession booth, Magnus hears an exhalation of breath, sharper than a sigh but not quite as forceful as a chuckle.

Perhaps it did seem odd... a monster coming to ask for forgiveness for murder, then turning and asking for protection from the same...

"My son, there is enough evil in this world of men that we can see and feel.  Do not fear that which you cannot see or know.  It is men, not spirits, who fall into the devil's influence and do his bidding.  It is they who cause injury and corruption.  But pray with me, and I will seek your protection."

Father Litle clears his throat, his stutter causing him to stumble over a few of his words, though he presses on after a moment.

"Dear Father, we seek your protection from the wickedness of the evil one.  We come to your refuge with joy, for you shelter us against the attacks of the devil.  Protect us, O Lord, from the craftiness of the enemy, and save us from his evil plots.  Cover us with your presence when we feel weak so that he will flee from our presence.  Amen."

"Amen" Magnus intoned in turn.

Magnus felt a sense of peace come over him as he knelt there in the Cathedral.

If God had made all things, then he surely had made all the peoples of Yrth. True, to Magnus's limited understanding Humanity had been the first to collect the holy writings into the Bible, but he had been told since he was young that all those who lived in accordance with God's law, and who had repented their sins would earn eternal salvation. Himself included, despite his unusual ancestry.

So while Magnus knew with certainty that Satan and all his servants and works were arrayed against the good people of the world, he was less afraid of this murderous specter than he had been.

He thanked Father Little, and after one more glance around the Cathedral, he made his way back out into the street, renewed and ready to start his hunt for Jemma and the gaunt man who had hired him the day before.

Magnus thanks Father Litle, then makes his way out of the Cathedral, prepared, at least spiritually, to engage whatever may come.

Unfortunately, what came was very little.

Magnus considered himself patient... at least he often found himself to less compulsive than the rest of his group during their wanderings in Perdition.  Still, he could not help but feel consternation at the complete lack of information that was confronting him about these three men... or their employer.

It wasn't even that no one was willing to talk to him.  In fact, it was quite the reverse.  Many were positively gushing to repeat the salacious details, real or concocted, of the men's murder.  But when Magnus pressed for something else, something about the men, their history, their employer, anything, he finds that the information is simply not to be had.  It is as if the men had appeared from nowhere, brandishing weapons in the center of Angel Armory.  As if that was the first day of their existence.

Magnus circles through the merchant districts, the markets, and even the old city ghetto, but everywhere it seems the same.  The prisoners, and the name 'Jemma' seem to be only the murky surface beneath which, Magnus cannot see how deep the bottom goes.

Tired and hungry, Magnus finds himself back along the main drag of the city, somewhat farther along than the Cathedral and the Armory, though not quite to the Red Lion, the inn where he had been eaten alive by fleas on his first evening in the city.  Just a few blocks back was the White Heart, and Magnus can just see the sign swaying back and forth in the distance.

OOC:  It is 1400 on August 8th.  Despite your renewed efforts, you didn't pick up any new information.  Startlingly little seems to be known about the three men themselves, apart from the sensationalized story of what happened to them last night.  You find no details of their personal lives or indeed anything about them previous to the moment they showed up in Angel Armory.

Magnus was seated on a low stone fence in the shade, and was enjoying his lunch as he considered his dilemma.

His stab wound hurt, he was mentally exhausted and the weather continued to be gray and cool, and as he helped himself to another bite of apple he struggled with his next course of action.

He could not go directly after the Magistrate, as he believed that would be tantamount to suicide. The man was highly placed, easily recognized and held obvious sway in the city, and yet his efforts to go after the intermediary had turned up nothing.

The men who could tell him were dead, and his access to his one eye witness was still in the jail with no obvious way to access him, even if the Thief had any further information, which Magnus doubted.

An examination of Margerie's body, or an interview with the Farmer who had found her would likely turn up little more than he already knew...

...and so his next move eluded him.

As he chewed, he looked up into the clouded sky and around at the people going about their day. Not for the first time he considered that if he had been born human, he would simply be able to go buy a helmet. But he was not, and so he needed to get back to work.

He stood and brushed off his hands on his pants. The Thief was a poor lead, but likely his best one, and the easiest way Magnus could think of to break him out was to get him conscripted.

It was time to seek out the Legion, and to name drop Major Brashear and maybe throw some coin around to see what he could arrange.

Magnus's thoughts loomed like the overhead clouds, threatening yet more rain.

Part of the investigation seemed imminently clear...  The magistrate had seduced or coerced the girl, Margerie, impregnated her, then threatened her if she made the information public.  Perhaps he had cut off all ties with her, making her choose between the life of an unwed mother (which Margerie knew all too well thanks to her roommate) or no life at all...  Had pushed her, metaphorically at least, into the fast-running Conn.

It was the next step that eluded Magnus.

Who had created the curse and why had Daneel been targeted?  While it had seemed that rumors had spread about Daneel being the father, those rumors seemed easy enough to disprove...  Perhaps not many, but at least a handful knew that the Magistrate was the father...

And why all the murders?  The townspeople kept talking of them as if they were all connected....  Were they?  Certainly the three prisoners had been killed to keep them from talking, but what of the other two that had been killed before?  Mother Alice had described what had happened - the man who lived alone was choked to death, and the wife in the inn degenerating with bruises and blood sores as her body ceased to function.

Witchcraft.

The word ate at Magnus.  He had known mages.  What they had done seemed much more... normal than this.

Though Magnus knows the Magistrate is likely to have more answers, he decides not to take such chances with his life or freedom.  Perhaps there was more the thief knew...  And perhaps he could get him the freedom he wanted...  This letter of introduction from Major Brashear was just the sort of thing that might come in handy.

Magnus makes his way towards the legion barracks, knowing that the force often took criminals and slaves into its ranks.  Though he steels himself for the quick rebuff that often comes with new places and people, Magnus finds that his commanding form seems to garner a bit of respect from the soldiers, and without too much explanation he manages to be led into the commander's study.

The man, Colonel Bright, seems to have tipped ungracefully into middle age.   What remains of his hair forms a sort of salt and pepper crown which rims the back and sides of his head.  His face and torso are wide and plump, though he carries his weight evenly between his chest and stomach.  His face boasts a wide scar which runs down just behind his eye to his chin, an angry, pink stripe which is stretched tightly across his skin.  He wears a mostly simple uniform which boasts a handful of decorations and medals on the chest and this too, seems to be just too tight for comfort.

"What can I do for you?"  Bright asks Magnus, a friendly but appraising look in his eye.

OOC:  Well, I fully expected that to be an immediate scuttling of your plan...  Then I rolled vs. reaction and got the best roll possible.  Could be interesting to see where this goes.

It was nice in a way to be back among the company of Legionaries. Even if they were not "his" Legionaries, and even if many did look at him with wonder or suspicion, the panoply of war, the familiar sights, sounds and symbols, and even the bearing of the Colonel helped to make him appear more confident about his plan than he actually was.

"Colonel" Magnus greeted the man formally without a salute. "Sorry to take up your time sir, but this should be pretty quick."

He handed over the letter. "I'm lookin' into some murders, and the man I need to talk to is being held as a thief. He's no friend friend of mine, but the jailer won't let me near 'im and he's one of the only leads I've got left." Magnus jerked a thumb towards the general direction of the jail.

"Now you don't know me from Adam, but what I'm thinkin' is if I could pay you for the trouble, you could conscript him, and I can talk with him for a bit, we could both come out ahead." Magnus gestured as he spoke. "Now he's a cripple, only has one hand, but I figure he could carry water, or tend fires or whatever you might need him for." he explained. "As long as I get to talk to him I could care less what you do with him, but your the man with the power, and I can give you my word it's for a good cause." be finished with a touch of hope in his voice.

Colonel Bright returns Magnus's salute smartly and invites the Minotaur to sit, despite Magnus's assurances that the visit will be quick.  Magnus hands over his letter of reference to the Colonel, which the officer peruses as Magnus launches into his offer.

At the mention of "murders," the colonel glances up from the paper, though his expression sours somewhat as Magnus finishes the proposal.

"If you're talking about the murders that have been happening here of late, I'm interested in helping you.  But I don't take bribes.  And I've got no use for a cripple here in the barracks.  But Major Brashear..."  He pushes the letter back in Magnus's direction. "...May.  He's asked me for reinforcements from the garrison here several times, though as he knows, I have my own shortages to deal with, and I can't call up forces like they can in Craine."

The colonel sits back, his expression softening slightly though he narrows his eyes at Magnus.

"So I'll make you a counter offer.  You give me your word you'll personally see this man down to Three Corners and I'll conscript him.  I'll throw him in the brig and you can question him here all you like.  You can go off and find your murderer, but when you are done you come back here and assume responsibility for the man until he gets handed over to Brashear.  Then he can decide what to do with him.  The legion may profit, and you get your chance to find your murderer.  What do you say?"

Magnus barely needed to consider the offer. It allowed him to follow up on one of his few leads, and as he had not thought about his plans beyond completing the commission at the Angel Armory, it was a fairly straightforward matter to make his way back to Three Corners. It was not as if he had any commitments elsewhere...

"I didn't mean any offense...I'm having some armor commissioned while I'm here in the city, I hopin' it shouldn't take longer than...a week or so, but once that's done, sure. I can agree to that. If the delay works for you?" The Minotaur nodded.

Colonel Bright merely nods at Magnus's acceptance, brushing off his explanation.

"None taken.  I'm sure it's not what you meant.  I can agree to a delay.  I'll have my men send for this criminal immediately.  You can feel free to wait in the mess if you wish.  It should not be long, the guards never usually put up much of a fight with conscription."

OOC:  Just stopping to make sure you don't want to do anything in the mean time.
 It's about 1430.

"Sounds good sir, I appreciate it." Magnus replied, and found an out of the way place to linger while he waited for the prisoner to be brought back.

He amused himself by watching a unit of what he assumed were newer recruits drill nearby, while he himself watched with his arms crossed in the shade.

Magnus thanks the colonel and makes his way to a more private spot, if there was such a thing for a minotaur.

Whether because of the business of the barracks or his intimidating figure, Magnus is left well enough alone as he broods amongst his thoughts, ruminating over the branches of this case.  The curse, Daneel, the girl, the baby, the father...  He had the hardest time of all figuring out the link between the first and the rest.  If Daneel was not the father, why had he been cursed?  And who would have put it on him?  Though he thinks long on the problem, no clarity seems to strike through the fog.

Before Magnus knows it, an hour has passed.

"Wait, what?  Out of one prison and into another?"  The voice rouses Magnus from his thoughts.  If nothing else, this thief had a mind to make himself heard.

Magnus stands up from his position, making his way along, following the bitter and accosted voice of the thief who had just been saved from death.

"No, no.  You got me all wrong!  I can go out there with the others, I'll make a great soldier, I thought you were conscripting me!"

The man dragging the thief along makes little reaction to the man's cries and please, but dumps him in a small single room with a barred door.

"I want out of here!"  The thief shouts.

Turning from the door of the cell, the soldier notices Magnus, and approaches him.  "The colonel says you can have all the time you need with Mr. Bozan, but he doesn't come out of there until you take him down to Three Corners.  Let us know if you need anything."

The soldier nods, and leaves Magnus alone, for the second time with the thief.  The man who had put in the first crucial piece of the puzzle... that the magistrate was the father of Margerie's child.  Here was to hoping that the man could offer even more now that his life had been saved...
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 19:35, Thu 09 Sept 2021.

Magnus sighed and went to go have his conversation with the thief.

It was a complicated relationship, having once threatened to beat the man senseless, and now having more or less saved the man's life. But here they were, and here they would remain until Magnus escorted him down to Three Corners.

"Alright Mr...Bozan was it?" Magnus greeted him. "I got you out, the only way I could. While the Army may not be what you had in mind, you play your cards right, I figure you could make a pretty decent go at life as a Soldier" he shrugged.

"So I did that for you...but more than that, a friend of mine is the commanding officer at the place we're headed, together, when I get this murder business wrapped up" he explained. The evidence spoke for itself, people with no pull could not get people conscripted.

"And I'm gonna have to explain how all this came about." He nodded his big shaggy head. "Now I could tell him you helped me solve a poor girls murder, and he'll probably set you up alright. But if I tell him you held out and I had to drag you out there kicking and screaming., well...I think you get it. We're on the same team now, in a way" he added in a softer tone.

"So what's it gonna be? Are you gonna help me out? Do the right thing?" He asked as he looked into the man's eyes. "Tell me everything you know about what's goin' on? What just happened in that jail last night?"


17:51, Today: Magnus rolled 10 using 3d6 with rolls of 3,3,4.  Diplomacy (11) Interview.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:55, Sat 03 Apr 2021.

Magnus wasn't sure what he expected.  Though docile cooperation probably was not at the top of the list.  As Magnus stepped around into view of the cell, he managed his first pleasant surprise of the past few days.

"You?"  The thief spouts as Magnus steps into view.  "You did this?"

It is a face of wonder.  Of shock.  It at least was somewhere to start.

"Arnold..."  The man returns, his face still expressionless and his eyes wide as Magnus questions his name.  All through Magnus's explanation, the man maintains the look of bewilderment.

Though Arnold Bozan does not accede immediately to Magnus's request for information, neither does he object.  Instead, he walks towards a sturdy wooden chair at the edge of his cell and sits pulling his knees up to his chest.

"What happened last night?"  Arnold starts with the question, not looking at Magnus.  "Something killed those three men.  I didn't see it at first.  I heard the guy in the cell next to me, through the wall... choking and struggling, slamming up against the wall.  The other two were shouting at him, asking what was wrong.  It was a minute or two before he stopped making noise..."

The man is silent for a moment, though he still cannot look at Magnus.

"Then I saw it.  Just for a moment in the moonlight.  It didn't stand more than a foot tall, though I bet if it stood straight it would be twice that.  Stick thin, dark skinned that looked black in the night with fingers long and thin like the wooden rods used in marionettes.  It went straight for one of the other cells, choked the man as he tried to fight, wrapped those long spindled fingers around his neck and crushed the life and breath from him without a word."

"I didn't watch the third."  Arnold mutters, his face now buried in his hands.  "I couldn't, I just tried to watch for the thing coming in to my own cell.  Once his struggles faded to silence I waited, ready to stomp on the thing when it made an attempt to get in...  But it didn't.  It was gone.  No where.  I called for the guard...  For hours it seemed...  When he came down the other three were dead."

Magnus listened intently, and took notes where he found it pertinent. He did not interrupt Arnold's flow of conversation, but nodded along and wrote quickly as he laid out the evenings events.

The image he had held in his mind was of some kind of invisible force, these men dying mysteriously and without obvious cause, but even the short explanation revealed two remarkably important elements.

The first and most obvious was that this was no invisible specter, no curse wielded from afar. This was a servant of time kind, a small statured assassin that seemed to be able to move in and out at whim. But what was it? Could he find out the nature of such a creature based on the description alone? And if so...how would he defeat it?

He had seen walking statues, the walking dead, and even a servant of Hell, but what could this thing be? Would his mace be enough to lay it low if it came down to it?

The second fact was that the guard was obviously implicated as a conspirator. If they did not respond to the frantic cries for hours, they were likely instructed not to, but by who? The Magistrate himself was the obvious orchestrator...but it was not a certainty yet.

And if the Guards knew, that only helped to cement him as a thorn in the side of the murderer. The first attempt had failed...but a second was almost sure to be made, and soon.

"Magnus, Magnus Maghildson" he replied when the story was over. He asked for more description, the approximate time, anything else he could recall. Sights, sounds, smells. Anything the men or the Guard had said before the attack, anybody that seemed hesitant to let him be conscripted.

He asked that the man draw, to the best of his ability, what he had seen.

When he was confident he had learned all he could, he thanked Arnold and explained the arrangement. He made sure the man comfortable, and then he decided in short order on his next action.

He needed information on this thing, and he only knew of a few places that he might obtain it. The first to come into his mind was Alice. For some reason he suspected that she might know of such a thing, a legend or a myth at least. But he had plenty more to go on now.

The chase was on once more...

Arnold Bozan shakes his head as Magnus asks for more.  "They talked some.  Mostly complaining.  Angry at the guy who hired 'em.  Said something would be easy.  They had some choice names for him, emaciated shithead and cadaverous cumsmudge stand out.  Arnold shakes his head again.  "Seems they were from out of town, they were talking about going back to Hyrnan once they managed to get out of the prison, but not much else.  I don't know..."   When Magnus asks him to draw the thing he saw, he gladly takes the pencil and paper from Magnus, the same he has been taking notes on for the past days and begins to draw.  He is no artist by any stretch, but the thing that takes shape seems to have the same characteristics as what Arnold has described:  Massive hands, a jaunty frame, and a sadistic look that Magnus suspects may be embellished based on the tarnished, horrifying memory.

Magnus presses for more, for all he can, though it seems Arnold can give him little else.  The man seems exhausted, though not unhappy, nodding along as Magnus explains the deal he has made with the colonel and lays himself down to sleep once Magnus gets up to leave the room.

It was on back to Alice...  She was quick to take offense at the insinuation.

"I'm a midwife.  I sell herbs, not commune with the underworld.  I don't know what that is and I can't help you."

She neatly shoves the picture back towards Magnus, though as she walks away she looks back with a more concerned eye.

"I guess you found what you were looking for?  This have something to do with the thing... the curse that's been going on?"


Arnold's Drawing

Magnus nodded and began to fold the drawing back up. He was tired, and a little frustrated, but it was only the fatigue that bled through into his voice.

"I knew it was a long shot." He shrugged "Didn't mean to offend you or anything, and I'm new to all this...just, gettin' by with asking as many questions as I can of anybody who'll  spare the time to talk to me. It's nothin' personal." he admitted.

"And yeah, as far as I know, this is it." He held up the folded paper. "All of 'em...as far as I can tell lead back to this thing. What it is, where it came from, why it's doin' all this. That's the trick" he stood and put the paper carefully away. "You seem pretty bright, so I figured you'd be my first stop. Sorry if I wasted any of your time." Truth was he was running out of leads again, but he figured he would swing by and see Daneel again, see if anything had changed, if he felt any different, or if he might somehow recognize the drawing. Provided of course that Alice truly did not have any more to say...

"Why it's doing it?"  The comment seems to surprise Alice and she laughs a with a sigh.  "Murder's always the same isn't it?  Anger.  Or else Jealousy.  It's not that,"  She points at the picture as Magnus stashes the thing away on his person.  "You need to find out about, it's the one commanding it.  It's who's angry or jealous enough to make it go out and do such things."

Alice smiles thinly, holding the door, neither inviting Magnus in, nor asking him to leave.

OOC:  It is 1700 on the 8th of August.  I'm not sure if you want to keep this conversation up but I'm holding off in case you do.  If you head back to Daneel, you will find the door locked and the armory quiet.  You can use your key Daneel gave you if you wish to make your way in.