The walls of Raphael loom upward in the fading light of the afternoon.

It was lucky really, that they had made it before sunset.  Though Magnus had seen little antagonism over the past several months, he was all too familiar with the sort of attention that being a lone minotaur, or indeed, bing a minotaur in a small group could garner.  It was precisely the reason that Magnus had waited for Rudyard to make his way back to Raphael, a city that Magnus knew at least a little, a place where he had made a living as a rough hand and guard for a time.  Magnus would wager that if they had attempted to enter after the fall of darkness, he would have no chance of being allowed in the city by the guard, regardless of how well known Rudyard was.

Though Magnus had enjoyed his time with the others, he was looking forward to having a little more direction over his own work.  Accepting lesser risks, even if it meant smaller payoffs.

Overhead, a thick layer of clouds blanketed the sky.  Light grey and thick, they had come along with an immediate respite from the midsummer heat, dropping the temperature noticeably along with the faint rustle of wind.  Magnus could smell the rain coming.  All in all, their timing on getting to the city couldn't have been any better.

"State your purpose!"  A helmeted man at the rampart of the gate calls as the two approach, Rudyard driving his cart and Magnus leading his mule Gus.

"Returning from a supply run to the forts!"  Rudyard calls back.  "Just like every month."  He adds under his breath.

The guards eyes linger overlong on Magnus, pausing for an extended silence before he finally answers back.  "The Archbishop has set a curfew.  None but the watch are to be out after dark.  Make sure you don't break it."

"Curfew?"  Rudyard mutters, mostly to himself.  The cart begins to rumble forward again, heading towards the open gates of Raphael.

OOC: it's 1800 on the 6th of August.  The trip from the fort back to Raphael has been about 10 days.  You don't have a house here in the city, so until you are able to rent a place, you'll have to go looking for for an inn.

No small part of Magnus had wanted to stay at the Fort for a few more weeks. He had wanted to make sure that Giles got back on his feet, he had wanted to help with repairs, but Rudyard was due in Raphael and it would be another month at least before he would come around again, and that was barring any more attacks from the south.

He had wanted to get his armor situation handled, and he had been putting it off for far too long. He remembered the sick feeling when he had kicked himself for not doing it before their trip to the ruins, and now he had no excuse not to finally resolve the matter. He also was due to report to the Armsmans Guild lest they presume him dead.

And so, ten more days on the road, although these ones were a casual stroll compared to the mountains and the jungles. Relatively open, well maintained and safe they seemed to cover ground at speed after all the hot laborious trudging he had done recently.

It was not until they actually sighted Raphael that Magnus felt the familiar pit in his stomach. Any city, especially such a large city, had always been imposing since he was a child. His parents had long ago learned hard lessons about crowds and the "protection" of the law, and Magnus had experienced his own close calls. Make no mistake, he was no safer behind those walls than he was across the border, and at least they had the decency to come at you from the front.

He was not the only oddity to risk the big cities, Goblins, Orcs and Sea Elves among others could be found in the crowds, and while he had heard second hand news of other Minotaurs in Megalos City and a few other places in the Empire, he had never actually met one, if that was any indication of how common they were.

Most folks did not know what to make of him, which he understood to a point. It was not until they called for the Guard or stooped for a stone that he began to get defensive, so to speak.

"Got it" Magnus nodded in affirmation to the news about the curfew. That was the first order of business then, as he would not last long after sunset.

He started close at hand and turned to Rudyard. "I don't suppose you have a spare patch of floor where I can throw down a blanket? I can pay...It's always kind of rough finding an inn. Even just for the night." If the man he had just spent ten days with would not put up with him, he was going to have to get on things quick.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Sat 23 May 2020.

"Ah.."  Rudyard stops, looking at Magnus.  Clearly he had not been expecting the question of Magnus sleeping at his residence, and as soon as that first tepid word was out of his mouth, Magnus was fairly sure the answer was no.

"Sorry."  Rudyard sighs, confirming Magnus's suspicions.  "I would, but I'm already two weeks later than I'm supposed to be, an I'm sure I'll catch hell from the missus like it's my fault.  I can't imagine me suggesting you spend the night would go over well...  No offense."  Rudyard looks down, holding off from looking Magnus in the face for a moment.

"You shouldn't be too bad off though."  Rudyard points up along the main road.  "The Red Lion is pretty accommodating to travelers.  It's not the best place by any stretch, but it'll have room for Gus and it doesn't do enough business to turn you down.  The White Heart is on the way, probably less likely to have a room, and William can be a bastard at times, but no sense in passing it by.  You'll be fine."

Rudyard waves at Magnus, turning his cart over towards the left, and away from the main road.

 

Alone, really alone, for the first time in months.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had made the acquaintance of the others. Finn, Giles, Gustav, Rondald and Terri, and of course Judoc. When he had been introduced first hand to the wonder and terror magic, and seen "behind the curtain" at how awesome and yet how fragile a real Mage could be. Grizzled sailor with wife in tow, and a swordsman from the south who had been forced to learn quickly that these uncouth northerners still wore steel instead of silk.

The memory of it made him smile in a nostalgic, lonely kind of way.

The problems he faced now were like old friends in themselves. Find a place to sleep, avoid the curfew and the patrols, handle your business and get the hell out.

There were a few rough strategies he had developed over time. The first was to find something, anything, to get through the night and to start fresh in the morning.

The second was to find his end goal, in this case the Angel Armory, and to work outward from there. This kept his wanderings to a smaller section of the city. Ideally he could lie low, eat, sleep and go about his business while limiting his exposure on the street to a few minutes at a time.

With the rain coming, and the light fading, he was inclined to go with the former.

If The White Heart was on the way, and close by, that would work. If that failed the Red Lion would be his alternative.

Magnus took a few moments to slide his coin pouch around to the front left side where he could protectively cover it with his shield, and then with a deep resigned breath, he made his way down the street where Rudyard had pointed.

Shifting his things on his waist, Magnus presses on down the street, looking for some sign of the two inns he had been recommended.  The wide thoroughfare guides first past a large marketplace, already closing for the day, though some of the merchants still linger, removing their wares and goods to a cart, or else closing the fronts of their stores.  Magnus receives a few apprehensive looks, though he has enough experience not to pay them any mind.  If they were going to make trouble for him, they would be casting far more than stares.

The cobbles pass by underneath Magnus's feet, and the street seems to climb ever so slightly as the buildings become larger and more well cared for.  At the end of the market a large street circle encompasses a massive cathedral, decked with stained glass and sculptures that climb several stories into the air.  Magnus follows the main street, which edges off towards the right.

Here the street is thick with established businesses, the buildings abutting each other or else close enough to only leave a narrow alley between.  Magnus even notices a squat building of white stone that bears the sign of Angel Armory, though the door is closed with no evidence of activity within.  Only a stone's throw farther on, Magnus notices another large sign of cut wood, painted white with the words White Heart.

OOC:  If you intend to ask for a room, roll a normal reaction, with all your negative modifiers.

Magnus approached the door of the White Heart, briefly looked up at the sign board, and then gently opened the front door.

He left a faint trail of droplet as he entered, and looked about as he approached the proprietor. "Evenin'" he greeted them with a smile and a nod. "I was hopin' to get a room?" he asked, leaving the option open to simple be on his way rather than cause a fuss.

Magnus ties up Gus on the street before entering the main door of the large inn.

The main room of the inn is set up like a large tavern, with a recessed floor a few steps on spread with tables.  To Magnus's right is the bar right is the bar, several seats long with a handful of bottles resting on a backwall along with a large barrel which is tapped at the bottom.  Magnus is somewhat unhappy to see that the room is packed.  Nearly every table has at least one patron, with a few sporting four or five men engaged in a loud, boisterous conversation that meld together into a single, indiscernible hum.  Even the bar seems crowded, with each of the six seats taken.  A serving girl swirls past tables, a large tray with a handful of drinks balanced on one hand.  Behind the bar a greying man with a close shaved beard takes a particular interest in Magnus as he walks in.

The bar seemed as good of a place as any to start.

Magnus approaches the man, and he feels the all too familiar sensation of conversations dying down, of watchful eyes pressing on the back of his neck.  Magnus's request is simple, leaving plenty of room for refusal without leading to a confrontation.  It is possibly a good thing.

The grey haired man shakes his head, with the trace of a smirk lighting on his lips.  "Nothing left."  The man says simply, leaning an arm on an open space at the bar.  The man has a muscled forearm, and though his skin is free of many of the signs of aging, his eyes are deep set with sallow, dark pools hovering below.  He gives Magnus the impression of a younger man aged well past his days.  "Even the common's full up.  You should try the Red Lion.  Five blocks on.  They're more like to take you."

"Fair enough, appreciate it." Magnus turned and began to make his way back outside. It had taken him longer to hitch Gus than it had to get rejected, but he was not surprised. Maybe it was full? There were plenty of people in there. Or maybe it wasn't...

Either way, he would not be sleeping at the White Heart. As much as he was hoping to be close to Angel Armory, at least he still had a chance. Both Rudyard and William had practically guaranteed that the Red Lion would take him. But why he wondered? Was it that desperate for paying customers? Or was there some other reason?

He would find out soon enough. He moved to unhitch Gus and get a move on before it got any later.

Magnus turns and retreats from the room, pulling the loop of Gus's lead rope from his tie and leading him on down the main thoroughfare of Raphael.

Though the distance is not far in comparison to what he has already walked, It seems to Magnus to be the slowest part of his day.  The city slowly turns, first the houses shrink in size, then their upkeep seems to degrade, so that here and there Magnus sees cracks in their walls and overhangs that are sagging with rotted wood.  The street too, seems to turn with disrepair.  The cobbles seem to spread farther as the cart ruts sink deeper into the stone.  Here and there fragments of rock are broken and turned upward in the lane.  Though it is difficult to tell how close the sun is setting due to the clouds, the light seems to be quickly ebbing from the sky...

The red lion is not difficult to find, for it too has a sign that hangs out into the street, though this one has no words, just a carving of a lion's head and mane pained red.  Magnus hangs Gus's lead rope on a post, just in case he is unlucky here as well, and makes his way into the inn.

The inside seems much less cozy than the White Heart.  The main room is smaller, and the air is stale, with a few tables that sit empty in the middle of the floor.  The meager light in the room ebbs in from a few small windows and is supplemented by a small oil lamp that hangs near a desk on the far side of the room.  At the desk sits an older man, his skin wrinkled and spotted with brownish pittings that rise over his forehead and across his bald scalp, what little scraggle he does have across his face is faded to the palest white.

"What can I do for you?"  The man asks as Magnus approaches.

OOC:  Another reaction roll please.

Magnus felt the floor creak ominously as he stepped up onto the landing, the old brittle wood barely tolerating his armored bulk. As he dipped his head inside and saw the state of the accommodations he suddenly felt tired, this was definitely more akin to what he was accustomed to, and given the lack of any patrons, his hopes were buoyed a bit that he might actually be able to get a room.

His steps felt thunderous as he made his way towards the older man, and he lowered his broad shaggy head a fraction. "Good evening. I was hoping to get a room?" he tried again. If this fell through he would be in real trouble, the local watch would probably not take kindly to vagrancy, and the locals in general would probably notice a lone traveler out in a rough neighborhood.

Experience suggested that he not to get his hopes up.

18:37, Today: Magnus rolled 4 using 3d6-4.  Reaction Roll: The Red Lion (Hideous -4).
This message was last edited by the player at 02:19, Sat 30 May 2020.

As Magnus steps forwards into the dim light of the oil lamp, the man at the counter reacts visibly, shuddering backwards for a moment before stepping back up to the desk.  He looks for all purposes like he is going to throw Magnus out of the room, though he hesitates, his eyes sizing up the minotaur...

"You'll have to have your own room."  The man starts, "No one's going to want to sleep in the commons with you.  And I'll need a deposit."  The man's eyes float up in his eyes for a moment like he is making mental calculations, before he looks at Magnus full in the eyes.  "So ninety.  A night."

In the momentary silence that follows, the man's eyes stray upward to Magnus's horns, staring at the natural weapons of death as if second guessing his choice, though he does not add to or modify his offer.

OOC:  Ouch on the reaction roll.  The hotel price is ludicrous of course, and you are welcome to turn him down, though you aren't sure how much daylight you have left (the clouds make things difficult) nor do you know of another hotel.  You could 'camp' somewhere within the walls, or leave the city and camp outside, though you don't like fiddling with things like mandatory curfews (nobody has ever given you the benefit of the doubt) and you aren't sure what your reaction is going to get you if you try entering the city tomorrow by yourself.  If you do decide to stay here at the lion, make a roll vs. HT-2.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:55, Mon 01 June 2020.

Magnus felt what was left of his pride rear up. He had been out there, risking his life, day after day, serving alongside the legion, fighting Wazifi, and statues, bugs and an honest to God demon...and here he was about to fritter away what little he had to his name on a night in a dilapidated tenament.

He could buy a lot of things for ninety. A brand new axe ran nearly half that.

But was it worth an altercation with the guard? Was it worth being forced to wander the streets or getting turned away at the gate in the morning? No...no, it wasn't.

Magnus heaved a sigh as he reached into his pouch and looked down as he counted out the coin. He set it down without enthusiasm. "Which one?" was his reply.

With any luck he might be able to find something else in the morning, or more realistically the proprietor of Angel Armory would run him off with a pair of hot tongs and he could simply leave the city. He could think of worse things.

Magnus rolled 12 using 3d6.  HT -2. Failure by 2, unless you count Fit

Though Magnus counts the coin as he lays them on the table, the man behind the desk takes the time to count them out again, a clear sign of a lack of trust.

"Four."  The man says when he is finally satisfied, taking one of the pennies from the group and examining it more closely under his hand.  He takes a key hanging on the wall behind him and places it on the counter which Magnus takes, unable to offer up even a forced word of thanks.

Almost as an afterthought, Magnus asks on Gus.

The innkeeper hesitates for a moment, then looks at Magnus's horns again before he speaks.  "There's a stable round back.  I don't have a stable hand, so you'll have to clean the stall yourself."

Gritting his teeth, Magnus hopes this will be his last interaction with the man.

---

The next morning at the dawn, Magnus is already on his way out of the hotel, thunking the key back on the desk unceremoniously, not trusting himself to even attempt a conversation.  Despite the innkeeper's protests that he has to look at the room first, Magnus is well on his way out the door with Gus before the man would even have a chance to open the room up again.

Magnus is fuming.  Never in his life has he paid so much for such an inadequate accommodation.  It had been perhaps a few hours before the dawn when he had woken up, a stinging sensation on the soft flesh of one nostril wresting him from his sleep with a start.  He was still groggy, he couldn't seem to put it together until he saw a flick of black motion speed across his eye and felt the hair of his eyebrow bristle.  Then, it was clear.

His bed had fleas.

If it had not been for the curfew, Magnus would have left long before, for even as he had removed himself to the floor, his sleepiness was too far gone for him to catch any more sleep - and by now the fleas had managed to get all over him.  It was only due to the miracle of his own thick skin that he had likely gotten any sleep in the first place.

Magnus led Gus up the street, the thick rains from the night still lingering, splashing down heavy sheets of water that soaked Magnus's clothes and stuck Gus's hair fast to his skin.  At least the weather would mean he had fewer people to deal with.

As Magnus makes his way back into the better parts of town, he notices some of the shops opening their doors, and merchants sweeping the puddles of water out their doors and back into the street.  But as he approaches Angel Armory, Magnus notices the door is still closed, and the rain beats at the white stone and its windows.

OOC:  It is 0630 on the 7th of August.  I took some liberties to keep things moving, hope it wasn't too out of character for you.  Fit did count in your roll, as did the +3 from your tough skin (it was originally a HT-5) and the minor fail only ended in a little bit of lost sleep.  You are at -1 FP from the rotten conditions.  It's probably irrelevant though, so I haven't edited your sheet for it.

Magnus felt worry creep into his mind as he suspected that the Angel Armory was still closed this late in the day. Perhaps the proprietor had been drawn away on business? Or come down with some illness? It would be just his luck.

The Minotaur sloshed through a deceptively deep puddle where a few cobblestones had been displaced and then approached to get a closer look. Idly he scratched at his scalp, not even certain if he was being bitten any more, but his mind wary all the same.

As he drew near, he wiped a dark, sodden lock of fur from his brow to clear his eyes and urged the miserable Gus along behind him as he went.

Magnus draws closer to the pale white building, wondering if there is some deeper reason as to why the smithy is still closed.  The large building has two windows at the front, low enough for Magnus to peer into the room beyond.

Though the glass is not perfect, it is easy enough to see within.  Near the back of the room, Magnus can see long tables set against the wall.  Here and there, small objects sit upon the tables.  Higher on the back wall, a large painting is hung, which seems to be a full body portrait of some sort, though Magnus cannot make out the small details.

As he glances in the window, Magnus can see the soft blur of motion out of the corner of his eye.  What appears to be man is moving about the back wall, his back turned as he stoops slightly to the level of the display tables.

Magnus was not certain is his eyes were playing tricks on him at first, but the longer he stared, the more confident he became that there was in fact somebody inside. He felt some hope kindle in his breast that the whole errand had not been for nothing and moved about to knock on the door.

He elected for a light wrap that would still be audble over the storm, and hoped that the shock of his appearance would not prohibit doing business. As he waited, he took shelter beneath the eave and moving his satchel around in front protectively, there he opened the flap and further sheltered the contents with his body as he made the thick envelope he had received from Major Brashear, and the parchment within was still close at hand.

Seeing someone within the store, Magnus raps politely on the door, careful not to startle... that is, at least, not until he walks inside.  Rather than the door opening however, Magnus hears a deep but soft voice call "come in!"  The minotaur thumbs his letter from Major Brashear to make sure it is close at hand before girding himself and stepping within the door.

Magnus had meant to start his speaking as soon as he had walked in the door but for a moment, he finds himself unable, for he is struck dumb for a moment by the combined effect of the work within.

It is not so much the number of items for there are only but few.  A pair of gauntlets sit on the display table, a brightly polished set of steel pauldrons some few feet away.  Above a wooden door on the back wall, a two handed sword hangs on pegs.  The only other item of note is the large painting that Magnus had seen from the window, a full suit of exotic armor that Magnus cannot claim to be familiar with.

No, it is not the quantity of items, but the particular suit of armor on the painting that jumps out at him from a distance.  It seems to be woven steel and wood, which bends to accommodate the limbs, though with stiff, flat pads to reinforce the places most vulnerable to injury.  The armor is impossibly intricate in design but seems marvelously simple in function even if it is a bit over elaborate - and Magnus cannot come to terms with whether the seeming ingenuity of it is because of an incredible painter, or if it was a real bit of armor that just worked that well.  It only drew Magnus's attention all the more that the helmet in the work of art had horns protruding from each side.  Horns nearly exactly like his own.

As Magnus stalls just beyond the doorway, the man at the back of the shop steps forward.  He is no Megalan for sure, though neither does he look like one of the Wazifis from the south, nor any of the tribes that Magnus has learned of from the Northern lands.  Instead, the man's face is slightly flattened, his cheekbones wide and proud with thin wisps of long black hair and a closely cropped beard that are flecked here and there with grey.  Though the man looks only middle aged, and his body appears strong at first glance, his face is pale, his eyes sunken and dark, and his body hunched precariously over a cane which he grasps with both hands.

"Welcome."  The man says in his soft, rich voice.  He steps forward, pushing the cane first as he hobbles forward in an ungainly walk.

"There are so few customers these days.  Though there is not much left.  Perhaps you are interested in Wyrm's Tongue?"  He gestures toward the two-handed sword hanging on the wall.

OOC:  Inspecting any of the pieces, and making an armory roll at a +5 bonus will reveal that all of the pieces are of exceptional quality.


Something close to the painting on the wall

Magnus entered the work shop cum armory with characteristic humility. He had been expecting to meet a master craftsman, and his entire errand rested on convincing such a craftsman to accept his commission for a helmet, but what he found surprised him to such an extent that he found himself at a loss for words.

He had never seen a man like this one, but oddly enough, he was fairly sure his Father had. In his many stories he had described the varieties of human peoples that inhabited the northern taiga alongside the Orcs and other smaller populations. Bjorn's people had figured prominently, pale skinned, red or yellow haired, with muscular bodies. But there had been others, including those with narrow eyes, dark haired and small framed much like an Elf. They were said to be fearless, and to be masters of the horse without equal. It was not what he had been expecting.

But there was the shop itself as well, the painting included. Magnus was struck by the strangeness of the armor in a way that an experienced hand is confronted by something he had never before encountered. The Minotaur had encountered, eaten meals with and shared campfires with all sorts of fighting men bearing all sorts of equipment and weaponry. From eastern spears to the dueling swords of the south he considered himself fairly experienced, but he had never seen anything remotely like this.

"Good morning sir." Magnus began, and gave a deep nod of his broad shaggy head. He was still holding the letter a little awkwardly. At the question he glanced to the magnificent sword and smiled faintly. "It's impressive, but...some people take issue with my kind wearing swords." he explained casually.

"I've come a long way to find you...there is a Lieutenant in the Legion who assured me that you make the best stuff he had ever seen." Magnus presented the letter "I've always had trouble getting things made, but I was wondering if you might be willing to take a commission for a helmet?" subconsciously he glanced to the painting once more.

At Magnus's suggestion that some men do not like his kind with large weapons, the man's lips edge ever slightly upwards, giving the faintest of smiles as he appraises Magnus with searching eyes.  "Some men do not like that others are stronger than they are."

It is as Magnus asks for a commission though, that the man's smile spreads, then seems to hit a breaking point where it mingles with a pain that spreads across his features like a miasma.  He notices Magnus glancing upwards towards the painting and follows his glance there for a moment before answering.  "What that I could..."  The man turns, his cane held in two hands as he steps cautiously and slowly back in the store.

"I am Daneel, Artisan.  Master of my craft."  The man speaks softly, not bothering to turn his head back as he speaks.  "But I have lost my strength and my health in the prime of my artistry.  I am a cursed man.  My fire has been cold for two months.  I haven't the strength to lift my hammer and my body recoils from the heat of the furnace.  I have lost everything.  Ever since Margerie threw herself into the Conn, I have been cursed.  Selling what little is left in the store to keep myself alive while I can."

Daneel stops before the painting, attempting to righten his hobbled body, pushing his cane down into the floor with both hands as he straightens his back.

"If I could only work again."

But the effort seems to exhaust him, and he slumps forward a step, sinking his body onto the display table with a thud.

Magnus moved forward to catch the man before Daneel let the table take his weight. He was not fast enough, but it brought him nearer to the distraught craftsman.

He glanced around, and having found a chair, he brought it nearer and set it behind Daneel with a soft scuffing sound. As he considered his words, he moved back around in front of the man and leaned against a large anvil as he crossed his thick arms.

"I'm sorry to hear it." he began softly. "I...don't know much about curses." he admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "But I've known my fair share of guys down on their luck."

He drew his head up and looked out the window at the pouring rain. "You like tea?" he asked. He still had some of the stuff they had brought back from the spoils in the jungle, a little old, but serviceable.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:23, Sat 13 June 2020.

Daneel smiles, pushing himself back up to a tenative stand, though he still leans fully on his cane.  "Yes.  You are kind."  It is not so much of a complement, but a statement, a sort of affirmation.  "Come."

On unsteady legs, Daneel leads the way through his back door, and into a single room which seems to serve both as his forge and his living space.  One side of the room has all the tools of his trade, heavy leather gloves and aprons, a squat forge which has a massive vent funneled through the wall, hammers, and anvils, with a large basin of coal and a wall stacked with dry wood.  The other side of the room has a low bed, a small stove a few hanging pots and pans along with a cupboard, wardrobe, and a small table with two chairs.

Daneel ushers Magnus to a small table, while he pulls down a hanging kettle, filling it with some water from an urn before setting it on the stove.  He brings a teapot as well, setting it in front of Magnus.  Within a few minutes, Magnus has set his tea in the basket and the hot water is poured, swelling the dry leaves as they steep, setting the whole room with a floral aroma.

"She was a sweet girl."  Daneel begins, pouring the pot into two cups after removing the basket of tea.  "She worked here most mornings when I had commissions to make.  When things were busy, she would run the the store while I tended the forge.  When things were slow, I would show her how to make molds for the soft metals, how to keep the forge hot enough.  I think she liked it here.  She had mentioned she was interested in making jewelry one day..."  Daneel slows for a moment, taking a sip of his tea.

"At the beginning of the winter, seven or eight months ago was when things started to change.  She came in one morning, pale as can be and not able to eat so much as a morsel.  She couldn't work.  I told her to lay down in the back.  Thought she was sick from drink."  Daneel sighs.

"She was pregnant."  Daneel punctuates the statement by taking another sip of his tea.

"Of course, it's not that odd in a city like this, but Margerie seemed distraught by it.  I kept her on, but she came by less often...  she worked other jobs.  The rumors started.  She has no family here, perhaps that would have helped.  Most people thought I was the father.  I think it upset Margerie as much as it did me, if nothing else it kept her from spending too much time here.  Three month ago one of the farmers pulled her body from the edge of the Conn, her face swollen and blue from drowning..."

Daneel's jaw sets forward and shuts his eyes, letting the silence take over for a moment as he pulls his cup to his lips again.  He sets the mug down, shaking his head for several moments before he continues.

"There have been plenty of rumors about that too...  It didn't take long before the curse came.  It's tied to her no doubt.  I am being punished for something I am innocent of."

Daneel looks at Magnus, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away.  "If you break the curse, I will make your helmet - free of charge."

OOC:  I didn't remember your having tea from another adventure, nor did I see it on the character sheet, but it seemed too good of an angle not to give it to you.

Magnus took a cup of the somewhat rust colored beverage and settled onto a sturdy stool with the steaming beverage cradled in his large hands. Tea, much like coffee yet less expensive, was a luxury they had seldom come across when he had been growing up. That far north ciders and spiced wine had been far more common.

He listened to Daneel's tale. It was a little odd in his mind for such an experienced craftsman to take on a single young girl as an apprentice, for jewelry making at that, but if orders were as slow as he had said it did make some sense. And then to become pregnant...it was true that Magnus did not see any evidence of "Missus Daneel", but he was not one to hold that against him. The Minotaur of all people knew how hard it was to find someone when you were the only one of your "kind" around. More importantly, Magnus had a good feeling about this man in his gut, and that counted for far more than idle speculation.

But when the man made the offer to work for free if Magnus should be able to lift the curse, he was a little surprised. Magnus believed in curses of course, he had smashed the life out of an honest to God demon, so the existence of curses seemed plausible if anything. But finding the source and lifting it would require...investigation. It was not exactly his forte.

That being said, if somebody was cursing innocent men and needed to be brought it, that did fall under the purview of the Armsman Guild in a fashion, it was more along the lines of going out for a Bounty, but work was work. The helmet was going to be pricey, so it seemed like fair pay.

Magnus sipped his tea. "I'm willing to try." he agreed with a nod. "But I'm spending more than I can afford on a place to sleep at the moment. If you'd be willing to put me up at a fair rate, and let me stable my mule, I can look into your curse." he took a deep breath and rubbed at his chin. "Do you have parchment? I'm probably gonna need to take some notes."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:22, Sun 14 June 2020.

Daneel nods at Magnus's words.  "I do not have much here, but you are welcome to stay.  I have a small place where we can put up your mule.  And there's a ledger just there."  Daneel points to the wardrobe, where a large book and thin pencil of charcoal lay.  "You can feel free to take a page out of the back."

OOC:  Daneel is willing to put you up for free, though he doesn't really have a bed for you.  Gus will also be taken care of.  In game terms, don't sweat the admin from this point on, but let me know if you have any questions.  I would like to know what of your equipment you plan on taking with you as you are doing your 'investigating' though.  Remember that heavy weaponry and armor (anything much more than a cane or staff) can increase your negative reaction modifiers, which in your case could make a bad problem even worse.  Feel free to ask whatever questions you have of Daneel IC.

After Gus had been brought in from the storm and unloaded, Magnus set up the small living space where he would likely be spending the next few evenings at the least.

Ironically if there was one place that he did not have to worry about his expensive arms or armor going missing, it was the Angel Armory. His chain hauberk, along with his shield were laid aside neatly. His bulky leather gloves were left behind, but he retained his coveted mace in his satchel. While having a shorter weapon was somewhat of a disadvantage against say, a sword, at least it packed well and was handy in a packed formation or crowd.

That left him in his "street clothes", which was little more than a thick green woolen tunic that came to his knees, hose, his belt and satchel. A light plaid half cloak was the only ornamentation and the lot was wrinkled or pulled from being packed away or being work under his armor.

He felt incredibly light on his feet after the long miles under heavy burden.

When he was changed and unpacked, he turned to the business at hand, and asked Daneel all he knew about Margerie, where she lived, her family and friends, the places that she frequented as well as the state and Location in which her body had been discovered. He plied the pen and ink in his rough blocky script as he took notes for his own benefit, and endeavored to listen more than he spoke.

Just taking his satchel, with the mace concealed within.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:36, Mon 15 June 2020.

Magnus settled in quickly to his new temporary lodgings and got to the business of finding out what he could of Margerie.  Unfortunately, despite Daneel's long discussion and many personal feelings on the subject, he gets little in the way of verifiable fact.  Her surname was Bayle, and she had no family in the area.  When Magnus had pushed slightly on the subject (She had no family here?  She was all by herself?) Daneel only became defensive and repeated the assertion with a sort of stony resolve.  It seemed that she had worked some other jobs after, and possibly even before she had become pregnant to make ends meet.  Daneel had heard that she had taken up washing duties at the court from time to time as well as serving at the White Heart.

As for her body, Daneel has little to offer here.  He restates that a farmer was the one who found her body, pulling her from the Conn about a mile downstream from the city docks.  When Magnus asks on the state of her person, Daneel says that her skin and face were bloated and pale, slightly blued from the water.  There was no evidence of other injury and the locals seemed to accept that she had died by suicide.  In any case there had been no attempt to investigate any sort of foul play.  Daneel notes that she was distraught and preoccupied after she learned of the pregnancy and he doesn't disagree with the possibility she had taken her life.

OOC:  Feel free to ask specific questions if you wish or we can keep going with generalities.  It's still pretty early in the morning, on the order of about 0730.

Magnus had never served with a Vigiles, nor had he ever had any cause to assist any of the myriad officials that were charged with looking into crime. Up till this point in his life he had either been paid to stand around and look menacing, or to get violent when the situation called for it.

Now, under the circumstances, he was having to tax his brain power a bit. Part of him enjoyed it in fact, the trust that was placed in him to comprehend these sorts of things and to follow the threads to a logical conclusion. He was not going to pretend he was good at it, but it was a refreshing change of pace.

On the face of things it looked fairly typical. Young girl moves to the big city, realizes it's harder than she had imagined it to be. Gets worn down working multiple jobs, winds up pregnant out of wedlock, and either kills herself to avoid the shake of it all, or winds up in a rough crowd. It happened all the time.

But there were niggling details that bothered him. Everyone came from somewhere, and it was generally one of the first things people spoke about when they made introductions. Margerie Bayle had parents out there somewhere, and a home town, and a reason she had wound up in the city. Daneel had to know at least some of these things, but why obscure them?

Especially from the one entrusted to lift a curse that was supposedly ruining his life?

The places of employment were good, although part of him dreaded going back to the White Heart. But work was only one facet of this girl's life...where were the others?

Magnus asked about any of the girls friends, if she had been seeing anybody and where she lived.

But he also asked more specifically about the farmer, if Daneel recalled his name or where he lived. Finding a body was a traumatic event, and the man could be willing to discuss it if only to get it off his chest...or, perhaps time had allowed him to develop his own questions about the girl he had found.

Though Daneel does try to fill in the details where Magnus sees the hole in the story the further information he provides seems almost entirely limited to his interaction with the girl in the store.

He surmises, more than anything, that Margerie was friendly with the other servers at the Heart, an age group that was more in line with her generation than his.  As for her seeing someone, Daneel continues his cycle of mixed guilt and defensiveness.  He repeats that everyone seems to think he is the father, that he has nothing to do with it apart from trying to give his workers a slightly better life.

Magnus surmises that the girl wasn't openly seeing anyone in any case, otherwise the rumors would be less focused on her simple proximity to an older man.

Daneel does give Magnus the general part of town where Margerie lived, and relays that it was a small room in a larger boarding house.  Margerie had mentioned some of the other girls there before... perhaps they could provide more information?

As for the farmer, Daneel relays the name quickly, Valan, though it takes him a little longer to come up with the details of where the man lived and worked.  Apparently, Valan was a sharecropper on some of the Archbishop's larger land holdings.  Daneel had seen the man before in the market, though he had not been the one to speak with him when he found the body.  Magnus gets a general idea of where the farm is, enough to get him close.

OOC:  Sorry the detail here isn't great, I'm trying to give you a general idea of the information you have in the sort of summary format we are working with, without having to plan an entire city.  Margerie lives in the lower classes part of town, though outside of the slums, in a small boarding house style lodging.  Daneel doesn't know who else lives there, but he gives you a good idea of where it is.  As for the farmer, he knows who the man is, mostly due to the story that has been passed around about him finding the body, though not a lot of specifics on exactly where to find him.  You do know that you'll have to walk outside the gates to get there, which will require a reaction roll from the guards on the way back in.  Let me know if you have any other general or specific questions, or where you want to take things from here.

Magnus thanked his his host and employer, having felt that he had reached a good stopping point in his questioning. He could also come back and clarify some things if need be after all.

Now, feeling almost nude after so long in armor, Magnus exited the Angel Armory and made his way practically across the street towards the White Heart to see about Margerie's employment there.

Privately Magnus was glad that he had not raised a fuss the night before, as it would surely have been awkward now that he was asking for information.

He approached from the back, hoping to catch one of their employees out of sight of the main floor, and to avoid causing any sort of scene.

Feeling uncertain about his prospects with entering the White Heart again, Magnus takes  a more circular route, finding an alleyway that goes around to the back.  Fighting a musty smell of decomposing waste, Magnus finds what seems to be the inn's back door, squared with the backs of several other local shops.  Magnus perches there for a moment, though he does not have long to wait before the inn's door has opened.

A young woman, garbed in a shabby brown dress that falls to her ankles and a thick dirty apron on top carries out a large clay pot, nearly as wide as her own torso.  At first the girl doesn't seem to notice Magnus, and hurries out the door with her burden, which seems to slosh with each of her steps.  She makes her way to a grated drain on the side of the street, pouring the contents down as she averts her head, eyes closed.  It is only when she stands back up again that she notices Magnus a dozen paces away.

"Good Lord!"  The woman gasps, clutching her heart with a hand as the pot drops to the street, splattering a few droplets as it clatters and rolls a foot or so away.

When Magnus holds up his hands in innocence, the woman seems to regain her composure after a moment, clutching back her pot before starting back towards the door in a huff.

"What are you doing sneaking up on a girl like that!  Don't you know there's a murderer loose!  Nearly scared me to death!"

OOC:  Due to the nature of the module, I'll be making the reaction rolls for you.  It will have significant bearing on the information you get, and I'd rather you not have a heads up if information is particularly good or bad.  That being said, if you want to use a social skill, you may do so once per interaction, and then make the appropriate roll.

Magnus had not counted on scaring the poor girl, and so he put on his most conciliatory expression in an attempt to smooth things over.

"Sorry, sorry. I know, I have that effect sometimes." he admitted with his hands raised in a placating way. "My names Magnus, I'm looking into the death of Magerie Bayle. If I could just have a few minutes of your time, I'm just looking for the basics, what she was like, if she had gotten into trouble with anybody...did you know her?"

He asked. He knew he was working on the clock with this one, she would be expected back to her duties scrubbing pots or pouring ale or whatever it was she was paid to do. So he got right down to the point. He was sure she did not want to spend a lot of time in his company anyway, so he phrased it as such to where if she just answered a few questions he would leave her in peace.

"Magerie?"  The girl says, pausing for a moment on her way to the door as she bites her lip.  "Yeah, I knew her...  Look, I'm busy.  What about you come in the normal way and order something to eat.  Once I'm done with the empty rooms I'll stop by and we can talk."

"Sounds good" Magnus agreed, and jerked his broad shaggy head towards the establishment. "I'll see you in there."

The Minotaur walked back around to the front, and half expecting to be thrown out for the impetuousness of attempting service a second time, he passed through the front doors and looked to the proprietor once more. "Morning...it alright if I come in to a grab a bite?" he asked, already reaching for his purse.

Magnus agrees, and walks slowly around the front of the bar, giving the girl plenty of time to stay ahead of him.  When he does eventually enter, the girl meets him near the door and ushers him towards a seat.

The White Heart does not seem nearly as busy in the morning as it had been on the previous evening.  One patron sits at a solitary table, eating a bowl of thick porridge or stew and the same man from last night stands at the counter.

Magnus asks politely to sit, and the innkeeper responds with a half smirk and a not towards the tables.

"We've got in most of it fresh from the baker's this morning."  The girl explains gesturing towards a large scrawl of chalk written directly on a wall.

"Just think on what you want, Mr. Howell can set you up and I'll be back when I've cleaned out the empties."

The girl whisks off towards a staircase near the edge of the room, grabbing her large pot before ascending.

"Sorry for last night."  The innkeeper says from the desk in a voice that seems mostly devoid of any real sympathy.  "Big crowd last night, I think the rain mighta kept a few people longer than they had planned.  What can I get for you?"

OOC:  Menu of the White Heart

2f  Pint of Ale
3f  Pint of Beer
10f Mug of Wine
20f Mug of Spirits
3f  Venison pastie
5f  Roasted rabbit with bread sauce
6f  Lamb stew with chicken and raisins
8f  Baked fish with spices and prunes
4f  Apple fritters
4f  Spiced Custard

Magnus settled in with an easy, forgiving demeanor. His life had been difficult enough without holding grudges or walking around like he was owed something. "It's not a problem, I get it." he assured the proprietor. "You're running a business" Even if the man was just being polite, and Magnus had been kicked out because of who he was, that was alright too. It was not the first time, and it would not be the last.

"Could I get a pint of beer, the lamb stew and one of those fritters?" he asked next time the girl came around. He was looking forward to all of it with relish, and even if he could not finish the fritters, they would pack well for the rest of the days work. And besides, it never hurt things to throw around a little money.

With that he settled in, and casually waited for the girl he had spoken with to come around so they could get down to business about Margerie.

The girl nods with the order and walks back by the innkeeper before sweeping back towards the the back of the inn, presumably to keep cleaning.  As for the innkeeper, he merely raises an eyebrow before leaving the desk for a moment.

Several minutes later, the man brings a large plate by Magnus's table with his order.

Magnus eats slowly, knowing that he likely has some time before the maid returns.  Above all, he doesn't want the conversation to be rushed, for surely she had other things to do, and Magnus sitting at the table with an empty plate would be an easy way to end the conversation.  It is not an easy task, for as the lamb stew hits his palate, he immediately starts salivating as the sweet and savory mix with a meat so tender it falls apart as it hits his mouth.

Magnus sits back, enjoying the stew and putting down a healthy swig of the beer as he waits.

It is perhaps ten minutes later when the girl finally returns, her face in somewhat of a scowl, though she makes an attempt to brighten up as she sits down at the table across from Magnus.

"Sorry, the man in twelve is something of an ass.  Wants his room cleaned but never wants to leave it."  She rolls her eyes in an exhausted fashion before putting her attention back on the minotaur.  "As for Margerie, what did you want to know?  She was a sweet girl, worked here on the feast days.  Shame as what's happened to her."

OOC:  Sorry, I've just realized that I may have induced some confusion.  The girl's name is Margerie Bayle.  Somewhere along the line we both seemed to have dropped the first 'r'.  I'm not fussed over it, I just want to make it clear that there isn't any particular significance to the fact that the spelling has shifted a little."

Magnus, who had slept quite well in the comfort of the Angel Armory, found himself in a wonderful sort of food induced stupor. The beer was cool and satisfying, the stew just about perfect, and the apple fritter huge and savory. The combination of such a hearty breakfast had him sat back in his chair with his hands lightly entwined on his chest fighting off sleep.

It was such a pleasant little moment, and he smiled knowing that he would relish and recall it when he was baking or freezing in some God forsaken wilderness.

When the girl came back around, with her earnest attempt at friendliness, Magnus wiggled his way into a more upright posture and smiled in turn.

"It was a shame" he agreed with appropriate solemnity. "And also unexpected. Someone who cared for her has asked me to look into things, to sort of get her story together." He explained. "I know she was not here all the time, but did she share much with you? Was she close to anybody here? You're my first stop of the day so I'm just lookin' for the basics mostly, where she lived, who her friends were, who the father might have been. Things like that." He reached into his bag over the course of the last sentence and pulled out his pencil and parchment.

"Well,"  The girl hesitates before trying to answer Magnus's questions, "She didn't normally talk much from what I've seen, though she was under a lot of stress those last few months... so she said her fair share.  I think if she was closest to anybody here it would be mister Howell.  He's here all the time, and he was her boss and all."

The girl cranes her chin up, looking at the wooden ceiling supports for a moment.  "Um, I think she lived in the villein district.  A boarding house over on Pleasant Street.  You know, not the best part of town, but a long way from what she came from...  As for friends, I dunno.  I'd say that she was about as friendly with us as with anybody, stayed after some nights and had a drink with some of the guests... 'fore she knew she was pregnant anyway.  When that happened, she got anxious....  I can understand that.  But it seemed to be more than just worry about the kid or what she was going to do.  It wasn't for want of money for sure, because she was working three jobs, and the court paid her better wages than I've ever seen here.
 Maybe it was the father did or said something.  She never told me...  Last time she was in here, she was downright beside herself.  Empty, seemed like.  I asked her what was wrong and she shook me off, pretended like it weren't nothing, but it was pretty plain.  Wasn't a week after that they found her body in the river."

The girl nods as if confirming her story.  When Magnus asks about the father however, he gets a much more engaged look as the girl leans forward slightly, lowering her voice despite the fact that the room is nearly empty.

"I've been trying to figure that out myself, she never told me.  But rumors flew when it was fresh.  Everybody said it was Master Daneel, but Margerie got upset when people anyone mentioned it.  Some people said that was her tell that they were right, but I don't think it was him.  She got really upset when people pressed her, like she wanted to tell who it was, but she couldn't."

The girl sits back, shaking her head.  "I'm afraid I don't know much more.  Margerie talked plenty, about how much being pregnant sucked, about her job at the armory, about all the gossip and goings on at court, but on her personal life she kept her privacy pretty tight."

OOC:  I know we've slowed down significantly (sorry for that) but as a reminder, you actually slept quite poorly last night at the Red Lion and left just after the dawn.  You only spent a couple hours at Angel Armory and have not slept there yet.  Investigative threads can be pretty complicated in a pbp format, let me know if you want some place to put all your thoughts down in an effort to keep things fresh.
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:45, Thu 06 Aug 2020.

Magnus listened, really listened, and did not touch his paper until after she had finished speaking. He even gave her a long pause at the end to make sure she was done.

When she was finished however, he reached for the ink well, daubed the nib, tapped off the excess and set to work in his widely spaced, blocky script. "My memory's never been the best..." he explained with a little self efacing smile.

When he was done, and his concentration free, he looked back up."You mentioned that boarding house, over on Pleasant Street, and that it was better than where she had come from. Do you know where she was from? Originally?"  he asked.

Magnus had a hunch brewing, down in his gut, but it was unformed thing. He could not quite put it to words, but he felt there was something here. "Did she ever talk much about her time at the Court? What she did there? Who she knew? Any friends? Anybody who might have taken an interest in her?"

"Oh, she was from Raphael."  The girl says simply, leaning back in her seat.  "She didn't talk much about her past."  She pauses for a moment, her eyes shifting in a cockeyed glance to the side and upwards, her facing tensing up in thought.  "... or ever really.  But one of the other servers who was here a time ago knew her from before and blabbed it to a few of us when he was drunk one night.  She grew up in the slums, her and an older sister and their dad who was a real piece of trash."

She sets her jaw to the side, making a slight grimace, though her expression is more sad than anything.

"She ran off when she was young, maybe fourteen, living on her own.  Living rough sometimes.  But she picked herself up."  The girl nods enthusiastically.  "People knew her and liked her.  It didn't matter where she came from."

Magnus asks about the court and again the girl nods.  "She mentioned plenty.  The magistrate sees all the cases from the city, but they only do court on Saturdays.  Margerie would go in on court days, set all the things out, then do the wash after all the Magistrate left."  She looks up at Magnus.  "Sir Alston."  She adds, recognizing the question Magnus is about ready to ask.

"She talked about all the other people there, the lawyers, the hard cases.  You wouldn't believe what some people can do to another person with no prompting...  Though there were plenty who were just trying to keep from being hungry who were sent to labor for thievery..."  The girl quiets for a moment, shaking her head.

"She seemed to know most everybody there, even if only for sharing a few words.  Like I said, people liked her.  She talked about it plenty, though I don't know if had anything to do with her death."  She admits, glancing her eyes back up in Magnus's direction.

More scratching away at the paper, the feather and nib looking comical in the big, calloused hand. The faster he wrote, the harder it would be for him to recognize his own blocky hand later so he tried to slow it down even if it felt like the pauses stretched too long for comfort.

He was down to Mister Howell, which he hoped would wrap things up here. Then there was the farmer who found the body, her home on Pleasant Street, and the Court.

The Court would be last and hopefully not needed at all, as the mention of forced labor reinforced.

"Thanks for that...it helps a lot. Is your Boss free my chance? Mister Howell? You mentioned they seemed pretty close?"

When Magnus asks if Mister Howell is free, the girl inclines her head towards the desk at the same man that had brought Magnus's food a half hour ago.  The man is now sitting at the desk, leaning back in his chair as he gazes at the ceiling.

"Seems it."  The girl laughs slightly as she stands back up, wiping her hands on her apron.  "They were as close as she was with anybody here, though I guess maybe she didn't bear her troubles to him like she did to the other workers.  Anyway, good luck mister."

Magnus nods as the girl retreats back towards her work, and steels himself for his talk with the innkeeper, with the swift refusal of last night still on his mind.

"Looking into Margerie eh?"  The innkeeper asks Magnus with a thin smile on his face.  "I heard something of what you were talking about earlier."  He adds by way of explanation.

"Damn shame what she did, throwing herself in the river like that.  I don't know if she ever swam much swimming in her day, I guess there was only one outcome that was going to happen."  The innkeeper glances down, with a somber expression.

"She was a good kid."  He looks back up at Magnus, "Hard worker, popular, pretty."  Mister Howell cracks a faint smile with a single breath of a quiet laugh.  "Probably too much so.  Attracted quite a few men in her time, especially the older ones."

Howell shakes his head.  "Getting pregnant changed her though.  She was angry and upset at the drop of a hat, left once in the middle of the busiest rush we'd had, crying her eyes out at God knows what."  Howell shakes his head again.

"I didn't begrudge her for it, but that didn't make it any easier."

"Yeah" Magnus replied somberly when the man asked if he was looking into the girls fate. "I'm not sure I could swim that river on a good day, but these don't help" he glanced down a his hooves before he let one drop back to the wooden floor for emphasis.

"I figure it's hard enough moving to a new place, alone, trying to make it work. Keeping your nose to the grindstone and then...pregnant, yeah." he shook his head. "Knowin' that you are workin on a clock, goin' to need to have somebody to look after the babe, another mouth to feed, worn out all the time. And then, yeah...a lot of people don't look well on unwed mothers, or their kids..."

Magnus heaved a sigh. "No wonder she was on edge" he rapped his knuckles on the table top twice then leaned forward again. "I'm gettin' a better picture of who she was, and it sounds like she was pretty thing, probably attracted some attention. But nobody seems to know for sure who her lover was...did she seem the secretive type? Without any family around I can'y see why she would go through the trouble to hide him, ya know?"

Mister Howell nods along with Magnus, agreeing generally with his musings.  When Magnus asks about whether Margerie was secretive, the man shakes his head and poorly suppresses a laugh.

"No."  He says simply.  "She was the type that talked.  It's very unlike her.  Though..."  Howell thinks for a moment, his eyes narrowing in concentration.  "I guess she did have her subjects she weren't one to talk about.  She could keep a secret I guess, and she didn't like people digging into her past.  But she talked about just about everything else, the baby and all.  She probably told me a little too much if I'm honest.  I sent her off to Mother Alice with that sort of gab.  Just wouldn't stand for people asking who the da' was.  Sort of made her angry to tell the truth.  I found out pretty soon just to leave it alone."

Magnus nodded along, listening, and nursing the last of his drink. When there was a natural break in the conversation he leaned forward a little and dropped his volume a few octaves.

"I'm not one to speak ill of the dead, and you don't know me from Adam..." He began. "But when you say too much, what do you mean? You're not saying anything like...heresy right?" He asked in a low tone. He doubted that it was in fact heresy, but with such a large presence of Clergy in the city he intentionally started with something scandalous, something that could lean to excommunication, in hopes that it would encourage to him reveal less severe information in response.

Magnus leans in to Mister Howell, lowering his voice to keep it from carrying, for though the possibility seems out of character, the last thing that Howell had mentioned seemed to note the possibility.

Howell is taken aback, his eyes instantly narrowing at Magnus, though after a heartbeat of awkwardness, he seems to make a connection and begins to laugh loudly.

"No."  Howell leans back in to Magnus, lowering his tone in kind while shaking his head.  "Mother Alice is the midwife, not the priest.  That's Father Litle, at least for us lower folks."

"I'm not married"  Howell begins, keeping his voice low.  "So when I asked her reasons why she was late, or taking breaks of a quarter of an hour in the bathroom, she'd tell me all about it..."  Howell shudders.  "In detail...  So I told her to go to Mother Alice, you know, get something to feel better.  Or at least give her someone to talk to that wasn't me."

Understandably, Magnus himself had not spent a lot of time in the company of pregnant women. They did not frequent the road, or the kind of establishments that he had found himself in, but he had heard of a few example that gave him the jist of what the man was referring to.

"Ah" he nodded twice, and seemed relieved himself as he drew back from their conspiratorial huddle.

The Minotaur looked down at his notes, felt he was missing something, and jotted down the midwife's name and profession.

It didn't add up, he decided as he glanced over his blocky script. This girl was a self starter, took the initiative to leave home, held down multiple jobs dealing with all sorts of people and was well liked as she did it. Stressed, undoubtedly, but to kill herself? She had money, she had options, maybe not all the ones she desired...but to up and throw herself into a river of all things?

His gut said no.

On the other hand he knew of several reasons why a man, especially the father, would take issue. Inheritance was of course the big one, bastards, important bastards, could change the course of history, but there were other mundane reasons, inheritance, jealously, embarrassment, rage.

But he had been wrong before, and could easily be again. He needed a lot more. "Do you know where I can find her? Mother Alice?" Magnus asked with a demeanor that suggested they were almost done.

Howell seems to get the gist that the conversation is almost over and pushes back his seat back in preparation of standing.

"Yeah, she lives in the lowers.  Small place a few blocks off the markets.  Everyone knows her, you can't miss it.  Regular staple of the community."

Howell stands.

"Too bad we didn't have a room for you."  Howell smirks.  "Doesn't seem it now, but every room is full up.  It usually isn't this busy.  I've got one who just sits in his room all day, not seeming to do anything.  Odd."  Howell remarks, giving the idea a moment of thought before he starts moving back towards the desk.  "Anyway.  Feel free to come back.  I'll let you know if there are any rooms that come up."

OOC:  Without going through the detail of giving a street address, you get enough direction that you are confident you can find Mother Alice.

Magnus thanked the proprietor, and assured him that he would back for a beer or a meal some time. The idea of somebody staying in their room all day was not terribly odd to Magnus, but then again he had done the same many times, lying low, burning the hours in relative safety till he was ready to hit the road again.

The day was still young, and he had his destinations firmly in mind.

Her residence, the midwife, the farmer to had found the body, and if absolutely necessary...the Court itself.

With a delightfully full sensation, and feeling light and free without his armor and and weapons belt, he stepped outside with a content sort of expression on his broad, inhuman features.

Being unconsciously possessed of a remarkable ability to orient himself, he fixed the neighborhood of the deceased firmly in his mind and struck out at a lumbering walk.

Before he got too far, he found a quiet spot and dropped the majority of his wealth into the mouth of his gurgling  water skin, a little trick he had learned long ago to help protect himself from robbery.

It was a determined sort that would assault a Minotaur in broad daylight, but he was unarmored and not looking to get into a fight or cause a scene unless it wad unavoidable. And besides, he was in a strange city and who knew what the local brigands were like? Every destination had them after all.

Magnus takes stock of the unknowns and decides his best chances for useful information are in Margerie's old premises, the boarding house on Pleasant Street.  Taking some reasonable precautions in case of thieves, Magnus makes his way into the lowers, his eye taking in the shifting scenery as he descends into the old city.

The size and shape of buildings seem to shrink, as does the space between them as the foundations sink and shift into the earth that supports them.  Massive cracks crawl up the small structures and branch like the first strands of a spider's web being cast.  Alleyways and side streets diminish, some being so narrow that Magnus feels he would have to walk sideways through the narrows to keep from scraping his shoulders.  Some of the alleyways disappear all together, the buildings sitting next to each other, their stone walls touching, leaning on each other for support.

The people too, seem to crawl down the ladder into despair.  The crowds of the main street shops diminish, leaving but few adults.  Those who do seem to laze about are dirtied and lethargic, laying against a wall, or else conversing in undertones with small groups.  Those few who do seem to be of working class move quickly and with a purpose.

The most telling sign of the change, however, is the smell.  The pungent miasma of decay and vinegar starts slowly, though before long it is enough to make him pick up his own pace.  He glances down a side alley and sees a bucket of filth emptied out of a window, where the wet mess slaps against the opposite wall and earth with a messy splatter.

Magnus catches a few looks of vile distaste, though he is lucky to avoid any real scene.

Before long, he finds himself at the boarding house where Margerie lived on Pleasant Street, a striking name indeed given the conditions.  The house is slightly larger than the buildings around, two stories instead of one, and is made of wood.  Magnus surmises it is likely a newer addition than many of the other buildings around.  Still, the exterior is beginning to dry rot in places where the boards decay and flake off, exposing various holes up to the size of a fist.  The doorway is undecorated, and the few, small windows that climb the sides are all shuttered closed.

Knocking briefly on the door before letting himself in, Magnus manages to find someone who directs him up to the room where Margerie had most recently lived.

"What is it?"  A woman's voice calls when Magnus raps on the door.

OOC:  Magnus manages to find out that Margerie lived with a room mate, who still resides in the boarding house.  I've already rolled vs. Reaction for you, but you are welcome to roll against diplomacy to try and modify the overall outcome.

Having grown up on the road, in the company of travelers from varied places and walks of life, Magnus had never had much experience with slums. The poor, the truly poor, simply could not travel. They could not afford the time off work, the food, the lodging, clothes fit for the task or any of the myriad pieces of equipment that made long trips feasible.

They were stuck, wherever their luck happened to have run out.

But he had known violent sorts, unscrupulous men and women who had cause to be on the run. Deserters, yes, poachers, exiles, drunks, gypsy whores, elven musicians and itinerant goblin tinkers. Drifters, men with an itch for the road and a parcel of bastards in their wake.

This, he thought glumly, was where those sorts of folks had come from. Before they were run out into the company of the road they had nearly all come from somewhere, and this was just that sort of place. He recognized the sour vomit and piss smell, the clouded eyes, the discolored teeth.

He looked the building over with an appraising eye before he knocked on the door, and having taken a few steps back he called out to the voice beyond.

"Mornin'. Lookin' for Margerie's room mate. She happen to be around?" he asked in the low rural English of the country dweller. His most natural and easy tone, un-officious , weary and a little haggard.

"Yeah, come in."  is the easy, though tired response to Magnus's query.

Magnus opens the door, slowly, careful not to make any fast movements.  He was all too aware how his mere looks could set people against him, making them untrusting, and making quick movements or keeping his hands out of sight seemed to make things worse.  It seemed if there were anyone who Magnus needed to a little bit of trust from, it was the roommate, who likely knew as much as anyone about Margerie.

As Magnus takes in the small boarding room, he wonders if it is any better than living rough like he has much of his life.

The room is small, but not constrictive, perhaps about twenty feet square, though perhaps the almost complete lack of furniture makes the area seem larger.  Two straw mats are pressed into each of the two far corners, a pile of thin blankets on each of them.  The only real furniture is a small, wooden chair, on which a young woman, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties sits, with a jumbled lump of fabric along with a needle and thread set in her lap.

Next to the woman are two piles of clothes in various states of disrepair, some obviously ripped, while others seem serviceable at least.  Aside from the clothes, the only hint of possessions are two small boxes set up like footlockers at the end of the bed, tucked against the wall.

As Magnus takes this all in, a young boy, standing, but no doubt at the early ages of toddler, likely younger than two, approaches with a confused look on his face.

"Go?"  The young man says, pointing at Magnus as he appraises him with curious eyes.

It is this word that grabs the woman's attention, and she looks up from her work, a mild shock replacing her concentration as her glance shifts rapidly between the young man and Magnus.

"She lived here, yeah."  The woman says nervously, her eyes now on the young boy again.  "What do you need?

Magnus smiled at the boy. He was still inhuman, hulking, covered in fur and with an almost animal scent despite the soaking rain. The sound his hooves made on the old floorboards, his horns, the smile did little to compensate for these things. Had the child ever seen anything remotely like him?

Children were at least honest. They ran, they screamed (both in dramatic play and in genuine fear), they pointed and they nearly always asked a lot of questions. What was he? Where did he come from? Was he the devil? Was he a bad guy?

Did he eat people?

The smile was brief, and he looked to the woman and held his ground, not advancing for the moment but giving her time to take it all in.

"Just a little information" he assured her. "Shouldn't take long. I was asked to look into her death, and I've got a good bit so far..." He reached into his satchel and took out the folded papers where the crinkled in his big hands.

"Think you could help? I could pay you a little...for your time." He suggested, and glanced to the pile of mending
This message was last edited by the player at 14:31, Sun 09 Aug 2020.

The woman is about to answer, though she is interrupted instead by the little boy.

"Go!"  The boy's look of confusion is suddenly replaced by a smile.  He points at Magnus's horns and his shaggy fur.  "Ma-a-a-a!"  He adds, and Magnus suddenly understands despite the toddler accent.

The boy has him confused with a barnyard animal.

The color drains from the young woman's face, and her eyes shift nervously between the young man and Magnus.  Before Magnus has a chance to respond, the young man walks haltingly over to the young woman, holding his arms up and she drops her stitching, picking the boy up and putting him in her lap.

"Go!"  The young man informs his mother, though she quickly shakes her head.  "No.  No child, he's not.  Hush now."

The boys smile droops back into a face of confusion, though Magnus can't make it out for long as the girl tightens her hold on the boy and his face disappears for a moment into her shoulder and chest.

"Yes."  The woman says, finally speaking to Magnus.  "Yes, that would be fine."

Magnus laughed warmly, a deep chuckle as he shook his head. A goat was close enough after all, given the horns, fur and hooves and he doubted that the child had every seen a bull.

"It's alright" he assured the boys mother. "He doesn't mean any harm." The Minotaur shifted the papers around a bit and glanced at his notes. He had a lot of information so far, but he needed to start asking the harder questions. Trouble was he was not quite sure what he needed to be asking just yet.

"Alright..." he rubbed at his chin in a pensive way. "Obviously I didn't know Margerie, but from everyone I've talked to she sounded real nice. Especially before she was with child..." he looked to the woman in a searching sort of way. "What do you think happened? Those last few months before she died?"

The woman seems relieved as Magnus brushes her son's animal comment aside, though she still holds tight to the child who sits on her lap, though the son's attention seems to be slipping quickly as he glances over his mother's arm at Magnus, his arms reaching out as if to grab the air and pull himself off his mother's lap.

Magnus goes straight in to the situation with his questions.

"What happened?"  The girl repeats back to Magnus with a look of slight disbelief on her face.  "She got pregnant... with somebody who weren't willing to keep up his end of the arrangement."

Her face softens slightly, her glance lingering on Magnus as if waiting for something else, though eventually she continues.

"Maybe you aren't too familiar what it's like, but I can tell you no one's going to hire a girl with a babe, and no one's going to marry one either."

The boy grunts with exertion as he pushes his face into his mother's arm, leaning forward hard enough that if she let go he would fall face first on the wooden floor.  Eventually, the girl gives up, glancing down as she plops him on the floor and he starts to waddle off with uneven steps.

"My sickness only lasted a few weeks... but hers had been going on for months, hurling up anything she ate near as soon as it hit her stomach."

The girl glances towards her son, who has made his way to the pile of clothes, leaning over too quickly, though he manages to catch himself with his hands before falling over backwards onto his bottom.

"I don't agree with what she did mind."  The girl offers, taking her eyes off her boy for a moment to look directly at Magnus.  "But I can understand the thoughts she was thinking, the hope drained out of her.  It's not easy living like this."

Magnus listened, sympathetic, but knowing full well he was out of his element.

Unwed mothers, practically a class unto themselves, and a story as old as time. But for all that Magnus could never fathom how a man could simply walk away from their own flesh and blood, and to leave someone they likely had cared for alone with such a tremendous burden.

The Minotaur has never been so fortunate as to meet any member of his own kind outside his family, much less a female, much less a single female that may in any way be interested in marriage. The thought brought him low and so he banished it as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Yeah, I imagine it is." he replied with a note of apology. As if he was some how defending himself against the crimes of another. "Even if everything goes well, and it's normal and the babies healthy. Rough, I'm sure." he took a deep breath.

"But you kind of brought up my main question. The father. Do you know who he is? I mean she must have tried to get him to...commit. Go before a priest but, it seems that never happened." he glanced to his notes. "I've got a good bit on her but almost nothing on who she was seeing."

When Magnus asks if the girl knows who the father is, she shakes her head sadly.

"At first, when she found out she was pregnant, she was really happy.  Maybe you can see why I tried to tamp down her bliss."

The girl glances over to her son, who has grabbed two handfuls of the pile of rags, pulling the whole of it to his open mouth.

"NO!"  The girl warns the boy.  The little man turns his head and smiles broadly at his mother, like they were seeing each other after a separation of years.  He drops the rags and pushes himself back up to his feet, waddling over to the girl with his arms outstretched.

"Of course, then she went way over to the other side."  The girl absentmindedly picks up her son, and sets him in her lap.  The boy takes the moment to nuzzle into her breast.

"She was despondent.  I tried to push her back to somewhere in the middle.  I asked her who the father was.  She refused to say anything, it made her mad..."  The girl shakes her head.  "I asked her why she was protecting him, not like it made a difference whether I knew anyway.  But she wouldn't budge.  I think she started avoiding conversation much after that... didn't want it to come up."

As Magnus listened, one of his preconceptions seemed to fall b the wayside. He had sort of assumed that Margerie had been upset about the pregnancy from the beginning, most unmarried mothers would be he would think. But words like "happy" and "blissful" did not fit that at all.

What then had caused her to go from excited to suicidal somewhere along the way? Had the father refused to acknowledge the child? Was the pregnancy itself unusually difficult? And why did she not trust even her own room mate with such basic information?

"Hmmm" Magnus nodded. "What do you think of the chance of it being somebody important? The father I mean. Somebody she might have been afraid of upsetting?"

At Magnus's question, the girl thinks in a silent moment, though in the end she shrugs.  "Never thought of that, but it fits.  Sometimes she'd have so much work at the court that she would stay over a night.  Suppose that would be as good a place as any to get in heavy with a fancy lawyer or the magistrate even.  But I couldn't say for sure.  I couldn't imagine why she would want to protect the father, but if he was powerful enough to make her life miserable for blabbing, that seems like as good a reason as their could be."

The girl pauses for a moment, her attention distracted by her child who has begun to start grabbing her hair with his chubby little fists.

"Still not good enough, mind."

Magnus believed that he had the very beginnings of an explanation. Margerie could have found a lover, somebody of some means at Court, and believed that she would be taken care of should she become pregnant. When she did, the prospect of a better life, a husband, and a family of her own would have been cause for celebration...before the father refused to acknowledge the child. Then quite the opposite...a life as a single mother, caring for a bastard.

By God some of these women had it rough. So much to risk, on the whim of a man that may or may not live up to his responsibilities.

Magnus nodded, made some notes. "I think we're almost done...Did she ever mention anyone at the Court that she was close with? Any name that came up frequently when she was workin' there?" he asked and shot another smile to the mischievous child.

The girl pauses for a moment to think, but eventually shakes her head.

"I mean, she mentioned plenty of people, but no one in particular that I can think of.  Margerie was the sort that made friends with just about anybody, broke down walls with a smile that the rest of us just can't seem to make our way over."

The girl shakes her head again.

"Margerie would have been a good mom."

"The more I learn about 'er, the more I kind of wish I had gotten to meet her at some point." he said. Who knew? Maybe she was one of those rare souls, like Judoc, Finn or Ronald or Gustav that were able to see past his whole parentage issue.

Magnus made a few more notes before he sighed. "Alright...I owe you some coin." he said, and fished five silver pennies out of his pouch before he handed them over to her. He felt just fine about it, given her situation.

"'Preciate your time. I know I probably spooked you comin' to the door like that. But, I'm glad we were able to talk." He stood, slowly and tucked his notes away. He turned to go and paused for a moment. "Hey, I know it's kind of an odd question but, do you know what happened to her things after she passed?"

Magnus presents the girl with five silver pennies, likely several days wages if her only means was of stitching the rags that were covering her floor.  She gives the reaction that perhaps he expected, or perhaps he had hoped she would not.

"Thank you."  She breathes the word, her eyes tearing up as she hastily puts the coin away in her dress.

Magnus gathers himself, and readies to go, thinking only at the last minute of one last question.

"What?"  The girl looks taken aback, though Magnus notices a rush of blood in her cheeks like she is embarrassed of the question.  Whether Magnus shows his recognition or not, the girl shakes her head quickly and begins talking, her eyes cast towards the floor.

"When I had Archie, I told Margerie that if anything happened to me in childbirth... she could have all my things... an I asked her to care for the baby if somehow he made it and I didn't."  The girl looks up at Magnus, her eyes glistening slightly, thought the color has made its way out of her face.  "She agreed to it...  though luckily nothing came of it..."  She pauses, sighing and arching her back, looking up as she sits.

"Night before she died, Margerie said the same to me.  Told me to take everything if she weren't going to make it.  I didn't understand at first, I was worried... maybe that was the right reaction after all, but she reminded me about what I had said, and I couldn't fault her for that.  Next day, her body was drug out of the Conn."

The girl pauses a moment, collecting herself, though it seems she is still somewhat embarrassed.

"I took her up on her offer.  She wasn't using her things anymore, so I sold all I could...  There weren't nothing else to do with it."

Magnus realized the implication at once,  and once she was through talking he raised one hand and shook it slightly in an effort to show his intent. "No...I mean, that makes sense. I would have done the same thing." he assured her. "What I meant was I'm just looking for more information. Some gift from her lover, anything odd or out of place. I'm not sure exactly what I would be looking for, but was there anything that stood out when you were going through it all?"

He stopped short of saying anything "magical" or "occult" specifically as he did not want to spook the poor girl.

The girl shakes her head.  "No.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  One or two sets of clothes, some personal effects, hair things, a knife she said she made, a necklace I've never seen her wear."

The girl notices Magnus's face and shakes her head again.  "It wasn't expensive or anything, just a wire weave with a few pretty bits of colored glass."

The girl pauses, thinking, though it doesn't seem that anything else comes to her.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary."

Magnus nodded. He wished he knew more about magic, but at the same time he had the merest hint of the complexity from having spent time around those who practiced it, and he knew that was a field of nearly unlimited depth.

Still, it would have been nice to ask a few of his more knowledgeable friends their opinions right about now.

The knife at least tied the two together, but who knew how many pieces she had worked on as an apprentice? Magnus figured it was normal for an aspiring smith to work on more simple things, like knives.

And it had probably been among the first things to be sold.

"Well, worth a shot." he shot a smile at the child and warmed to the thought of the two heading to the market to get some real food with the money he had given her. "Thanks again for your help and, sorry to bring everything back up." He turned to leave, his lumbering frame causing the floor boards to clack and squeal as he carefully made his way towards the door.

The Court was the next obvious place, and that was where he was headed while he still had daylight.

The farmer would be difficult to track down and would likely be at his property any given time of the day.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:48, Fri 11 Sept 2020.

"No problem."  The girl offers with the trace of a smile.  "Thank you."

Magnus closes the door and makes his way out of the tenant house, and out of the lower district.  His mind now is on the courts.  It was a small thing, perhaps just a hunch, that the father was wealthy, or powerful, or both, which seemed to point towards the courts, a job which Margerie did seem to enjoy by all accounts.  It seemed as likely a place as any for Magnus to find the father.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Magnus soon finds himself back near the merchant district where various stalls and carts are set up with produce and cloth and various other goods.  Asking one of the locals as to the direction of the court, he receives a hastily jabbed finger in return, which points towards a large, high roofed building towards the end of the row.

"You're late if ewer supposed ta be there."  The man the man offers even as he is walking away.  "And the magistrate ant too lenient on people the don't show."

OOC:  It is 1200 on the 7th of August.  The courts are only open on Saturday, (or whatever one day a week I told you earlier... I think it's Saturday.  Since I don't normally incorporate days of the week into the game, I rolled randomly to determine what day it is.  Of course I rolled Saturday.  That being said, It's likely late enough in the day by now that the cases may be complete depending on how many people went to court.

Back out, into the sights and sounds and smells of the city. Back out into the feel of cobble stone beneath his hooves, to the  cool gray skies and dripping eaves.

Magnus enjoyed the mild weather, a break from the heat with all his thick fur, and thought about how nice it would be to break for a nice warm cup of coffee, or some tea or hot cider. But as he recalled that the Court was only open one day a week, and how very awkward it would be to arrange for accomodation for another six days, he pressed on.

The streets became better, the homes larger, the smell less pronounced. But the amount of staring was the same even if the people doing it were dressed in finer cloth.

He thanked the local for his directions and set off for the prominent building. Courts meant officials, officials meant money, and guards. And guards of any stripe generally paid him a great deal of attention. Hands resting upon pommels, narrowed glances, that sort of thing. He was used to it. As long as that was all it was, that was fine.

But there would not be a lot of folks lining up to bail him out should he run afoul of them.

The Court awaited, as well as some very uncomfortable questions. But was it worth the cost of a brand new helmet that could save his life? Yeah...it was no more risky than trekking through the jungle or looting ruins. Just... different.

Magnus walks in the direction of the courts, his mind looming on the ways that approaching this building of law was not so unlike his decent into the caves under Perdition.  Was it dangerous?  Perhaps.  Unfortunately, by the time he knew the answer to that question it was likely that the choices available to him may have narrowed significantly.

As he walks, he notes two men leaving the courthouse, talking idly as they continue up the street and away from Magnus.  The door stands ajar behind them, and Magnus approaches cautiously, peering in before he pushes his way in through the door.

The room he finds himself in is wide, forty or fifty feet wide at least, though perhaps only half that deep.  Directly across from Magnus, there is another open double doorway, which opens up into a short hallway followed by a larger courtroom, with various bench seating closer to him and what looked like tabled seats farther towards the back.

Both in the small antechamber he is standing in and the larger room beyond, there are a dozen or more men, the ones closest standing close and talking in low tones that Magnus barely manages to make out.

"Bondage.  It's excessive is what it is!"  The man's jaw is set forward, his face wild in determination.

"He knew as well any what could happen..."  The second man responds, his voice soft and consoling in nature.

However, the first man notices they have Magnus's attention, and he plants a palm on his friend's chest, stopping him mid-sentence.

"What do you want?"  The first man asks, his voice hostile and accusing.

OOC:  I didn't want to get in too deep in describing the room or the surroundings mostly because I don't feel we need to get to that level of detail.  It seems that court has just recently gotten out, as there are still people standing in the courtroom, though many of them are talking which only seems appropriate if court is no longer in session.  There is actually another side door on the same wall, all the way to the left, though that one is closed.  Feel free to take specific action or just let me know what your general intentions are.

Magnus briefly took in the interior of the building before he was...well, it was more of a challenge than a greeting. He stopped at once and had only a few seconds to take in the people within as his eyes adjusted.

"Afternoon...I was looking for anybody that works here? A clerk maybe?" he replied. He assumed he was about to be asked to leave, which he seemed very prepared to do. He was not about to cause any trouble here, and there was more than one way to skin a cat, as they say.

But while he was he he soaked in all the information he could about the people within.

Magnus looks around the small antechamber as he responds to the open hostility.  Despite his initial fear that armed guards and and officials might be prevalent, Magnus quickly surmises that it doesn't seem that there is anyone official in this small room, rather, it is just a handful of quiet conversations between freemen.

"Clerk?"  The man scoffs, his fists clenched as his jaw and cheek squared.  "Come to take the guilty away more like."  The man hisses the word, and though his every expression spits hate at Magnus he does not make any motion or make any action.  "Take 'em to the prisons, the stockades, and transportation.  Take 'em away as slaves."

Of course, the fact that the man isn't doing anything physical doesn't make up for his acerbic words.  Magnus quickly realizes that he has drawn the attention of everyone else in the small room, and that even some in the courtroom beyond are beginning to glance in his direction.

OOC:  It's clear that the one person who seems to be talking to you doesn't want to be helpful, though there doesn't appear to be anyone official in the room.  You can either ignore him and keep looking, or else leave and try somewhere else, or feel free to try anything else you can think of.

A familiar but unwelcome sensation welled up from within the Minotaurs innards. Fear. Not that immediate, visceral fear that comes in combat or the fear of some indiscernible thing, like the undead for example. This was a childhood fear, the fear that scarred a person, a fear earned long ago that Magnus was probably never going to shake, if he was being honest with himself.

Shouting, staring, confusion, tension. That's how it started. And suddenly a bunch of baseless yelling drew out the impulsive ones. They even hear the word slavery, and suddenly the Minotaur is taking slaves, because that's what they do, right? Obviously. And then we have a bunch of would be heroes coming out of the wood work to drive the monster away. To kill it even.

Yes, behind the fear there was anger, the desire to wrap his hands around the mans neck and to squeeze until he Shut. The . Hell. Up.

But no. No, no, no. He was not even going to think about it. The memory of Bjorn's hand, split open in the middle with the blood, and the meat and the pink bone came unbidden to him.

"Guess I'm in the wrong place. Sorry." He turned to go. He find somebody else, he could come back later, hell, he could come back next week of it avoided a scene.

Magnus, wanting to avoid any more of an altercation than had already occurred, backs down from the situation.  It was better to extract himself now, then perhaps come back later when this arrogant imbecile was gone.  Magnus loathed such stupid prejudice... though it was something he knew he had to live with, and the fear and anger churning within him would not be helpful in defusing the situation.

With the eyes of the whole room on him, Magnus backs out the door of the court, and luckily the situation seems to end there without anyone badgering him further or following him out.  He makes his way across the road to a small alley where he can watch the departing traffic while he eats a few slabs of dried lamb and some stale bread from his rations while his nerves begin to cool.

Slowly, the foot traffic begins to file out of the building.  Three or four at a time, perhaps just over a dozen before Magnus recognizes his verbal assailant exiting.

Luckily, the man does not seem to notice Magnus as he walks away, still looking sullen and angry...

Magnus brushed off mouth, wiped his hands on his pants, and casually put his lunch away as he watched the belligerent man walk further and further away. With a swig from his water skin, he shouldered his satchel once more and decided to peek inside the Court to see if anybody remained.

Brushing himself off, Magnus makes his way back into the courthouse.

Now, after the departure of so many, the small antechamber is empty.  This time, Magnus has the luxury of taking a longer look around, though to be honest there isn't much to see.  A narrow table sets near the far wall and there are two benches which sit against the back.  The small room seems to be for little real purpose other than to simply be a room before walking into the courts.

Magnus walks forward gingerly, for the double doors leading into the courtroom are still ajar.  That space lays empty now too.

Walking towards the courts, Magnus notes that in the small hallway, there is a door on either side.  The one on the left is open, displaying a tiny room that is barely ten feet wide and fifteen deep, with just a small table and a handful of chairs as furniture, with an oil lamp hanging from the wall to provide the only light.

Though the door on the right side of the hallway is closed, Magnus can barely make out the sound of muffled voices coming from within.

Magnus glances in towards the courts, getting a view of the layout.  The room doesn't appear to be anything special.  There are six or seven benches on either side at the back of the room, a pair of tables towards the middle, and a large desk at the front.  Magnus does not have any background in law, but from what he understands, the magistrate would sit at the front... and the lawyers on either side of the case would use the tables.  The benches he would have to guess were for any spectators, or perhaps for any who were awaiting the next hearing.

Magnus notes too, a door behind the Magistrate's desk, as well as one on the side of the room, in the space between the lawyer's tables and the magistrate.  Both of these doors are closed.

OOC:  I'm just trying to give you a general idea of the layout rather than to force you to explore door by door like a dungeon crawl.  Feel free to say "just keep looking around" if you want, or pick the door you want to try and go through.  I thought about uploading a map - though it would look way too modern to really fit, not to mention that most of the details aren't really important.  Let me know if you have any questions though.

Magnus did not venture far from the foyer,  as he was not certain what the custom was to have unattended people in such a important building. He did penetrate far enough to catch voices, to confirm that it was not unoccupied, but after a quick circuit he retreated back towards the doorway.

There he would linger until he saw someone that looked like they might know something about Margerie or her activities. It was a long shot to be sure, but the offer would not have been extended to him if this whole thing was going to be easy.

After a quick look in the courtroom, Magnus makes his way back to the foyer, stopping somewhere near the door so to avoid the presumption he was intruding.  He did not have to wait long for someone to pass by.  For only a minute or two passed before the closed door prior to the courtroom opened, and two men depart.  The first of them to exit wears a clean smock and pants, the man catches sight of Magnus and lowers his eyes, making his way directly towards the door without even a word of greeting.  The second man however, wears a long black robe which hangs loose everywhere but at his waist where it is belted tight with a thong of leather.  When this man notices Magnus, he pauses, his brow furrowing.

"Yes?"  The second man asks, as the first hurries past Magnus towards the open door.

OOC:  Feel free to roll vs. Diplomacy.

"Afternoon sir, sorry to bother. I was hoping to talk to someone about a young woman who used to work here, Margerie. She died a short time ago." he clarified, hoping to perhaps jog his memory. "It's not a legal matter or anything like that. She just passed suddenly, and those that knew her were trying to find out more about what happened."

He felt like if he was in the habit of wearing hats he would remove it, but he was not, so instead he just folded his hands in front of him himself.

"Margerie?"  The man in the robe asks, his brow knitting together in a moment of appraisal as the first man leaves the building at a hurried pace.

"I'm afraid I can't be of much help."  The man says.  "I didn't know Margerie well.  She just washed the jurists clothes after court."  The man half turns, keeping an eye on Magnus as he seems to edge slightly closer towards the courtroom.

"If that's all I'm afraid I have a very busy schedule to keep."

Magnus seemed visibly confused, is only mildly. Was that all Margerie had done for the Court? wash laundry? Of course it did make a certain amount of sense what with her room mate being involved with the same trade, but he had sort of assumed that she had done something more...important.

His mouth hung open for a fraction of a second before he shook his great shaggy head. "Of course sir, I won't keep you, but do you know anybody who may have known her better? " asked as he took a step back, not expecting the man to break stride. It would be much easier to ask after the laundress at the court, but he still had so much work to do, and any help would be of great use at this point.

When Magnus hesitates for a moment, the man seems to take it as an invitation to leave, and he quickly turns on his heel and heads towards the back.  When Magnus does eventually respond, the man does not so much hesitate, but continues walking towards the back of the room as he responds.

"I'm not sure, you could inquire after the sweep.  He might know something of her."

The man opens a door at the back, adding "Sorry, lots to do." without so much as a look at Magnus before he closes the door behind himself.

OOC:  Sorry for the long wait for such a short post.  Basically, this guy has nothing for you.  You can explore the court further if you wish.  If that's the case, choose either the door at the back (that the man in the black robe just went through) or the side door in the court, or the side door that was in the ante chamber out front.  Or you can do anything else you can think of.

Magnus, left to himself once more, felt a little dejected as he looked about the place. At least his luck was holding strong considering that the Court was likely empty most of the week, so he was not ready to give up just yet.

Looking into the sweep, or who he assumed was responsible for keeping the place tidy, seemed like a good next move, and so he returned to the anti-chamber and checked the door leading off it, hoping to find something akin to a storage room or some other utilitarian chamber where such a man might work out of.

Magnus makes his way back out to the main room and cuts across to the left, into the smaller door on the side, which opens up into a narrow hallway.  It takes Magnus a moment for his eyes to adjust to the meager light of a few dim oil lamps, though in a moment he can make out a handful of small doors that open to the left, one farther on down the hallway that opens to the right (presumably back into the courtroom) and one final one at the end of the hall.

The scrape of a pail on stone draws Magnus's attention, and he notices a bustle of motion as a man retreats from one of the rooms with a broom, mop and bucket as well as a handful of other supplies.

Magnus grins at the ease of finding what he assumes is the 'sweep,' though any good feelings he has at the moment are short lived.

His body convulsing at the sight of Magnus, the man drops his pail and supplies, his face horrorstruck.  For a split second, the man freezes, though after that moment, he turns and flees, shrieking at the top of his lungs.  "Help!  Help!  Monsters in the building!"

The man grips feverishly at the door at the back of the hallway before wrenching it open, bursting through it and out of sight at full tilt!

"God damn it..." Magnus muttered to himself with a frustrated shake of his head once the man had flown. He had been having a good day, a downright decent day, a little rain, sure, a little trouble tracking down the information...to be expected. But this had put a damper on the whole thing.

The minotaur heaved a great sigh, stepped out, closed the door behind himself, and then began to make his way in the opposite direction the man had gone, planning on taking a circuitous route all the way back to the Angel Armory.

While he had been walking around unmolested all day, it could only take one excitable idiot to whip people up into a frenzy. Just one new guard out to make a name for himself, or one wanna-be hero, one dramatic woman and the whole thing could snow ball into something ugly.

So, he decided he was pretty much done for the day. Or at the very least he was going to go lay low for several hours while things calmed down. It was the safe bet, if the slow one, and he was not looking to push his luck at this juncture.

Magnus turned from the small servant's hallway, unwilling to test the matter further.  It was only too easy for a single man to send a whole place into a complete disarray.  He had seen one too many times the things that a panic could stir up...

As he hurries back through the anteroom, Magnus nearly bumps into another man just at the door, who darts in with the same haste that Magnus is leaving.  Magnus manages to hold himself just at the last moment, a lucky thing, for the other man, seems only able to shift his momentum, turning his body to face Magnus as he hurries through the door.

The moment is odd for Magnus.  The man's features are striking, and not in a good way.  His eyes an unhealthy pale and bright brown and are sunken and purpled as if in dire need of sleep.  His collar bones thrust themselves from his skin, just visible under the wide-necked shirt the man wears.  His short brown hair and clothes are mussed and tattered here and there.

The man curls his lip at Magnus, though he says nothing.  Instead he turns back as he hurries along into the double doors of the courtroom, towards the muffled sounds of shrieking that still seem to be echoing from a long way back.

Magnus shakes his head, not wanting to take any reason to delay his departure, and rushes himself out of the building.

OOC:  You don't seem to be followed out of the courthouse.  How long do you want to 'lay low' and where?  Sorry for the slow pace, but as I remember things, you were still planning on looking in on the midwife, Margerie's father, and the Farmer who found her.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:27, Mon 02 Nov 2020.

OOC: No worries at all. From what Magnus has gathered this far. Which of those options would be nearest?

OOC:  Probably the surest bet is the midwife.  She works out of her own place, so she is fairly likely to be there and it isn't too far from the courthouse.  The Farmer is also a possibility, you could check for him at the market (which is close), though if he is not there it would mean a walk out of the city and all the way to his farm (which is quite far).  The father 'lives' in the slums, though you haven't been able to shake out any sort of address.  It's a medium distance, though you have the idea you could spend hours just searching for him, with no real guarantee of finding him at all.

After Magnus was fairly certain that his day was not going to involve an angry mob, he drifted steadily towards the home of the midwife who had been attending to Margerie. Here he had high hopes, as even more so than her house mate, the deceased had every reason to be straight forward and candid with the woman who would be helping her to deliver.

His nerves a little more frazzled, he pressed on, and maintained frequent glances towards the cloudy sky and the intermittent rain.

Making some haste away from the court to ensure that his trouble does not follow him, Magnus slowly makes his way to the home of the midwife, mother Alice.

His reception at the court had been rather bothersome.  After all, Magnus had been sure that someone there would have more useful information on Margerie.  Questions still swirled in Magnus's head -- most of all, even if he were to find out who Margerie's love was, how was that to help him break the curse on Master Daneel?  The smith had been certain Margerie was the key...  That the rumors that he was the father had been the root of it somehow...

Magnus shakes his head.  Having known real wizards and having seen their spells, this occult and eerie brooding of curses and witchcraft didn't seem to fit...  But Daneel was convinced, and it didn't seem that anyone else had a more informed view of what was going on...

Magnus's thoughts carry him all the way to the home of Mother Alice.  Magnus raps on the door, taking a quick, forced breath to keep his calm, preparing himself in case the encounter only brings more trouble.

His fears, however, seem not to be required.

"Hello?"  The door opens slightly and the face of an elderly woman breaks from the darkness beyond.  Her face is lined, her hair paling from grey to white, though it is pulled back into a wrap on the back of her head with only a few defiant pieces fraying from the general neatness.  One of her eyes seems to be open wider than its pair, the other slouched and unresponsive, with the black center of the pupil spreading like a prickly ooze across the hazel iris.

"Here for herbs?"  The woman asks, opening the door just slightly wider which casts some light in the thin, brown shawl.  Her one good eye glances up at Magnus, apparently none taken aback by Magnus's monstrous form.

The greeting was obviously not expected, and in a way it was disarming. There was a very brief look of confusion on the Minotaurs broad face, then a hint of a smile. "Well hello." he replied in his rumbling baritone.

"I had actually come to ask you about Margerie, but if you sell Herbs I'd like to take a look...Do you sell physic?" he asked earnestly. Magnus did not do a lot of shopping, as a rule, and he was rarely in a city. Somebody who could sell him concoctions was a rarity, and he planned to take advantage if he could. And besides, maybe she might be more willing to speak with a paying customer.

"Margerie?"  The woman asks, quirking an eyebrow as she opens the door slightly wider.  Though as Magnus states that he'd be happy to peruse her wares, she opens the door slightly wider.

"Come in then, I'll see what I have."

Magnus steps into the modest room, which appears to be both a sort of living room and a place for her work.  There are some meager pieces of furniture, a pair of thin, wooden chairs that sit along the back wall, and a rather larger, raised bed.  Next to the bed is a rather large bag which lays open - Magnus sees some sort of tools of which he has no real knowledge.  There is also a bookshelf along the side wall, though instead of books, the piece is stocked with glass and clay jars, each of which seems to be filled with different herbal components or remedies.

"Physic you say?"  The woman asks, gesturing to one of the seats as bustles to the shelf.

OOC:  Sorry, I'm not super familiar with the herbal/potion GURPS rules or formats, but I'm more than happy to accommodate.  Do you have a page number for what you are looking for?  I can't seem to find it in my references.

My apologies. "Psysic" is an antiquated term for any sort of medicine. "Drafts" "Potions" "Poultice", any sort of health care product, etc would all fall under that category.

Magnus stomped off the worst of the water and stepped inside, where his wet animal scent seemed to fill the small space. He stood there, dripping softly, and nodded to the woman. "Yes ma'am, I don't get to a doctor very often, so I figure'd I'd take advantage of your kindness while I can." he clarified.

And after a few more moments. "Margerie was that young pregnant girl that died recently?" he reminded her. "Worked over at the Court, and at the White Heart, and the Angel Armory." he added. "Was kind of looking into things for some friends of hers, tryin' to figure out what happened."

"Yes."  Mother Alice laughs with a slight cackle as Magnus mentions taking advantage of her kindness, she bustles through her shelves.

"I have much...  Lavender for calm, Sage for clarity..."  She turns her head and narrows her eyes for a moment, as if appraising Magnus.  "Some more rare and tricky combinations if you feel the need to lighten your purse...  Some Chironic healing grasses...  Tranquility, sleep medicine, smelling salts...  What is it you require?"

Alice smiles slightly, displaying a yellowing mouth missing several teeth.

Though she still stands at her shelf, she does not hesitate to switch over the conversation to Margerie, squinting her one, good eye in concentration.

"Yes, I tended to Margerie.  Stong, healthy baby it was... noble stock.  Shame as what happened to her."

Magnus looked about at the little bottles and wax paper bundles before he seemed to remember something. "I don't suppose you have anything that would help with fleas? I'm normally pretty clean." he said somewhat defensively. "But I stayed at a cut rate inn and sure enough I'm still paying for it." A soap, or a wash or just about anything that would kill the damn things would be a relief to him.

"It was a shame." he agreed earnestly. "I never met her, but from all accounts she seemed nice, hard working. Tried to make something of herself." he sighed a little somberly before he continued. "There's some that think that maybe dark arts are at work here, that there was maybe a curse, or that she's restless. I agreed to look into it, as I've dealt with Witchcraft before." he said with surprising honesty.

"I keep coming back to the notion of the child's father. That if I knew who he was I would be a lot closer to figuring all this out, but she seemed to keep that information close to her heart." he said with mild frustration.

"Mmmmm."  Alice murmurs to herself as Magnus asks for a flea remedy, shuffling along the shelf, pressing jars to the side as she searches for something that seems hidden amongst the jars.

Eventually, Alice seems to find what she is looking for, a small, potted jar, the contents of which she dumps out into a mortal and pestle before walking back towards Magnus and taking a seat in one of the two chairs in the room.  She motions Magnus to the other, "Sit."  She offers, her voice commanding despite her age and infirmity.

As Magnus continues to talk, Alice grinds the leaves into the bowl, her gnarled hands making swift and strong movements, that make fairly quick work of the thin leaves, grinding them finer and finer until only a powder interspersed with bits of stems remain.  Alice only looks up once during her work, when Magnus says that he is familiar with witchcraft.

"Yes."  Alice finally says with a giggle as Magnus finishes.  "Yes, she weren't keen on letting  out who the father was...  Or perhaps it was the other way 'round...  In any case she weren't open with it.  Afraid, I suspect."

Alice glances down at her work and seems satisfied, pouring the powder and stems back into the small jar and hands it over to Magnus.  "When you are ready, add a spit of water at a time.  You'll want to make a thick paste and rub it everywhere.  Gave you as much as I had, hopefully that will be enough.  We'll call it, fifteen pennies for the whole of it?"

"More than fair" Magnus agreed, and handed over the fee.

"Much appreciated." He hefted the little jar before he slipped it in his pack.

From there he took a deep breath as he arranged his thoughts and smiled at the woman. "Look, I know you don't know me from Adam, but I appreciate you bein' so straightforward. And even just talkin' to me at all given what I am." he began.

"Now I had figured that maybe the Father was someone important. It stood to reason with her being to tight lipped about it. I'm not lookin' to get involved in local politics, I've obviously got no stake in that game. But I would like to lift this curse." he slung his bag once more.

"I can respect you not wantin' to talk to strangers about it. It's professional, and I get it. But it would mean a great deal to me if I had somewhere to start with all this. I'm not the sort to spread rumors or anything like that, just tryin' to get my job done so I can move on down the road." he explained.

"Is there any way you'd be willin' to help me out?" he asked sincerely.

Mother Alice grins as she takes the money from Magnus, exposing gaps where several missing teeth should be.  She walks back over to the shelves and stuffs the coin into another of the jars where they fall with a clink.

She returns, sitting in the other chair, her grin somewhat abated, though it still plays on her elderly mouth as Magnus thanks her for the courtesy and admits that not many have had the same response to his features.  Alice nods in recognition, adding only, "Fear does things to people, makes them bold, or flee.  Makes them do things they would never had understood in another.  Fear is why people treat you differently, and it's why Margerie jumped in the river...  I have no use for it anymore."

Alice listens as Magnus continues, offering that he suspects someone in a position of power was the father.  Alice grins again at the comment, her expressions magnified by the many lines and wrinkles etched across her face.  She nods, "The law here takes witchcraft and curses seriously.  The Magistrate's hung two folk in the last two months for cursin' people, folk that were as poor as it comes and like as not that never seen so much as a spellbook."  She pauses, he good eye narrowing as she glances at Magnus.

"You know there's been murders the past week?  A man and a woman.  One dropped dead in his home, his neck red and inflamed like he'd been choked to death, but he lived alone and there weren't no signs that anyone else had been around.  The girl..."  Alice coughs a laugh.  "They say she died screaming next to her husband in their hotel room... growing bruises and bloodsores as the man watched her, horrified.  People are saying it's curses.  And there's no doubt that people are looking for someone to pin it on.  An old woman like me is especially vulnerable."  She narrows her eyes slightly.

"So, probably, are you.  So don't think that I'm staying my tongue for the sake of Margerie.  It won't help her none.  But it won't help me none to get on the wrong side of someone important shall we say."

There was a strange kinship in unsightliness.

Surely the woman had been young once, and if not beautiful, then at least a maid in full flower. Magnus had not always been so alarming himself...he could have been considered cute in a way, at least to some, when he was a boy. But the moment he had started to pack on size and muscle that all fell by the wayside.

No, here they were, speaking frankly, each knowing that the other had lived a difficult life. Each knowing how fragile their existence could be, and each having been forced to keep their head down.

Even if she was a Witch, a real Witch, Magnus did not especially care. He had met thieves and murderers, fanatics, and more than one Mage oddly enough. And what was a Witch but a poor, unlicensed Mage? Sure the Bible had prohibitions against familiar spirits and all that. But the Bible did not even mention Minotaur's as far as he knew.

He was not going to press, not now, and so he changed his approach.

"Who handles that then? Surely not the normal Watch? Do they have someone from the Church here in town?" he asked. If there had been evidence of legitimist curses, then Daneel's claims suddenly seemed a whole lot more credible...and things would become that much more complicated.

Alice grins again, taking a moment of quiet to ponder how or if to answer Magnus's question.

Eventually, the woman does speak again.

"The Archbishop could assert himself, sure.  But he don't take much concern in the commons - his realm is that of the nobles, grabbing at power with both hands as he ignores everything else around.  Father Litle handles most of the real town issues.  But he doesn't much involve himself with matters of retribution."

The woman chuckles, letting her head and chin tilt back slightly as she glances up above Magnus's head.

"No, most of the matters of the law are taken up by the courts.  Sir Alston lords over the proceedings and metes out the punishment he sees fit."

OOC:  I'm starting to realize I owe a little bit of an explanation on the fervor that 'witchcraft' has stirred up in this fantasy setting.  Most of the reason is that the module is set in 16th century England, where 'witchcraft' was a real fear.  For the sake of this campaign/thread, the term 'witchcraft' isn't synonymous with 'magic,' which isn't common but is well known enough that the wealthy can seek it out for their own benefit and is definitely not illegal.  Think of witchcraft/curses in this story as more akin to fantasy setting necromancy (the spell list short of physically raising the dead), which is definitely illegal, and inspires fear much like middle ages witchcraft.  I know I'm getting repetitive in my themes, *sigh*, but I promise you aren't going up against another Haj Umr.  Thanks for rolling with the punches.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:29, Wed 02 Dec 2020.

Magnus nodded to the old woman as he followed along attentively.

"So from what I'm hearin', there's a good chance that I am gonna butt heads with at least one of these men, or someone that works for them, if I keep lookin' into this?" He clarified.

The fact that he could easily be accused alongside the actual perpetrator was not lost upon him. Even he did not know the first thing about magic, other than it was both useful and dangerous.

This left him to some inward contemplation. Was this worth it? And it was a tough question.

A custom helmet made by a Master craftsman was normally something only the Nobility could afford. And what's more his chances of finding anybody else to make one were slim to none. He had a lot of moment, and was close to claiming not only a remarkably important piece of protective gear, one he had done without for most of his life but a valuable heirloom he could hand down some day.

He wanted it, he wanted it badly now that he was so close. But this was getting complicated....

"I use to work with a couple of real Mages, good guys, and they would know just what to do in this situation. I mostly just kept them safe...did the grunt work, ya know?" He sighed. "Trackin down a curse...it's a first for me." He admitted with some frustration.

"Nothin strange about the child I assume? Other than havin' an important father?" He asked. Somewhat to confirm his suspicion. He was not asking for names after all.

Alice narrows her eyes as Magnus as he asks about the potential consequences of his search.  There is a moment of quiet... and Magnus can't help but think it is something he said... or the way he said it.  Though, perhaps the term 'butt heads' did have a slightly different meaning when your head was naturally adorned with twin spears...

"I can't say what will or won't happen."  Alice finally responds.  "Only that I live here.  It'd be foolhardy to involve myself when I have the rest of my life to reap the rewards.  I'm just telling you that nobody will hesitate to lay blame at your feet if things seem at all uncertain...  Just be careful."

Alice releases her glare, tipping her head back as she sighs slightly.  She listens to Magnus, though it appears half-heartedly.  When the minotaur asks another question, it takes Alice a moment to really respond.

"Strange?"  Her face is curious.  "No.  Healthy baby it seemed.  Mother was doing fine."

Magnus felt like he was at something like a fork in the road.

Here he was, with a woman who evidently knew the identity of Margerie's lover. She could tell him, but would not, as she seemed to feel that it would justifiably endanger her.

And yet where else would he turn once he had left here? The knowledge that others had been cursed as well, and that these dark arts would likely be investigated locally was useful, but it got him no closer to his goal.

There was the odd chance that the responsibile party could be handled by another, and that Magnus could claim some degree of credit after the fact, but that seemed unlikely on the whole.

"Could you at least...point me in the right direction?"Magnus asked in a purposefully general and sincere way. It left her an out, and yet if there was any part of the old woman that desired justice for her young patients, it also gave her an opportunity to help him pursue his work.

The whole situation frustrates Magnus.  Here was someone who finally could point him in the right direction as to who the father was... which seemed the key to this whole mess.  Whether that small piece of information would lead him to the supposed curse, he could only speculate.

Magnus asks in his most winning voice for a little direction... anything that he could use to further his inquiry, for though he had other leads he could pursue, they were neither solid, nor straight forward.  It made Magnus want to dig a little deeper to see if there was anything, anything, he could pick up here instead of leaving from his searches empty handed again.

Alice smiles, tipping her head back as she lets her eyelids droop slightly.

"Well."  Alice finally responds.  "I'd say if you want someone whose tongue is a little looser, the best place to find them would be in the court.  They'll know Margerie there, and may be able to put you on to the father, or else give you a clearer idea..."

Alice seems to interpret Magnus's recent adventure within a moment or two, as Magnus's heavy sigh and falling features seem to give away that he had already been there.

Alice chuckles, looking back at the minotaur.  "Or else you could try the prisons.  Those held there may not know Margerie, but the'll know enough about the courts.  Perhaps one of them might put you on to something to help you with your search."

OOC:  It is 1400.

"The prison?" Magnus sat up a little straighter. He had worked most of his life to distance himself from some of the lower sorts that frequented the road and the places in between society. The notion of seeking them out had no occurred to him at all, although not that he considered it there was a decent chance of somebody like himself, a victim of circumstance so to speak, being locally incarcerated.

And they would likely be desperate, for food or coin and for contact with the outside world.

"Yeah, I suppose that would be someplace to look." he agreed after consideration.

After a long pause he patted his own knee lightly and stood. "Well I won't keep you. I appreciate you...your advice, and the paste" he hefted the little vial in reference. "Whatever happens I'll try my best to not get you involved...not mention you that is. I know you took a risk even talking to me, and it means a lot." he made to leave, with every intention of seeking out the Prison before it got too late.

The farmer could wait, and he felt that he finally had a sort of lead that he might be able to draw out with enough effort.

Alice nods as Magnus responds.  "Good luck."  She smiles.

Though Magnus normally avoids places like prisons (it was tempting fate just a shade too much) he finds that the suggestion seems to hold some merit.  He does not prolong his goodbyes, but thanks Alice and heads directly out the door on the fastest track towards the prisons.

---

"I was hoping to see the inmates?"

Though Magnus had thought through his approach several times on the way over, rehearsing in his head the best way to get an interview in the dungeons, the self-coaching hadn't seemed to have paid off.  Magnus gives his winningest smile, trying to repair the damage as the jailor appraises him with a skeptical face.

Magnus heaves a sigh of relief as the man shrugs, opening an iron barred door behind him.  "Suit yourself.  S'only one down there anyway.  Everyone else was sent to transportation last week."

Magnus nods his thanks as he walks into the jail beyond.

The place is grim, though well enough kept.  The floors are dry, and each of the cells has a single, barred window, not to mention one at the end of the row, that seems to let in enough light to see by.  The place is not large, perhaps a total of twelve cells, and it is not long before Magnus finds the one inmate that has been left.

The man lays on his slate, gazing up at the ceiling, his arms lazing off to the side.  It doesn't take the man long to notice Magnus approaching his cell, and he quickly sits up, narrowing his eyes for a moment before he stands and approaches.

Magnus can't help but notice that the man only has one hand...  his right arm ends quite abruptly with only a little nub protruding past the wrist.

"Well shiiit."  The man murmurs under his breath.

OOC:  It's 1445.  Hope you don't mind the fast forwarding... or all the character interaction, it seems like that was your plan for the near future so I just went to where I think you wanted to go.  Feel free to roll vs. diplomacy for the interaction.

"Easy hoss" Magnus raised up one huge hand in a calming gesture. "I'm trackin' a bounty and was told I might come here for information. You know anything about the Courts? Who serves on them? Could be a warm meal or two in it for you" he offered in a business like fashion.

He leaned against the bars, his arms above his head to make himself appear even larger than he already was in the dim light of the jail. "I was considerin' just givin the coin to your jailer back there" he jerked his broad, shaggy horned head towards the entrance. "But I figured you might appreciate it more then he would."

18:50, Yesterday: Magnus rolled 13 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,4,5.  Diplomacy (10) Modify reaction.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:37, Thu 17 Dec 2020.

"Courts?..."  The man's eyes narrow as he grabs the cell bars with his one good hand.

The man's eyes jump around, not looking at Magnus explicitly, but seemingly just an unfocused flurry of action...  He does not seem to be overtly afraid, which is something to be said anyway.

"Sure.  I know the courts well enough..."  The words are slow, the man's eyes still unfocused.

"Though I can't say a handful of coin is going to do me much good."

The man glances back up at Magnus, pushing the nub of his right wrist in the space between the two of their faces.

"This is my second time in for stealing."  He turns the wrist so that Magnus can see the puffy red flesh at the end of the extremity which seems to be barely healed over.  "Punishment's not so kind this time around."

The man pushes himself back somewhat from the bars, letting his wrist drop, though he holds on to the bars with his left hand, quirking one eyebrow at Magnus.

"So what is it you want to know?  And what else do you think you can do for me?"

Magnus sighed. It had been a long, wet day. He was soaked, he was frustrated, and he had been spoiled by fairly cooperative interviews over the last few hours. Some thief, some obviously inept thief potentially stood between himself and getting the hell out of the with with his errand fulfilled.

"There was a young woman, pretty...pregnant, went by the name of Margerie." he began. "Used to work at the Courts...and I'm trying to track down the father. You know her by chance? Maybe know anybody that worked up there that had a habit of going after young women?" he asked and looked the man over openly.

"Don't think I've got the kind of pull to save a man from the gallows, but if you've got any family, if your leavin' anyone behind I might be able to give them a little somethin." he suggested. "Failin' that I could try to make sure you get a Christian burial. I've known some to take bits of hanged men for luck, or potions and whatnot...could see you get into the ground in one piece, and deep enough to keep the dogs away at that. Not every man can say as much." he added grimly.

"Sure."  The prisoner responds in a slick voice almost as soon as Magnus starts talking.  "Pretty girls are my specialty."  Though at the name of Margerie, he doesn't seem to take any particular notice.

Instead, it is when Magnus makes mention of anyone with the habit of going after young women that the thief's eyes widen.  "Oh."  The word is dripping with anticipation, the man's face alight with a gluttonous greed as he reaches his good left hand to grip the bars as he presses his face against his his cage.

Magnus can't help but think that this man would be no better a gambler than he is a thief.

The thief waits for Magnus to finish his offer, but when the minotaur is done, he merely shakes his head.

"I know who your after.  Saw the two of 'em the last time I went to the courts.  Making cozy when they thought no one could see 'em.  An' I'll tell ya who he was, when you get serious about wanting to know."

The thief leans back from the bars, letting his one good hand fall from the iron as he backs away.  He glances once towards the end of the hall, where the guard station is before leaning in again.

"I want out.  I figure someone like you could make all sorts of things happen right?  Bet you could scare the piss out of anybody you wanted...  Say you'll get me out of here and I'll tell you who you are looking for."

Magnus sighed heavily and stood back from the bars.

"Look man..." He began as he lowered his shaggy head and looked the prisoner dead in the eyes. His inhuman baritone reverberated about the little underground space.

"I've had a long day, I slept in this shitty inn, I'm flea bit, wet, and worn out. Now with you goin to meet your maker, I figured you might be lookin' to get on his good side by helpin' me look into a tragedy, maybe bring that girls family a little peace...but if your looking for me to stick my neck out here, you're not hearing me..."

He gestured towards the door. "Now your jailor just let some stranger down here with you, alone, so I figure he's not too worried about your safety." He pointed out. "In fact, given he has to stand here and babysit a thief all day, I'd bet he'd be willing to pay good money to watch a real, live Minotaur beat the living shit out of some skinny condemned cripple...and he would definitely take money to watch it happen. We both know that." he stated matter-of-factly.

"So how about you tell me what I need to know, I help out this girls family, and you get to meet your death with a little dignity...or at least get to spend your last few  hours with some teeth still in your mouth...how's that sound?" he leaned forward now, swelling up and grasped the bars with his hands.

10:40, Today: Magnus rolled 8 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,3,1.  Intimidation (13).

Would a man facing death, protected and enclosed by bars of iron be prone to threats of violence?  It was a simple question, a question that was at least worth finding the answer to.  Especially if the alternative was trying to break that man free from a death sentence.  Luckily for Magnus, the answer to that question was undoubtedly yes.

At first, the thief smiles through his eyes at Magnus, the self-satisfied expression of the man who has something coveted.  Though as the terms of Magnus's counteroffer become clear, the man's eyes widen and pale, he steps back from the bars as he releases his grip, glancing uncontrollably in the direction of the guard, though the man is not visible from this vantage.

"No!"  The word is guttural and hoarse.  The man seems uncontrolled, his eyes flickering quickly between Magnus's face, his shaggy fists, and his dagger like horns.

It takes a moment, though the man seems to regain some small measure of composure.

"See, that's what I'm talking about."  The man offers in his best imitation of a winning voice, though he cannot bring himself to smile again and makes no movements back towards the bars.  "Get what you want when you want it do you?  It were the Magistrate it was.  Had the girl wrapped around his beck and call.  Bet he had all sorts, s'much money as he must have.  Busy man though, so I suppose he takes it where he can..."

OOC:  Nice idea and nice roll.  I was really looking forward to you trying to bust this guy out of prison though :p.

Magnus relented, and nodded at the news in brief contemplation.

The Magistrate himself, powerful, influential, and with his eye on the poor but beautiful girl who minded the laundry and mending of all things. A man who could ill afford the scandal of a natural child, but who played that game willingly with a young girl who was left to pay the price for his amusement.

His instincts had been right.

"Nothin' personal" Magnus told the prisoner with a slight shrug as a way of showing there was no lasting animosity. His tone having reverted to its former candor.

This was the first major piece of the puzzle had snapped into place. Now that he knew the identity of the Father, he was that much closer to discovering the origin of the Curse. It also absolved Daneel, which eased Magnus's mind a fair bit as now he was confident that he was working for an employer that had been unjustly involved.

But if there was in fact a curse, and Magnus thought it likely now, why had it been leveled at Daneel and not the responsible party? And how could he break its hold? From who or what had it originated?

He looked back to the Prisoner. "For what it's worth, I'll say a prayer for your soul. And what's more I'll see about your guard giving you something decent for a last meal. Thief or no, you've helped me, and God knows I've been no Saint myself." He nodded his farewell and turned for the exit. On his way out he did speak to the guard, and gave the watchman enough coin for two decent meals as a way of thanks before he headed back out into the street.

Obtaining the bit of information he had come for, Magnus drops his hardened demeanor, offering instead the meager olive branch of a kind word to the guard and a prayer.

Rather than seeming comforted, the prisoner is taken aback at the sudden shift and he approaches the bars again just as Magnus turns to exit, his face contorted into a snarl.

"You owe me!"  the man shouts at Magnus's retreating form.  "Remember that!"

As good as his word, Magnus makes mention to the guard of the prisoner and drops a pair of pennies on the desk to ensure he has a meal or two before his expected sentence is carried out.  The guard's reaction is somewhat incredulous, though Magnus does not press the moment.  He decides instead to get away from the jail.  He had at least done his part.

Magnus's thoughts consume him as he wanders the streets.  His intuition had been good... the Magistrate, in a position of relative power had used it over poor Margerie.  And it made sense why Margerie had told no one... despite the fact that she had surely wanted to.  Magnus wondered what sort of influence the Magistrate had leveled to keep her mouth shut.  If Mother Alice's case was any model, it seemed that the man held sway without even having to rely on overt threats of force, though threats had seemed implied...

Carried away by his thoughts, it is some time before Magnus realizes that he is back on the main street coursing through the merchant district...  There the White Heart and a little farther on Angel's Armory.

His hooves plod on slowly, though something lifts his senses from his preoccupation of thought.  The door to Angel's Armory stands just ajar, though there is no sign of Daneel or any customer within the show room.

OOC:  It is 1530.  Apologies if I took too many liberties with your character, but I figured moving things on was the way to go and that seemed the most straight forward way to do it.  You have time in the day left if you want to go somewhere else or if you want to talk to some of the other prospects you mentioned (the farmer or Margerie's father).

Magnus decided he could use a break, even just another cup of tea and the chance to be warm and dry for a bit, so approached the door and listened for a moment for any sign of Daneel moving around or working.

It did not seem usual that he would leave such valuable good unattended, and it brought him some concern, especially now that he knew that there were such powerful figures involved.

Ready for some sort of a break, Magnus looks inside Angel's Armory.

The first glance does not set his mind at ease...

To his right, the pauldrons have been knocked off their table, which stands askew.  On the other side of the room, the thick metal gauntlets have been disturbed and replaced, upside down.  Most concerning, Wyrm's Tongue, the two-handed sword which stood over the door leading to Daneel's living spaces, is missing.

Magnus is several steps in the door, his senses on high alert, when he hears the gruff, throaty sound of a man's voice from beyond the back door... and it is certainly not the soft voice of Daneel...

Magnus's big nostrils flares as he exhaled in frustration.

This was trouble he didn't need. Not only was Daneel potentially in trouble, or about to lose the tools he would need to make good on his commission, but the rest of the Minotaurs things, his armor and essentially his livelihood were at stake.

And from the voice, there were at least two of them, which of course meant that he would be outnumbered. How badly it was yet to be seen...

But if there was some consolation, he had his prized and ancient mace still in his bag. Not for the first time he was thankful that his friends had been willing to let him keep it after their campaign in the jungle.

He had taken to carrying a mace because it was we within the laws on bearing arms. As has been mentioned certain people took issue with a low born Minotaur carrying a weapon associated with Nobility like a sword or a polearm.

But a mace? Barkeeps used maces, bailiffs and their takers used maces. Common sorts. Sure it might not have the sheer lethality of a blade, but it was hard to break and versatile...and given that he was not keen on killing anybody within if he could help it. He was that much more glad to have kept it on him.

He slipped it from his bag, and cinched the loop of leather around his wrist before he opened the door the rest of the way and made his way inside.

Slipping the mace out of his sack, Magnus fits the lanyard around his wrist and slowly makes his way towards the door.  He wasn't sure what was happening, but by all the sounds, it was by no means good.

"I asked you where he..."

Magnus slowly pushes open the door, attempting to be silent in the effort, though not for the first time, he found it hard to muffle his hoofed feet on a hard-packed floor.

"Hey!"  As the door is barely open, Magnus can see a ruffian, thick with tatoos and scars standing at the alley door, immediately alert at his presence.  Magnus pushes open the door, finding two more seedy-looking men and Daneel standing closer to the forge.

Daneel is being held by one of the men, the other with his back to Magnus, holds Wyrm's Tongue precariously close to Daneel's throat.  In the dim afternoon light, the massive blade seems to glow palely, as if reflecting the warm afternoon colors back as a ghostly white.  In the moment where Magnus appraises the situation, the man with the sword turns, and readies the sword menacingly as the other man throws Daneel back, where he lands against the wall with a hard thud and a groan and slowly slips down to the ground.  He seems unharmed as yet... in the permanent fashion anyway.

"Ah. Saved us going out looking."  The man with Wyrm's Tongue sneers at Magnus, who holds for a moment as he tries to ensure there has been no lasting damage to his things or to Daneel.

"This is a friendly warning. Get out of town, and leave our friend here to his misery. Or you may find yourself amongst the detritus floating downriver!"

The man who has just thrown Daneel to the floor, reaches to a belt, which holds a long-bladed knife...



OOC:  Sorry the map is garbage - as always, I'm too lazy to learn new things.  The 'fire place' is where the forge is, with the anvil just beside it.  There is some small furniture, though everything can mostly be ignored.

I took some liberties, assuming that you didn't attack immediately in order to get in the dialogue.  Even if you had attempted an immediate attack though, there was no real chance of exploiting a significant surprise.  It seems the three men are happy for the moment to wait for the moment.  You do see your things and it doesn't appear there is any damage (or disturbance) to them.

Roll vs. Berserk.

Magnus looked at each of the three in turn, left to right, his mace held low and head down to the side. When the man spoke the Minotaur gave him the attention he was due, then nodded.

"Didn't have to get dramatic..." Magnus replied to the mess. "I'll clear out in the morning." he agreed, although how truthful that was he did not know himself. A lot would depend on Daneel, being his employer after all. But just in case he did his best to commit the men's faces to memory.

For now he wanted to avoided having anybody killed, especially in the man's shop.

"That it?" He asked in turn after a beat and took a few meandering steps towards where his shield lay proper up next to his bedding.

The irony of a friendly warning including death threats does not escape Magnus, and though he does not fear the three men, he has little desire to chance anyone getting killed, especially in Daneel's home.  Therefore, Magnus takes the diplomatic route, agreeing to get out of town...  Tomorrow.

The man with Wyrm's Tongue in his hands laughs snidely as Magnus sidesteps over to his things.  "I don't think you understand..."  Though he breaks off as his eyes trail over to the direction Magnus is heading and the large shield that is propped up against his bed.

"Kill him."

The man's tone immediately plunges into an icy coolness, he holds Worm's Tongue up in front of him in a double handed grip as the man next to him draws draws his knife and the last man near the back door rushes at Magnus, his club raised!

OOC:  If you wish, you may make a roll against Professional Skill: Guard.  It's not a time sensitive thing, so if you succeed, you can just put the results in your next post.  You have a ready mace in your right hand and an empty left hand.  You've moved a hex or two to the right, though your back is still up against the wall.  The man on the right of the map is charging you, while the other two stay stationary for the moment.  Post 1 second of actions.
 Expect that you can step and attack (the charging man) this turn.  As a sidenote, I rolled for Berserk for you and you succeeded... I figured the obvious attack on Daneel would make your blood churn.

At this point in his life, Magnus had killed a lot of men.

He was not especially proud of it, in fact he tried not to think about it very hard most of the time. But he had killed small and large, old and young, pink and brown.

But that experience meant that when the evident leader ordered the others to attack, he was not shocked. Worried and afraid perhaps, but not shocked.

There would be no mage here to patch him up, no arcane support to ensure that he stayed perpetually on the front lines.  But at the same time he was facing not demons, or magical constructs, or the undead but flesh and blood humans. Humans who were evidently used to getting their way among the relatively soft people of such a major city.

The Minotaur could practically feel the subtle thrum of built up energy in the mace as he turned his broad and shaggy head to the charging man, took a single measured step as he raised it up, and then brought the ancient weapon down hard from above towards the thugs left collarbone.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:29, Sun 10 Jan 2021.

"No!"  Daneel shouts, pushing himself up from the floor, though the action makes him grimace in pain.

In a moment, the thug with the club is on Magnus and there is no more room for thought.  Magnus steps forward to meet him, dancing away from the blow of his club before swinging down his own mace with a hefty swing.

The man tries to knock the mace out of the way with his club, though the attempt is slow, and Magnus easily beats the man's reactions.

Snap!

With a shout of pain and the sound of crackling bone, the thug drops his club and flies back several steps with the force of the blow before falling to the ground, his hands reaching towards his shattered collarbone.

Magnus's nostrils flare with satisfaction, and there is a moment of tense standoff while the remaining thugs and Magnus size each other up.  The man with the sword is holding it in a left-hand grip... though just a moment ago he had been grabbing it one-handed in his right...  Either way, that sword was going to be much more dangerous to Magnus than the relatively much smaller knife.

"Get him."  The man with Wyrm's Tongue hisses, and the two men step forward together, much slower and appraising than their comrade who collapses back into the floor, swooning from his wounds.



OOC:  Nice job with the quick work on one of the thugs.  Magnus is quickly getting the impression that these men are not professionals, but rather toughs who tend to prey on people who are isolated or who can't defend themselves.  The other two are coming in a more flanking approach, each on one side of Magnus.  Two more seconds of action please.

It all happened too quickly to think about it very much.

Magnus recognized that the man he had hit was out of the fight, it was a hard hit that sent a shock up his own arm from the impact, and he barely broke stride as he moved on, still outnumbered two to one.

The greatsword was a beautiful, massive thing. Better suited to snapping the legs of passing horses, breaking up spear formations and wading into pitched battle than a one on one duel in his opinion, it was none the less an intimidating and lethal weapon even in inexperienced hands.

But Magnus had faced long weapons before, and instinctively he drove in fast and hard to get in under the reach. Up close, face to face, that was where he was safest.

He juked, came in practically chest to chest with his left arm bracing the impact of the two meeting, and them suddenly and without a hint of warning he raised his right hoof up about a foot and drove down on the sharp side edge with all the force and weight he could bring to bear towards the top of the mans foot.

Almost simultaneously he glanced to the knifeman and prepared to lash out should he close for his own attack.

Without even a moment's hesitation, Magnus steps forward straight into the the swordsman's swing.  The effort is off-balance, made more difficult by the short ceiling, and it is late enough that Magnus manages to close the gap, receiving only an ineffectual slap on the side by the man's wrists and the handle of the blade.

Meanwhile, Magnus slams his leg down, raking his hoof down the man's shin, which catches just at the tip of the man's boot, smashing forward and down into the ankle joint which crackles with the sound of snapped kindling!

The man screams in agony!  The sword drops from his hands as he falls supine to the ground.
 He grasps his lower shin as he howls in pain.

Though Magnus is keen to watch the overconfident ass writhe on the ground, he has yet to take out the last of the men, who already is skirting around towards his flank, the knife dancing in a ready position.  Magnus turns to face him, bringing his mace around to swat away any blow, though the knife is too quick and it darts between two lower ribs, slicing through Magnus's thick skin in a trice and soaking his shirt with a thick trail of blood!

Magnus grunts with pain, though he manages to square off the fight, now facing only one man, and one with such a small weapon at that, Magnus is liking his odds much better.

"Call the guard!"  Daneel rises to his hands and knees, shouting as he heads for the back doorway.

OOC:  Successful stamp kick on the sword weilder which crippled and stunned him.  He's now laying on the floor, howling in pain.  His sword has been dropped down by your feet.  The man with the knife got in an aggressive lunge that luckily for him got through your defenses.  You are suffering from shock for the next turn, though with your significantly more powerful weapon, and natural DR, you find it hard to believe the odds aren't heavily in your favor.

Magnus was on a roll.

As he felt the bone snap under the weight of his hoof he felt the first flush of victory...two men in as many seconds was not something most could boast of.

But the sharp pain in his side, and the flash of the now bloody blade told him that he had been hit. How badly it was hard to tell.

But as he lashed out with the mace in a low sweep the twinge of sharp pain caused him to recoil mid arc, and he rolled his shoulder involuntarily as the neat hole in his side oozed blood into his fur.

His nostrils flared, he took a step away from the man with the shattered ankle beneath him, and he prepared physically and mentally for the next exchange.

The knife wound burns in Magnus's side as he swings his mace too quickly, rolling his shoulder and missing the mark.

Still, the swing seems to do the job, for it checks the man's progress.  Half-way into another lunge, the man falls short, his eyes focused on the mace, his knife falling well short of its intended target, though he ducks in behind the blow, stepping to within a few inches as he readies his knife again!

OOC:  I'm not sure the map is going to add much for the moment for the tactical combat.  You are in Close Combat at the moment, though you can move backwards as part of a step and attack.  At the moment, you are close to the center of the room and have 3 hexes of retreat if you go the long ways.  You are no longer under any stun penalty.  I forgot to ask you to make a Berserk roll again after that last hit.  Please do so now.  2 more rounds of action.

Magnus, in retreat, and followed closely but the last man standing, felt slow and cumbersome next to the lightning thrusts and quick footwork of his assailant.

But despite the frustration, his mind kept relatively cool given the stress of the situation. Although of course he did not note it at the time

So in desperation he lashed out wide and low in a powerful sweeping arc, the head of the mace cutting with a deep sound through the air. Legs, knees, feet. Magnus did not care what he hit, so long as it kept the man out of easy stabbing range.

Magnus's blood boils within his veins, though to the best of his ability, he fights the rage from overwhelming him.  It would be all too easy to let it go, to let it take him... but Magnus knows that they would all be dead within moments, and the chances that Magnus would too were all too dangerous.

Instead, Magnus pivots away from the man's knife, a wild blow which likely had no chance of ever succeeding, and swings his own overhand swipe with his mace which he guides all the way down to the man's foot.

Crunch!

Magnus has known the breaking of bones.  In Perdition he had even taken on skeletal undead minions which crackled and snapped as they fell to the floor, their magic and their structure severing in the same moment.  Still, the sound catches Magnus somewhat by surprise.  It was not a mere break, but a pulverization that seemed to give way to the mace until it rebounded off the stone floor below.  In an instant, Magnus knows that the man will never walk again.

Magnus is prepared for the scream the moment after, but that too, seems to catch him by surprise with its intensity.  The bloodied knife flies from the man's hand as he falls to the ground, his pestilential cries piercing the room like dagger thrusts.

"Call the Guard!"  Daneel cries from the doorway again, though with a look back, he sees that the last of the toughs is on the floor, and his body seems to sag with relief and exhaustion.

OOC:  Wow.  That was quick.  Magnus really is a combat powerhouse.  Your foe missed his thrust and then failed his dodge, and your strike permanently ended his foot.  For all intents and purposes, the combat is over and you can feel free to take whatever action you like.  The first thug with the broken collarbone has been knocked unconscious, though the other two are still awake and seem fairly tortured in their pain.  They could still have tricks up their sleeves though.  If you wish to question them, roll vs. intimidation or other appropriate skill.

In the way that a punch can seem reflexive, like the unconscious clenching of a fist, and the way some people punch things to relieve anger in a moment of passion, so it was with Magnus.

But different.

He was built to gore and trample people, as terrible as that sounds. All those same urges applied, but in his case the urge to just lower his head and charge was as powerful as it was seductive.

Those thick bone plates, the way the vertebrae lined up perfectly, the heavy rope like tendons and generous shock absorption all the way down to his shoulders and collar bone. If anybody had ever seen two rams go at each other in the rut, it gave a person a good idea of the kind of tremendous impact that could be generated.

But he held back. The fear, the fear of the guards, the fear of the mob, the fear of a jail cell or a rope kept him at bay.

Civilization and all its byzantine law and punishments kept him at bay, even as a man was trying to stick him, puncture something vital, and leave him bleeding out on the floor of the Angel Armory.

Even as the mace powered bone and compressed flesh, veins and blood into a thin mash, at least the man would live. Well, he would probably love...if they took the foot off cleanly before it went septic.

Magnus found that he was not even breathing that hard, although he was bleeding freely, and that stick hurt and throbbed even through the adrenaline.

He raised the mace for a second strike, paused as the man ceased any real resistance, and then lowered it slowly as he looked around and took it all in.

He pressed his hand to his wound, uttered a groan of pain and consternation , and looked to Daneel. "You alright? Did they get you?" . Once he had his answer he turned, kicked the knife into the corner with his hoof, and then approached the man who had held the greatsword.

The Minotaur loomed over him with his broad, shaggy head cocked. The blood flecked mace still gripped in his hand.

"Who sent you?" He asked in a low rumble.

Magnus turns his attention towards Daneel, who seems winded, beaten, but not permanently damaged by any stretch.  The man shakes his head at Magnus's question, slumping down with his back against the wall now that it seems clear that the danger has passed.

With an assurance that Daneel is alright, Magnus turns his attention towards the man with the knife, questioning him, though it seems clear from the outset that the man is capable of little more than grasping his worthless extremity and howling in pain.

Patiently, Magnus waits.  Twice, he tries to speak out over the man's cries.

Eventually, his patience wanes and Magnus raises his voice over the shrieks.

"My fucking foot's gone!  It's fucking gone.  Damnit!  Mother, god, fuck!"

Perhaps Magnus would have to become more assertive to get the man's attention...

OOC:  The intimidation attempt failed despite the already lopsided balance of power due to the fight.  That plays out through him screaming and seemingly unable to concentrate on what you are saying let alone answering you.

I want to give you a chance to get answers, while at the same time keeping the game moving.  I'll give you your next post post to try any further ideas (one or many) to try and get the three to talk.  Feel free to include ultimatums about what you will do (and then doing it) if they don't talk.  Note that there are 2 men awake, the one with the knife and the one that had the sword.

Frustrated by the lack of progress, the sharp pain in his side and the screaming, Magnus shoved his mace back in his bag, hauled up the other man who still had some of his faculties, and slammed him up and over the prominent anvil in the shop.

"Hey! Hey. Don't you go out on me." He commanded angrily. "You want that foot to rot off in jail? Cause that's what's gonna happen if you don't start talking. You hear me? Who. Sent. You?" with one hand steadying the man the other reached over, perhaps a bit too obviously, for one of the nearby smithing hammers.

Magnus takes a moment to recompose himself, stuffing his mace away before gripping up the other man, the one who had seemed the leader of the group, and throwing him savagely over the anvil, his dagger-sharp horns on full display.

The man grunts in pain, though he does not cower and shout like the other who still rolls about on the floor.  The man's face sours, however, as Magnus demands information and reaches for the largest smithing tool within reach.

There is a moment of impasse, with the leaders face stern and unaccommodating, before he finally starts to speak.  "I dunno his name.  Skinny bloke, gaunt.  A mess like he hadn't washed or slept in days.  Said a minotaur's been poking around where he shouldn't.  Gave us a hundred in coin to run you out of town and let us on to where to find you.  Never seen him before."

Magnus is nearly ready to narrow his questions, or else bash the man's face in frustration, when Daneel's voice rings out from the doorway off to Magnus's right.

"Here!  They're in here!  Please, come quick!"

With a frustrated growl Magnus threw the maimed man back down onto the floor, before he tossed the smithing hammer back into the workbench.

He stood there for a moment, breathing deeply and bleeding slowly but steadily onto the floor, before he put pressure back on the wound and went to stand by Daneel with a sideways glance at the three men.

Now came the truly dangerous part, thought Magnus. Having made a powerful enemy, perhaps the Magistrate himself, and being now at the mercy of the Guards that could very well be in his employ.

But what could he do? He had tried to defuse the situation. He had even offered to leave, although how sincere he was even he did not really know...it had happened so fast.

On the face of it they were certainly in the right. Three thugs barge into a shop, hold the owner at swordpoint with his own wares and then attack the next person that comes through the door. Of course it was self defense. He had even gone through pains not to kill them despite his own life being out at great risk.

But would the Guards see it that way.

"In here!" He joined his voice with Daneels, and prepared for the inevitable interview with his hands empty.

Magnus hurls lobs the smithing hammer back down onto the bench as he lets go of the man who then tumbles down to the floor.

While he wanted more, Magnus was not about to let himself be caught threatening an unarmed man with a smithing hammer.  He knew well enough that he often gave a poor first impression as it was.

And indeed, much as Magnus had suspected, the guards' first reaction upon entering the door was to reach for his weapon in shock, though Daneel manages to deescalate the situation quickly.

"Noo!"  The man shouts, putting a hand on one of the guard's weapon arm.  "It was these!"  He points to the three men on the ground, the leader of which had now pulled his back against the wall to sit, his leg clutched protectively against his chest.  "They attacked us!  Magnus waylaid them, and took injuries for his efforts!"

It takes a moment, but the man is swayed, and upon a further look at the three men he seems well convinced.  "I know these."  The guard admits.  "Ruffians, deserve no better than they got.  No worries then.  I'm sure the stocks or transportation will steer them to making better decisions."

It takes some time, with the thugs hobbled as they are, though within a half hour the three are gone along with the guards and Daneel has tended to Magnus's knife wound which still prickles painfully.

Unwilling to press his luck any farther at the moment, and submitting to the request of Daneel, Magnus decides not to make another excursion until the morning.

---

When the morning does dawn, Magnus wakes refreshed...  Though he had some skepticism when he had rubbed the paste all over himself the previous night (it smelled more like a rub for a lamb roast than any sort of poultice that Magnus had ever seen), Alice's balm seemed to do the trick, killing or discouraging whatever fleas had remained from the previous night, at least enough for Magnus to get a decent night's sleep.

Magnus finds Daneel already awake and tending to his own breakfast, his demeanor almost chipper, though in appearance he does not appear to have been remedied at all from his curse.  Thick shadows still pool underneath his eyes and he still moves with a weariness that does not seem to match his thick-set frame.

"Good morning!"  Daneel calls when he sees Magnus awake.  "Today is the last day of this curse, I can feel it!  Where shall you go today?"

OOC:  It is 0700 on the 8th of August.  You still have a significant wound at your side, which pangs painfully when you try and twist, though it seems that the bleeding has stopped and it has started to scab over.  Your updated HP is noted on your character sheet.  I opted to fast forward, both because it alleviated things for me and because it makes sense from a character perspective as far as I can see.  The three thugs were taken to the prisons (the same ones you visited yesterday) and if the normal precedent holds, they'll be tried for their actions in court in about a week's time (the next day the courts are open).  Let me know how you want to start off for the day.

For all that he had endured the previous day, in comparison to what Magnus had been through on the past year, the situation was not so bad.

To start, he had a roof over his head and a fire in the hearth. He was dry, cozy on his bedroll, and well fed. There had not been the danger of scavenging animals or a Wazifi raid, and he had not covered any real distance the day before in comparison to the fifteen miles or so he normally tried for when travelling cross country.

So despite the nagging stab wound, and the knowledge that a powerful figure was likely even now plotting his ruin, he was doing alright.

He took the time to wash his face and hands with soap, combed himself out, and even trimmed up a bit around his face in the mirror like polish of a cuirass that was sitting on a rack. He also changed his bandage, the new scab intertwined with clumps of his shaggy fur.

Breakfast was some more tea, some boiled oats and slices of apple. And as he ate he chatted with Daneel about all he had done and found out before, although he protected the identity of some of his sources. It was nice, really nice in a way, to share a meal with some company. It reminded him of Finn and Gustav, Judoc and  Giles as well as the many meals they had shared together.

"Well I'm gonna give it my best shot" Magnus assured him with a low chuckle. He had the critical piece, that the Magistrate was the likely father of Margerie's illegitimate child. He also had a description of the man that had hired the thugs that had attacked them the night before.

What he was missing was the conduit for the curse itself, as well as any evidence concerning Margerie's body that might point to foul play.

But even assuming that the young woman had indeed been murdered to prevent a bastard from complicating things for the Magistrate...why did the curse target Daneel? Should it have not logically targeted the Magistrate himself?

Unless the curse was not from Margerie at all, but rather someone working on her behalf...who simply has the wrong target?

"I 'm hoping to speak that that farmer that found Margerie. See if I can learn anything there. After that... likely gonna try to find an expert on these things, cursed and the like. Or better yet, a way to contact a friend of mine who's an expert in these sorts of things. A Mage. He'll likely be able to point me in the right direction, or failin' that, maybe a way to break the curse outright or protect you." Magnus explained between spoonful's of warm oatmeal.

"What are you up today?" The Minotaur asked in turn.

Daneel nods along with Magnus as he relays his plans for the day.  "Sure."  Daneel agrees.  "I'm sure there are those who can break these things or track them down, though I doubt there are any surer ways than simply turning a strong will and a sure weapon towards the one who made the curse."  Daneel chuckles.  "It seems you're close... close enough anyway that they're sending thugs to try and tromp you out of town!"

Magnus turns the conversation towards Daneel's plans, and the smith merely shrugs his shoulders.  "After yesterday I think I may close and lock the shop for the day.  I haven't sold anything for weeks, and there is little left anyway to buy.  I'd rather disuade anyone else from trying to find me here as a soft target."

OOC:  Not sure if it was your intent, but I'll stop here in case there is something specific you are looking to achieve with the conversation.  let me know if you want to go looking for the farmer, and if so, where you want to look for him (either in the market in town or at his farm outside of town).

Magnus asked Daneel if he might have a spare key so that he could leave his things there, and after he said his goodbyes he struck out for the Market.

Being Sunday, he assumed that the man would be at Church, but it also being the weekend he figured that he might set up his stall after the service in order to cater to those heading home.

Magnus and Daneel work out the arrangements of making sure Magnus can get back in the store and then the former makes his way out into the street, heading towards the market to see if he can find the farmer that discovered Margerie’s body.

Despite the fairly early hour on a Sunday, where Magnus assumes that the market will be competing with church, Magnus finds the market has plenty of vendors and shoppers to make the place busy.  After asking a few questions here and there and an hour or so of searching, Magnus does manage to find where the man normally sets up his stall, though he finds the space empty.

”Found all of ‘em dead they did.”

Two men stand talking in low tones a few steps away from Magnus as the minotaur takes a moment to reassess his strategy for the moment.

”All three of ‘em dead in their cells, smothered.  ‘heard they had a fit on the guard, couldn’t tell anyone what happened.”

Magnus looks over at the two men, who for the moment have not recognized they have his attention.

Magnus had been feeling pretty good all things considered. Despite the occasional twinge of sharp pain from his stab wound, and the general anxiety of being in a large city, he felt well fed and rested, even optimistic as he headed towards the market.

But the rumor he had overheard changed all that, and he felt a pit form in his stomach. He had little doubt that they three men who had died were the same three that had assaulted him and Daneel at the Angel Armory. Likely cursed by the same force that had afflicted Daneel.in the first place.

But what was this force that could, and would kill in such a way and at such range? What sort of Mage could reach out and snuff the life from three grown men? Unless...that same person had personally travelled to the place where they were being held...

Perhaps this was his best chance at a lead after all. Although the danger was mounting significantly.

Since he was already at the Market, amagnus continued the search for his Farmer, but his mind was already working towards how he might go about finding out who had visited these three dead men so recently as the night before.

Magnus does not bother the two men for more details.  What he had heard was enough to assume the rest.  After all, hadn't he already seen that the jails had been nearly cleared but for the one man that Magnus had interrogated the previous evening?  All told, there were only four men that the rumor seemed that it could have applied to, and it made the most sense that it applied to the three men who had been sent to run him out of town...

His mind occupied with the news and thinking of how to exploit it, Magnus keeps searching the markets for his farmer, though he meets with no luck.  It seems that the markets is abuzz with the gossip of the murders, however, for Magnus sees several small groups huddled and conversing in hushed tones, and various women rushing through the streets, their faces taught in looks of fear and suspicion.

"If people a'int safe in a prison where are they safe?"

The whisper drifts by Magnus's ear, voicing perhaps the very thought that was on everyone's mind.  Magnus remembers that these three murders were not the first...  Whoever was responsible for this curse, it seemed, had quite a lust for blood...

OOC:  it is 1100 on the 8th of August.  The cathedral has just let out their sunday morning service and the streets are becoming clogged with pedestrians, heading one way or another.  Most do not seem outwardly fearful, though there seems to be a thick blanket of apprehension that was not so clear in days before.

Having met with no success at the market, the next stop was not one he looked forward to.

The jail was the next stop, as it was likely there that he would learn who had come and gone in the last twelve hours or so. While he did not hold out much hope that the lone thief would be talkative if he was still there at all, the guard that Magnus had treated well the previous day...that was much more promising.

And he had bought them meals...hope against hope that little bit of kindness might pay off.

What Magnus dreaded, is that the one responsible for this string of murders and the father of Margerie's child were one in the same.

If the Magistrate was the one to deliver the curse, or to have it arranged, what then?

Seeing that he wasn't making any headway in the market, Magnus makes his way back to the jail.  Perhaps the interned thief may not be so agreeable... but if luck were on his side, the guard may be able to shed some light on what, exactly had happened.

Magnus finds almost as soon as he gets there however, that gleaning information may be a little harder than he imagined.

"No visitors!"  A man shouts from the guard station as soon as Magnus has opened the door.  A glance inward shows Magnus that the man at the desk is no longer the same as the one who had been stationed there yesterday.

"Scry for gossip elsewhere!"

OOC:  Feel free to roll vs. Diplomacy again.

Just my luck

Magnus thought to himself as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, and quickly determined that the guard on station was not the same as the day before.

"Not lookin' to cause trouble sir." Magnus assured the man with a disarming gesture. "It's just that I was stabbed by one of the men you're holding and I was looking to see about getting compensated by him, seein' as how I'm goin' to be laid up for a while." Magnus undid a few buttons on his shirt and opened it to reveal the banded wound.

It was not entirely true, sure, but was  believable enough in Magnus's mind. The vast majority was factual after all, and since he anticipated being kicked out anyway, a last ditch grab for any information he could glean before he left seemed worth it the effort.

Magnus rolled 13 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,5,4.  Diplomacy (11) Modify reaction.

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.

"Yeah...that makes sense" Magnus agreed as he lingered on the threshold. "But that's easier said than done. How do you track something that seems to come and go as it pleases? Something that seems to be able to move like a ghost?" he asked in a mostly rhetorical way. He obviously did not expect her to answer. And it still did not explain why Daneel of all people ended up the victim of such a person.

If the Magistrate was the one he was looking for, how would he confirm such a thing before making his move?

But maybe that was it...maybe now that he had his target, he just needed to confirm it so that he could take more definitive action...

Alice looks at Magnus quietly for a few moments, her one good eye sizing the Minotaur up with a piercing gaze.  Eventually, she shakes her head.

"I wouldn't know."  She sighs.  "Maybe you are trying to answer too many questions."

Alice smiles with an empathetic face, her eyes still on Magnus as she waits with the door half closed.  "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"No no, sorry for bothering you. Thanks for seeing me at least, and good luck." Magnus waved to her slightly as he left.

As he walked along the street, he reviewed mentally all that he had learned.

Daneel believed he was cursed for his connection to his apprentice Margerie and her suicide after her pregnancy out of wedlock. Some had assumed them lovers.

But Margerie was more than likely involved with the Magistrate of the Court where she laundered. A wealthy and powerful figure, a "natural" child would have hurt his standing in society and his professional reputation severely.

The kind of man who could potentially arrange to hire three out of town thugs, through an intermediary, to assassinate the Minotaur looking into the case.

The kind of man who could potentially arrange for the guard to not respond for up to an hour as an unknown creature murdered those same thugs after they had failed in their task and been arrested.

But while the evidence pointed to the Magistrate, Magnus still did not possess the "why" of why Daneel had been cursed of all people.

Why would the lover of a girl who had taken her own life, hate one of her last employers? Vex him so?

Did he fear that Margerie had told him? Was he trying to drive him out of town to tie up the last of the loose ends?

Was Daneel more involved that he had let on? Not her lover perhaps...but im some other way?

Had the tragic death of the young woman and her unborn child resulted in some restless spirit?

Magnus heaved a great sigh. He was accustomed to watching trade goodd and glaring at miscreants. Not picking apart intrigues...

He decided that he would attempt to find the home of the Magistrate, and to see if there was perhaps some vantage point he could watch it from. Perhaps he would learn something about the man's activities? Or perhaps he would find this "cadaverous" intermediary there in his employ?

With all the rumors making the rounds, perhaps he would have some other interesting visitors?

Magnus had reached an end of sorts.  Part of the story he saw so clearly.  The Magistrate and Margerie, their love affair and their baby.  His aversion and her despair.  But that was where the clarity stopped and the fog began.  Who had been the one responsible for the curse, and why had it targeted Daneel?

Magnus saw no clear way to those answers, and only one man left to question... the magistrate himself.  It seemed to only solidify the way in Magnus's mind that the Magistrate was clearly implicated in the death of the three thugs...

Magnus asked around and found it quite easy to locate the Magistrate's home.  Alston Manor was by no means a small house.  It was perched on a small hill just a ways over from the cathedral, surrounded by a chest-high stone wall with a modest lawn and garden for a city home and with a large, circular drive and carriage house in front.  As Magnus took in the obvious wealth, he wondered if really the direct confrontation was his best idea... and yet he really had no others.

Magnus knocks on the oaken doors, which are shortly answered by a balding, middle aged man in servant's attire.  "Sir Alston's been expecting you."  The man says before Magnus even has a chance to ask if the lord of the manor is home.  "He'll take you in the library.  This way."

Magnus follows the man through a wide and open front hall, streaming with natural light, towards a door on the side which opens up into a rather large library with two walls of books and one of windows.  Several plush chairs adorn a corner, one of the side tables hosts a small wooden box and ash tray and Magnus can smell a faint smoke hanging in the air.

"He'll just be a moment."  The servant explains as he shows Magnus in the door.  "Make yourself at home."

It is perhaps only a minute more before the Magistrate, Sir Richard Alston, walks into the room.  He is well dressed, his shirt with lace at the cuffs and a highly embellished collar with simple, black riding pants and boots.  He has a simple green cap clutched in one hand, and he walks briskly, with a purpose towards Magnus.  "Yes?"  Sir Richard starts, coming to a stand a few steps from Magnus, who towers over the man by a head and shoulders together.

"What is it that I can do for you?"

There had always been a certain amount of risk inherent in Magnus's life. The ability to exist somewhere safe, working in a mundane profession had been denied to him from his earliest days.

It had driven him into his current occupation, a Mercenary for lack of a better term, where at least the risk was periodically rewarded.

And here he stood yet again, not on the battlefield, but in no less danger. The man in that library could have him arrested, and Magnus would have little recourse. The Minotaur knew this, but it was a calculated gamble to order to potentially get access to better equipment...reducing his risk in the future.

Such was life.

"Good evening, thanks for seeing me." Magnus smiled politely, reflexively, and nodded, his hands seeking out the strap of his messenger bag for lack of anything else to do with them.

"I figured it's about time me met." He said a little wearily. The man's majordomo had betrayed that Magnus was already expected. If he could approach this meeting from a position of strength, if he could convince Sir Alston that his reputation or status was at legitimate risk, they both might get through this is one piece.

But the man had to be convinced that it was not already too late, that there was something to be gained as well.

"Before anything got out of hand. Well, even more out if hand" he shrugged. Three men and a girl were dead, one man's livelihood was on the verge of ruin.

"Is it safe to talk here? Do you need to send anyone away?" There. An invitation, a suggestion of discretion, and a little silence in hopes that the man would open up and begin to talk, or maybe even bargain.

Sir Richard glares at Magnus with an expression of stoic distaste.  He grips his cap with both hands at his front, his eyes narrowed, his shoulders pushed forward as if readying to fight.

Still, the man does not move, but answers Magnus's question crisply.  "It is safe, I fear not prying ears in my own household.  My staff has the utmost discretion."

"Alright..." Magnus crossed his arms and nodded. "I won't waste your time them. What's it going to take to stop all this?" he asked directly.

He did not want to drive too deeply into the man's embarrassment. This was a person who was obviously unused to being at a disadvantage, and the Minotaur was not looking to aggravate him, just to solve the problem.

That problem being the perceived curse upon his Client. Given that the men knew full well where to find him, and that they had shaken down Daneel, Magnus assumed that the man knew full well what he was talking about.

But if he didn't, well, that would be revealing in itself.

"To stop this?"

The magistrate lilts his voice, though his eyes are dead set upon Magnus's.  The man does not seem afraid, nor angry... just tense and determined.

Magnus had always been a little nervous of men of power.  Men who controlled other men, who controlled the law, who in effect controlled him.  It was an odd situation, here, in Sir Alston's library, where there were no soldiers, no courtroom, not even Sir Alston's servants at the moment.  Here, Magnus clearly had the upper hand... at least for the moment.  And yet Magnus thought he sensed some of that same nervousness about the magistrate that was so familiar... and the stern refusal to let it control him.

"I'm afraid you will need to be more clear.  I am a busy man.  I have much to do."

And yet, despite the words that seemed to shrug Magnus off, the Magistrate stands stock still, his eyes glued upon Magnus as if waiting for the blow to land...

"To call it off." He clarified, having made his overture. The fact that the man was still hiding after being confronted irking him a bit.

"Three men are dead, other cursed...It needs to stop. No more murders. No more curses. Any of that. People are noticing anyway...if it had not been me to puzzle it out it would have been someone else. At least I'm willing to work with you...if you'll be honest with me." he offered. Stil avoiding some of the terms he might normally use in the hope of a less dramatic resolution.

It worked to the man's advantage, or so Magnus thought. The Minotaur was practical, and while bringing the man to justice would have been ideal...the world did not always work that way.

If he could just get it to stop, that was more realistic perhaps. And it solved the problem, at least long enough for Magnus to brief Daneel, get his things and get the hell out of town.

Not a great fix, sure, but Magnus would take what he could get. He felt.in over his head.

As Magnus hurls his implied accusation, You've killed three men and cursed another, delicately worded as it is, the magistrate seems to be a man coursing with emotion.

"I had nothing to do with those three men!"  The anger comes first, his eyes bulging at Magnus as his jaw squares forwards.  "I wanted them gone!  Banished from Rapahael, but not killed.  I..."  He rips his gaze away from Magnus shaking his head.

"I wanted it to stop.  I told him to stop, that things had gone far enough.  I told him to leave things well enough alone..."  The magistrate's tone sinks, the anger siphoned from his voice all in a moment.

"I thought he understood... that he was asking for more money so he could leave...  But clearly that is not his intent."

The magistrate walks to a large backed chair, flopping himself down with his head sagging slightly.  "I don't know what to do."

Oh shit

Being inhuman came with certain disadvantages, but he hoped that his broad, flat features did not betray the realization that he was likely after the wrong man. Maybe one degree removed, maybe not blameless, but the wrong man none the less.

He shifted his weight, his big nostrils widening slightly as he exhaled, but that was the extent of it. His mind raced to catch up, to think on his feet, to roll with this new revelation. Luckily for Magnus much of this occurred as the Magistrate was making his way over to the well upholstered chair

The gaunt man. It had to be him. Hired perhaps? Involved for other reasons? But the man behind the monster.

"Well, I think we still have some options." Magnus offered in a lighter tone. A counter-point to the mans despair.

"You want him gone, I want him gone...and what's more, I want to be gone myself." he suggested. "If he's gone way past your initial agreement, maybe we could work together to solve both our problems?" he shrugged as he approached to stand by the chair. "It wouldn't even cost you anything, not on my end. I just need information, and your word that all this is gonna' stop once he's been dealt with."

"Information."  The magistrate repeats the word, not as a question, but as a tired statement, or perhaps as a reassurance.

"Yes."  Sir Alston shakes his head.  "Nicolai was recommended to me by an old friend in Craine.  It was chance, I think, more than anything that brought him here and started everything.  He needed work... of a sort anyway, and I was seething..."  Alston squints his eyes hard, the muscles in his jaw tightening.  "Still seething.  A wreck.  I wanted to make Daneel pay, and I'm sure I said so.  Nicolai mentioned that he could it if it was my wish.  In my suffering I accepted."

Alston's brings his hands to his face, overcome by the moment.

"I'm afraid if you wish to know what he did or how, I cannot help you.  I knew only that he had powers, I did not even at the time know how maliciously he used them, how he rejoiced in the suffering of others.  I have tortured myself over bringing him to justice this whole day, but in truth I fear him...  What he could to do me physically, yes, but also how one word from his mouth could ruin me forever, and everything I have built."

"I am not proud."  Alston looks up at Magnus as he returns his hands to his sides, his face flushed with emotion.  "If you wish to deal with him on your own I would be thankful for it.  I believe is is staying at the White Heart, though I know little else of his activities..."

OOC:  Roll vs. IQ.

Tracking down information on this sordid arrangement seemed to have taken a great deal of time and energy. Every impression, every rough guess had been pried from strangers on the streets of Raphael. Some had been afraid, other reluctant, some surprisingly generous, and now the information came in a stream so steady that Magnus found that he had trouble keeping up.

His basic premise seemed to have been correct, this Magistrate, Sir Richard was the nexus. He had been responsible, in a way, for the torment that Daneel had suffered. That he had gone through an intermediary had not been known at first, but it was perfectly plausible. Instead of a majordomo, this Nicolai essentially sounded like a mercenary presence. In addition, like many who employed mercenaries, this man now found himself afraid to confront the very element that he had introduced.

Magnus felt like he had a good idea of what he was looking at now, and a direct way forward. He could deal with this Nicolai in a few ways, ways he would need to consider further before he acted. But a nagging wonder still remained...what had Daneel done to deserve such attention? What had the Smith done to warrant such obvious, intense anger from this man?

Did it really matter? As long as he got paid? That was a good question...

Would he betray himself as being ignorant if he asked?

At this point he decided it was best not to stir the pot any further. Sir Richard was in obvious distress, and he could find out in other ways. He had the mans cooperation...best not to risk it.

But before he replied, something stirred in his mind at the mention of the White Heart...

13:37, Today: Magnus rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 2,1,6.  IQ (10).

Magnus wrestles the question of whether or not to pry.  What had Daneel done to earn the wrath of the Magistrate?  Why had the whole situation erupted as it had?  And most importantly, did it matter enough to ask?

No.  Was the simple answer.  Digging, especially when the Magistrate seemed to be so cooperative, would likely only invite more trouble.  Nicolai he could deal with...  And he knew where he was.  The White Heart.

The White Heart.

It had been the first place he had attempted to visit in the city and seemed it would be the nexus of his stay.  Perhaps he had earned enough good graces with William Howell the owner, and the servant girl to give him some leeway.  And that thought, of the server, brought back the moment of their meeting.

"Don't you know there's a murderer loose!  Nearly scared me to death!"

Nicolai was at the White Heart.

Then another memory... this one of Alice... "The girl, they say she died screaming next to her husband in their hotel room..."

"Don't you know there's a murderer loose!"  Magnus sees the server's shock...  Her fear...  The murder had been in that inn.  "Nearly scared me to death!"

He was at the White Heart... but what else was he doing?  Where else could he be now?

"Sorry, the man in twelve is something of an ass."  The memory comes unbidden.  The servant girl again, shaking her head.  "Wants his room cleaned but never wants to leave it."

Magnus tried to maintain his more reserved countenance, but the recollection of it all made it difficult. He had been so close this entire time...had practically stayed at the same establishment. But now he had a clear direction.

"I can take care of it." Magnus told him with a slight series of nods. "I won't even ask for pay, all I'd like is your word on some legal protection, whatever you can give, if things go south." he raised up one hand as if to preempt some protest  "Now I'm gonna be careful, and then I'm gonna leave town...more or less for good. But I draw a lot of attention, and no plan's perfect. So if the worst comes to pass...can I count on you to do what you can? " he asked Sir Alston directly. "Your word as a gentleman would be enough for me."

That he would drop things with Daneel was implied, but he thought better of demanding it outright. He wanted the man to feel like he still had some control here, not like he was being extorted, and given that Magnus was essentially agreeing to kill a man in cold blood on his behalf, he did not feel that it was a lot to ask in exchange.

The Magistrate holds Magnus's gaze, his brown eyes glittering with emotion, though he manages to keep the rest of his demeanor in check.  It is several moments however, before his begins to respond in a slow and stunted manner.

"I... cannot condone such crimes as the Lord himself hath deemed unforgivable."  Alston hesitates, his words caught in his throat.  "But many such crimes have been served with banishment before, and would not draw ire if they did so again.  If there is proof that Nicolai has taken lives of his own... all the better."

Alston pauses again, his eyes flickering wildly as he bites his lip, though he looks Magnus full in the face before he continues.  "If you fix this, I assure you shall not face no worse than banishment by my hand...  You have my word."

Magnus nodded, matching the gravity of the Magistrates tone, glanced to the ground, look back up and nodded again. "Alright then..."

His arms still crossed he stirred from where he stood, not in any particular direction, but enough to convey that he was about to leave.

"Never fun, dealing with this stuff. Buts it's the way of the world I guess." He sighed lightly. "If it all works out I doubt we'll see each other again. So unless you've got anything else, I think I'm gonna take my leave." he began to move towards the door he had entered through, feeling a little dirty. It was not the first time in his life, and it would likely not he the last. But it really was the way of the world.

He needed armor to keep him safe, so he could get back to his family or start his own some day. Just about the only man who could, or would make it had a problem. Magnus was the solution.

The Minotaur just hoped it would be over quick, and that he could leave the city behind him sooner than later.

The Magistrate merely nods in response, still too overcome to offer Magnus anything more.  Magnus takes his leave, walking mostly alone until he is nearly at the front entrance, where a servant graciously walks him to the door.

Magnus's walk to Angel's Armory is filled with the grim justification for his planned deed.  He was just a Minotaur, just doing a job, to just get on with his life.  Even as his hooves beat out the slow walk back to the center of town the last of the light ebbed away from the dusk, leaving only the darkened rain clouds which still loomed overhead.

Magnus manages his way to the armory, though once he gets there he finds the door still locked...

OOC:  It is 1900 on the 8th of August.  You have a key to the Armory, which you can feel free to use if you wish.

Magnus heaved a sigh as he stepped into the dark Armory and locked the door behind himself.

With a little effort he lit a candle, and once he could see properly he stifled a yawn as he set out the makings of the tea, what was left from their time in the jungle.

As the pot warmed and the leaves nudged into his cup, he found himself once again alone. It was in this solitude and the contemplative mood that he found himself thinking about his recent confession and the reasons for the lengthy conversation with the Priest.


Magnus had killed several men, including one that had been accidental. In fact he had geared up with the others to specifically hunt down and kill a mage, not once but twice. Mages that had been dealing in the Dark Arts.

So why did he already feel guilty about this one? Was it any different? Was it simply because the man resided in a little inn instead of a great tower or a mouldering jungle ruin? Surely it was not a sense of unfairness?

Was it because this man had been hired to do his grisly work? Was it because Magnus was now, in a round about way, working for the very same man that had first hired said mage? We're Nicolai and himself not so very different?

Yes...yes, that was a factor, he admitted to himself.

There was also the unsettling notion of killing in cold blood. Would Magnus had knocked either of the previous two on the head if he had been able to catch them unawares? Almost certainly.

But that had not been the case. They had both known what was coming for them. There was something more disturbing about setting out to ambush a man in a peaceful setting. Even a reportedly evil man.

Magnus had long been a killer, but he had not considered himself a murderer. Even for a good cause.

He let out another long, anxious breath and ran his calloused hand over his face.

Was he just being nieve? This mage had  made Daneel's life hell, had deviated from his bargain with the Magistrate, and had trafficked with God knew what to kill those three thugs, among others.

He would be a damn fool to insist on some kind of equal contest. Chivalry was for high born Knights and those swordsman types from Arraterre, like Gustav.

He missed Gustav. Never one for a lot of conversation, but never shy in a fight.

The water was boiling.

A plan came to him with a little effort. He would sleep, clear his mind, and take breakfast at the White Heart. He had eaten there before and it would almost certainly not cause any alarm.

Room 12.

If he could get a good look at Nicolai, confirm his mark, perhaps as the serving girl went in to deliver breakfast or remove the chamber pot, he would be in a much better position.

From there, he could potentially find a place to post up and wait, long and boring work, but when Nicolai did come out, and he eventually would...that would be the time.

And if all went well, he would never come back.

And he would have his armor...and be away to Three Corners.

Magnus took a sip of the steaming beverage, nodded to himself, and settled down into a chair.

Ugly business, it was true, but business it was.

Magnus was a fighter - a mercenary if you will.  But he did not gauge himself a murderer.

Was it because this whole thing was premeditated that it sat so poorly with him?  Certainly he had killed.  He had even killed men.  The worst was probably Mika'il, who he had killed on accident, shattered his arm so badly that the boy had died of shock while he still hung from his useless appendage which was rooted within the stone of a cave wall.  Magnus tried not to blame himself for that, after all, it had been an accident...  And it wasn't his idea to try and smash the rock with the mace...

This killing would be no accident.  It seemed quite clear that was what the Magistrate expected... and perhaps Daneel as well...  The fact that Magnus was plotting this man's death, no matter how heinous his crimes, sat upon him like the morbid rain clouds that still clung to Raphael like lichen on a stone.

Magnus drank his tea and tried to force the vile task of the morning from his mind and sleep.

He did not have much success.

But sleep or not, the morning comes, the dawn blotted out by the dark grey of the skies.  Magnus wakes early and notes the weakened frame of Daneel shaking slightly in his restless sleep.

It would all be over soon.

Magnus makes the short trip to the White Heart and sits at one of the tables, bidden by the same server who seems somewhat less talkative this morning.  More abrupt.  Magnus orders his breakfast, alone amongst the half-dozen tables, waiting for fate to catch up to him...

OOC:  It is 0630 on the 9th of August.  Apologies if it seems like I skipped over lots of things just to stop short of any real concrete action.  I wanted to give you at least one post to let me know what preparations you would take, what armor you would wear, what weapons you would bring, etc.  I tried to skip over the things that I didn't think would have a bearing on the story, but feel free to add in details where you think are pertinent.  I tried to forward your brooding with the melancholy themes of the thread, hopefully that hit somewhere close to the mark as to how you would play Magnus.

The warm, black coffee helped to breath a little life back into the haggard looking Minotaur as he sat roughly facing the direction of his target. At the very least he hoped to recognize when the room keepers were starting their rounds, and then to be in the right place when room 12 opened up.

It had been one of those nights where he simply could not get comfortable. Either too warm or too cold, his stab wound itched and throbbed and he could not find a good position. He envied humans the ability to sleep on their sides, or their stomachs. And while he was sure he had gotten some sleep, he had no idea how much, and he felt no more rested than he had the evening prior.

He had left his armor behind once more, the same clothes he had been in for some time on his back. And he had taken his satchel with the mace, nothing different, nothing more threatening, nothing to arouse any more attention from the local watchmen than he had to.

If all went well this would not be a stand up fight anyway...

He busied himself somewhat by repacking his little first aid kit, folding the linens into neat little bundles, and by nursing his coffee as he waited for the morning rounds to begin.

OOC: A great job, as usual :)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:11, Thu 20 May 2021.

Magnus sits and waits, drinking what remains of his coffee as he searches for activity with all of his senses.

The server hustles back and forth amongst her many duties, shuffling linens between rooms, sending sheets to the wash bin, picking up whatever remnants remain of the early crowd while absently waiting on Magnus, though by this time the minotaur causes her relatively little trouble.

William Howell, the owner, sits idly at his desk.  He lords over the small space where the room keys hang, each hook numbered for each room.  It seems worth noting that the key to number twelve is missing, though in truth it seems most of them are.

Somewhere behind Howell and through another door, Magnus catches the occasional clang of a heavy pot or pan, or the scrape of copper cooking ware.

Everything seems in its place.  Quiet but for the normal buzz of a moderately sized inn.  At least... until it isn't.

"Can't I even get a god damn cleaning!"  A voice rages out of sight.  William perks up in his chair, his eyes immediately traveling down the hallway beyond Magnus's vision.

"You've done both of those even this morning, and barely even touched mine since I've been here!"

The voice seems to be getting louder.  Magnus thinks he hears a few murmured words from the girl, though the man cuts her off, shouting all the louder.  "I've had it with you!"

The man steps into view, approaching William, ready to bark out more of his tribulations, though his gaze falls upon Magnus for a moment.  There is no doubt it is Nicolai.

The man's features are striking.  His eyes pale brown eyes are sunken and purpled like a man who has not slept.  His collar bones thrust themselves from his skin, just visible under the wide-necked shirt.  His short brown hair and clothes are mussed and tattered here and there.

For a man so concerned with his room being clean, he seems to have taken no care for himself.

Magnus's memory fires as he reaches down for his sack.  This was the same man he had nearly bumped into when he had been fleeing from the courthouse.

"Never mind."  Nicolai nearly spits over his shoulder, as he forcibly breaks his stare at Magnus and redirects his walk towards the door.  "I have somewhere to be anyway.  By the time I come back it'd better be clean!"

Magnus found himself scrabbling, mentally, to process the event as it happened.

He had been there, attentive, but also thinking about what he would like to order for breakfast, and about the pretty waitress, and about Daneel's Involvement in the while mess, when low and behold, there he was.

There had been no need for any sort of sneaking around and spying, no, but now he was behind the ball. He had lost the initiative.

As he processed Nicolai's presence, made an effort to commit his features to memory, and fought back the urge to leap up and act with his adrenaline flowing fast, he recognized that he had himself been recognized.

That they had seen each other before, and that he was very likely suspected.

It was few moments after Nicolai had stepped out into the street that Magnus was fumbling with his large hairy fingers for currency even near to what he owed for his coffee. He paid a little too much, shrugged on his bag, and the chase was on.

He endeavoured to look casual, although how effective that was he could never be sure. He tried to see where the man was going before he was out of sight. There was every possibility that, now spooked, he would leave town all together.

Or he might seek out the Magistrate.

Or that he might formulate some sort of magical defense.

Whatever Nicolai's plan, Magnus did not want to lose him. Not know. Not after he had worked so hard to find him.

While he was not about to sprint through the streets of Raphael after him, at least a direction of travel would be invaluable.

Magnus is unprepared for the quick entrance and exit of Nicolai.  He fumbles for his purse, splattering down a handful of coin for the coffee as the murder storms his way to the door.  Before Magnus stands from his chair with all of this things in hand, the man has already shoved his way out of the front door and into the street.

Magnus hastens along after the murderer.

What Magnus fears worst, that he will lose Nicolai, never to be found again, does not come to pass.  Though neither does his intention of following the man quietly.

"What?!"  Nicolai screams the word immediately as Magnus pushes his way through the doors of the White Heart.

Nicolai turns his body fully, facing Magnus from a dozen paces away.

"Why must you follow me, you, you, you monster!"

Despite the dreary day, the streets are filled with travelers, many of whom hustle along on their way, though several stop to gape at Nicolai, who's eyes are wide and staring, boring into Magnus before he even has a chance to step into the open.

Magnus notes that many of the people are staring at him too...  Well, he always did attract attention.

OOC:  You and Nicolai are approximately 12 yards apart with a crowd of twenty or more (of varying states of caring) surrounding you.  Unfortunately, despite your intent to follow, your default skill at shadowing didn't quite keep Nicolai unaware (you also may have a slight penalty due to being a minotaur) and Nicolai decided to make a scene rather than let you continue quietly.

Magnus wanted to appear in control, confident, dangerous. He cracked his broad neck and stood a little straighter.

But he was tired. He was wounded, and stared at and he hated crowds, hated them even in his childhood. This was not his element, and he was knee deep in affairs he knew little about. He had just wanted some armor, and now it was all a mess.

And so he dropped the charade a few moments after he has adopted it.

"Don't do anything stupid Nicolai" he said instead. It was less of a threat and more of a plea, although he had not intended it that way. Magnus did not know this man, and so he couldn't hate him. Not really. And the last thing he wanted was to have it out here, in the street, with witnesses and innocents standing all around.

He began to close the distance, slowly advancing, wondering just how desperate this man had become and wary should he try any tricks he had seen his own Mage friends cast. They could sail up into the air and rain down fire, turn into birds. And those were just the ones he knew about

Magnus approaches the man slowly, not expecting a confrontation so quickly, his rumbling baritone doesn't seem to have the brass behind it that Magnus had intended.

Nicolai does not flinch.  Instead, his face contorts in rage and he closes the distance with a few steps too, his voice high and shrill and on the verge of shouting.

"I say again, why do you follow me?  Tell me now or leave me be!"

Magnus notes that the man's hand drops to his hip where a wide-bladed axe hangs from his belt, though he does not make any move to retrieve it yet.

"You know damn well why." Magnus shot back. "There's three dead men and a bunch of other trouble that you need to answer for." he continued, not slowing, although he did bring his satchel around to the front to give him easier access to his weapon after he saw the man clear his own for action.

Then it occurred to him, if he could provoke the engaged man into attacking first, he could claim self defense. It was messy, but it was what he had to work with, and he was thinking on the fly.

"Curses, consulting with familiar spirits. These locals may not know a witch when they see it, but I sure as hell do."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:32, Sat 29 May 2021.

"BASTARD!"  Nicolai screams, tearing his sword from his scabbard with his right hand as his left hand reaches about his chest, gripping at something under his shirt.

Passersby squeal as the blade is unleashed, one man's voice shouts, "Call the guard!"  While another yells, "Good God man!"

"You will die for your insults, beast!  You abomination!"  Nicolai steps forwards, one hand still hanging about his chest while the other is choked up to the hilt of his blade, pointing it Magnus as he slowly closes the gap.

OOC:  You are 5 yards away from Nicolai, who has a ready sword in his right hand and is taking step maneuvers to close the gap with you.  Assume you can draw your mace in one turn.  Roll 3d6 labeled 'Reaction' with your normal negative modifiers.

Magnus knew the folly of a duel, some three feet of sharp steel against his own magically charged weapon. Neither combatant seeming to wear armor, in a Raphael street no less.

This would be over in a few seconds, whatever way it went at least. The first blow likely the last.

He felt his blood quicken in that familiar way, and unceremoniously drew out his ancient mace to meet the threat.

By God it never went easy, that was not the way of things for him.

Nicolai had the range, but Magnus obviously had the strength. If he could close to well within the arc of that lethal blade, he might have a good chance, but much would depend on that moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:14, Sat 05 June 2021.

Not entirely ready for things to go to blows, and highly conscious of the fact that the two combatants are surrounded by an increasing number of spectators, Magnus never the less pulls the ancient mace from his sack, brandishing the weapon defensively as he steps forward.

But before Nicolai charges or swings his weapon, something else happens that takes Magnus by surprise.

A monster.  A thing hardly larger than Nicolai's head, though it is hunched and bent forward like a cat preparing to strike, blinks into being perched on Nicolai's shoulder.  The thing is all upper body and arms, with squat, legs and ears that fly out like bat wings.  The thing grins a wicked smile of razor sharp teeth before it launches itself clear, landing on all fours.  Its spindled fingers stretch out upon the ground and its claws scratch the stone of the walk.

Magnus had known that the crowd would not support him, although perhaps, they would not tolerate Nicolai either.

"Necromancy!"  A man in the crowd shouts, though his voice is cut off by yet another and louder scream, "GUARDS!"

Magnus swivels his head and steps to the side, attempting to keep both of his foes in front of him as the monster circles.

"MURDER!"  A woman screams from the front of the crowd.

OOC:  Yup, that was not a good reaction roll.  No action quite yet.  You are at range 3 to Nicolai, who is still slowly stepping forward.  The monster makes a sort of equilateral triangle, also about 3 yards away from each of you, and seems to be trying to circle around to your rear.  I'll get a combat map up next time to make things a little more clear.  None of the crowd are close enough that you need to worry about them getting involved (yet anyway).

Magnus had not woken up that day spoiling for a fight. He had planned to collect information, to confirm his target, maybe to strike an opportune blow should the chance arise.

But he had not planned at all on brawling in the street, much less unarmored, much less two against one. Numbers made all the difference as he well knew, and while he had single handedly taken on three men a few days before, he had been stabbed in the process, and he had been defending Daneel.

Now there was nobody to defend but himself, and his enemy had revealed himself, publicly.

It was time to go.

The Minotaur glanced to the small creature, recognized its intent, and turned on one hoof before he fled at a full sprint in the opposite direction. Nicolai may be a mage, and he may have help, but he did not look especially strong or fast, and Magnus had been conditioned by his life on the road.

He was far more confident in his ability to outrun both of them, then to stand toe to toe in a fight.

Without even a second thought, Magnus turns on his hoof to flee.

Nicolai seems to gather his intent and charges forward, the sword slashing out wildly, though Magnus sees the blow coming and swivels his body as he turns, the blade missing his still raw side by a few inches.

And then the Minotaur is gone.  His hooves churn under him in the speed of a full charge.  A spectator gasps and jumps out of his way, a look of horror on his face at seeing the monster come straight at him, horns on full display and mace in hand.

But in another moment, the man is behind him and Magnus is sprinting down the length of the main street.

"See!"  Nicolai's voice shouts hysterically behind him.  "The Monster flees with his pet!  We must chase him, we must kill him!..."  Nicolai's voice seems to rise in tone as it fades, replaced only by the sounds of hooves striking the cobbles underfoot.

Magnus continues to run full tilt, his nostrils flaring from exertion.  Ahead, the foot traffic of the morning continues to stare at him in astonishment, fleeing to the sides of the road, looks of confusion and fear washed across their faces.

OOC:  Nicolai managed to take a swipe at you as you turned and fled, though you successfully dodged the blow and seem to be outdistancing him, at least by the sound of his voice.  This represents about 30 seconds of running and about 200 yards of distance down the main street.  Make 3 rolls vs. HT for fatigue, each failure will cost 1 FP.  Also make a roll vs. Perception please.

It was like a nightmare....

A god damn nightmare...

Running, running for all he was worth, but feeling slow. Feeling tired. Feeling scared, outnumbered, and up against forces that didn't make any sense.

How did he know? How did he know that Magnus was terrified of being swarmed by a mob? Was he just clever? Did he have some kind of mind reading powers?

What would he do now?

Edging closer to panic despite his best efforts, Magnus continued to run for his life down the streets of Raphael.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Sat 19 June 2021.

Magnus's hooves churn the cobbles underfoot, his breaths coming in raking gasps as he runs as fast as he can remember.

A woman ahead of him screams, though Magnus ignores them as he continues.

What would he do now?  Had he failed?  What would happen to Daneel?  What would happen to him?

As if to punctuate the farsighted folly of these thoughts, Magnus feels a dull thud against his shoulder blade that off-balances him for a moment before he catches himself in stride.  But as he slows and turns his head, he feels the long, thin fingers that flex around his left side and on to his collar bone.

The thing was on him, and Magnus could see its face and teeth pointed towards him and spiked with malice.

OOC:  This represents one turn of slowing down (done to regain your balance).  You may opt to slow to a stop where you are or keep running at full speed if you wish.  You are grappled by the little monster, though it doesn't seem that he is doing anything to slow you down apart from just weighing you down a little.  Let's do combat rounds here.  If you wish to slow to a stop to take normal attack maneuvers, you need to take one "move" maneuver in order to slow down to a pace where you can just step.  You have your mace still ready in your right hand and your left hand is empty.  Let's do 2 combat rounds to start, although if you have something other than combat in mind, feel free to post general intentions and I'll take things as far as seems sensible.

Magnus was pulled from his somewhat fatalistic thoughts by the bodily impact of the creature latching onto him.

Magnus slowed to a plodding jog, shifted the mace onto his off hand as he did so, and then reached up with his right hand in an attempt to snatch the creature from where it sat, his big, calloused, fur backed hands lunging up, over and behind his broad head.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:25, Sun 11 July 2021.

Magnus slows down, swapping his mace to his off hand as he comes to a stop, thinking to bodily hurl the beast from his shoulder.

But even as Magnus gropes back with his hand, he feels the monster's grip shift to his neck, both spindly hands wrapping around, the dagger-like fingers meeting at the front near Magnus's larynx.  Magnus tenses his muscles, feeling the thing's grip tighten in an unsuccessful attempt to crush his windpipe.

Magnus's right hand finds one of the beasts's forearms, and though he strains to pull the thing off, its grip seems stronger to break than Magnus had expected...

OOC:  Ok, you have slowed to a stop, and managed to grapple the beast by the forearm.  However, your contest of ST to break free came up short.  It seems the beast is quite strong despite its diminutive size.  You are both grappling each other now, you with one hand on the forearm, him with two hands around the neck.

I have a feeling this combat could take quite a few combat turns with little changing.  If you want, you can give me your general intentions and I can set them in motion until something changes, or we can play out the combat using turns to keep your options open, over to you.  If you want to do turns, let's do at least 3 seconds.

The more Magnus struggled to comprehend how this little thing was still holding on, the more the Minotaur was convinced that he was simply not pulling hard enough.

It would come loose. He just needed to put his back into it.

But he also needed to keep a look out for the creatures master, and this he did, as he turned in place to watch his back, simultaneously trying to pry the creature off.

Magnus grips the thing's forearm, leveraging as much as he can of his upper body strength to try and rend the thing away from his neck and shoulder.  The fingers continue to squeeze though, and the jabbed end nails digging into the skin around Magnus's throat.

Despite his best efforts, Magnus has a hard time prying the thing off; it only seems to cling closer to his back and shoulders, digging in with its clawed toes to whatever flesh it can grab.

And so, several seconds play out.  Magnus trying to lever the beast away as the beast attempt to crush Magnus's windpipe, neither of them getting much in the way of an advantage.

Until at least, the beast attempts to shift his grip, his free hand shifting from Magnus's neck to his face, the stubby claws raking the flesh over his eyes.  With an enormous effort, Magnus rends the grappled arm free, throwing the beast bodily over his shoulder as the clawed fingers and toes scrape painfully at his eyebrows and side.

Still the beast is off!  Hurled down to the stone where he strikes with a single shoulder before pushing back up with his hands in an attempt to right himself.

OOC:  This represents 4 seconds worth of action.  Neither of you seemed to have an upper hand until the gremlin tried to switch up its tactics and go for an eye gouge.  You've taken superficial damage to the face and side, but are no longer grappled.  The monster is one hex away from you and looks like it is quickly recovering to his feet.  Your mace is ready in your off hand, switching will require another ready maneuver.

Magnus bled freely from the small, wicked cuts in the thick hide covering his face and neck, where they yawned pink and oozed, but not to a degree that would endanger him any time soon.

But the pain was a potent motivation, and as the little familiar tried to scramble to its feet, the Minotaur stepped back and loomed up, shifted his prized mace into his right hand, and then stepped forward with an expert over hand blow.

The weapon whirring through the air with an ominous sound as the head threatened the crack the very cobbles of the street, and to potentially obliterate anything it met along the way.

It was driven all the faster by a gutteral snort that flung flecks of spittle from Magnus's wide nostrils, his mouth hanging open slightly and his off hand clenched in a tight fist.

With a snort, Magnus shifts his weapon into his right hand and hurls it down towards the fallen imp, but the thing moves with obscene speed!  In a flash, the thing has pushed itself to its feet and skitters out of the way of Magnus's blow, which fall down on the cobbles, smashing the stones into pebbles and powder!

The thing for a moment lowers itself to all fours, then lunges again with its foreclaws outstretched!

Magnus has only an instant to react, though he manages to swing his body out of the way just in time, and the imp sails over his left shoulder.  Magnus continues his turn  to face the beast, and likewise the imp hits the ground a yard away, swinging its legs behind it as it turns to face Magnus, its pointed teeth bent into a gruesome snarl.

OOC:  The imp moves very quickly and managed to get to its feet while you were switching hands and managed to make its dodge against your attack.  Unfortunately, since you attacked, you cannot also use your mace to parry that turn so I elected to have you dodge, which you succeeded.  You are now at range 2 from the imp who is turning back towards you to set up for another attack.

Lets do another 2 seconds.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:29, Thu 15 July 2021.

Magnus felt confident that the thing would attack again. While he had no idea what it was, some sort of demon perhaps, it seemed persistent, malicious and aggressive.

And so he prepared for that assault, and as fast and as small as it was, he needed every edge he could get.

Could he strike it as it came in for the next attack? Would they be back to wrestling if he missed? And where was Nicolai?

Magnus hesitates for a moment, shifting his tactics to increase his chances of hitting the thing.  What he needed was a moment where the beast couldn't squirm out of the way of his mace... and the perfect moment seemed to be while the thing was launching himself forward for another grapple...  It would be a tricky hit for certain, but Magnus did not want to give the thing a chance to get another grip on him.

The thing lunges and Magnus swings.

Thunk!

Just barely the edge of the mace catches the monsters arm but the force of the blow sends him spinning off to the side some six feet away from where the Minotaur stands.  The monster hits its back and Magnus wastes no time stepping forward and bringing the mace down in another devastating blow.

Crunch!

The blow catches the monster in the chest before he is able to make his feet again.  Its skin buckles like a beetle's shell and it has its mouth open in a silent scream for a single moment before its body erupts in orange flame....

It only takes a moment to reassess the situation.  Three men and a woman stand at a distance to Magnus, watching in open-mouthed horror.  "He's here!"  One of the men shouts, pointing directly at Magnus.

OOC:  Nice change in tactic.  You barely made your parry with the feverish addition, but it caused enough damage knock the creature back a hex or two and put him on his back.  It seemed silly not to have you attack after that, so I went ahead and rolled a normal attack using your +1 for evaluate, which hit, and the monster's defense failed.  It seems the thing is 'dead'.

Roll vs. Hearing -4.  If you succeed, PM me before your next post.

Magnus let forth a rare grunt of satisfaction, a concession to his baser instincts, as the mace connected.

Anybody who had watched matches between trained pugilists would recognize the the mental process that the Minotaur went through upon realizing that his enemy was down. A half second, and the entire posture and momentum of his body changed, and the mace fell solidly , squarely, with an audible crack as it acted like the hammer to the anvil of the cobbled street.

Magnus felt the heat, and thought that he smelled something strange as the thing erupted into crackling flame.

It took another moment for his pointed ears to swivel like a horses might, and the Minotaur was once again trying to make himself appear less menacing than he was.

"It's alright" he told the onlookers as he slipped his mace back into his bag with clear and unhurried motions. "It's allllright..."

He turned and look at the three men and the one woman. "You saw what happened right? You'll tell them I killed it? Please?" he asked in his rumbling voice, his hands now splayed placatingly and to demonstrate that he was once again unarmed.

As the monstrous little beast burst into flame, Magnus puts his mace away in his bag, shifting his eyes to the four people watching.

He implores them... they saw what he had done, the good that he had brought, the evil that he had destroyed.  Of course, Magnus knew all too well that sometimes all people remembered was the evil.

One man stands staring wide-eyed at the charring pile of imp, crossing himself as he murmurs under his breath.  Another is looking at Magnus with his mouth agape.  The woman turns to flee as soon as she realizes Magnus's attention has shifted.  The last, the one who yelled, returns Magnus's look, his eyes fixed and jaw set, though he keeps his distance and makes no moves.

Behind him on the road, Magnus can hear hear the swelling shouts of a crowd.  Angry voices that cut across each other, muffling the noise into one incomprehensible din.

By God he hated cities...

Whatever was going on down the street, whatever was going on with Nicolai, Magnus knew he needed to stay away.

Here was one man who had followed him, hoping to get involved, hoping to accomplish something. That terrible, excitable instinct like a spark that threatened to spread.

But it was just the one for now. While Magnus was understandably disappointed that the others had forsaken him, at the least they were not looking to get involved. They were not egging each other on or advancing.

He could work with that.

"Well, I did." He shrugged and gestured to the smoldering pile. "I killed that demon, and you can see where he scratched up my neck and face while I was doin' it" he craned his neck a little to one side for emphasis.

"And now I'm gonna go tell Father Litle, because he should know what's happened." he added mostly to the one with the set expression.

Magnus was less concerned with informing Father Litle that he had killed the familiar and more concerned with getting to the Church. It was the one place he could think of where people's baser emotions would have trouble taking hold. The magnificent edifice, the symbols of Christ's suffering, the presence of the Clergy. They all helped to discourage the sort of street violent that sounded like it was breaking loose, or about to, just down the way.

Magnus really wanted to head back to the White Heart first thing to secure evidence, including anything that might condemn the Magistrate, but much depended on what the onlookers would do.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:00, Sun 25 July 2021.

For what it was worth, Magnus explained himself... quickly... and then fled.

He had many things to do...  things that would protect him from the Magistrate, he had to tell Daneel what had happened.  For the moment, however, he had no thought but to find some sanctuary from the shouting, frenzied mob.

Magnus's hooves churn on the cobbles again, headed this time towards church circle, though he took care not to brave the main thoroughfare but to take the side streets and alleys when he could.  Magnus was not thoroughly familiar with the city, but he knew enough by now, and it didn't hurt that the Cathedral was the biggest building in the city, set upon a small hill that made it seem to tower over everything else.  All the while, Magnus could feel the thrumming mob shouting and vibrating like a building tornado...

When Magnus makes the Cathedral, he finds himself not at the front, but at a side door which is marked as Saint Luke's Chapel.  Thankful to have made it without incident, Magnus pulls open the door to find himself in a much smaller space than the main sanctuary.  The room is dimly lit by a few stained glass windows near the door, though there is enough light to make out the main features of the room.

Several rows of doubled wooden pews sit at the back near the door.  A narrow carpet straddles the pews, leading up towards the altar at the front, which is adorned with thick candles and a single, massive tome.  A pair of doors are near the back of the chapel on either side.  Placed just ahead and below altar is a large, stone sarcophagus.  The top is carved in the shape of a man lain to receive his last rights, eyes closed and arms crossed with a thin baton laid over the center of his chest.

Just before the tomb, kneeling on the edge of the dais is father Litle.

The priest turns his head as the open door casts a massive glare upon the room, standing up and facing Magnus.

"Yes my son?  What can I do for you?"

OOC:  I know you didn't really specify direction to start off with, but in my head, you initially ran away from the Cathedral and the center of town when you were trying to get away from Nicolai, so if you were to run straight for the Cathedral, you'd have to do it on the main drag, straight back through the mob.  Therefore the whole discussion about side-streets, etc.  To the best of your knowledge the mob was not able to find/follow you to the cathedral, though you felt as if you could hear them the whole way there.

Do me a favor and specify what you want to tell Father Litle.

Magnus felt exhausted as he plodded the last few dozen feet to the door of Saint Luke's Chapel.

It was not the familiar fatigue of physical exertion, he knew all too well how to live alongside the constant discomfort of working in armor or in the heat, covering long miles on foot and otherwise enduring the long miserable hours all too familiar for a career soldier.

No, this was more mental. His stab wound ached and throbbed, the newer more shallow cuts itched and, scabbed and cracked again. A wide array of scenarios weighed on his troubled mind.

But most of all was the sound of the mob. He could hear the low collective roar that resounded off buildings and carried down streets. The cacophony of angry, excited, fervent voices. Magnus may have approached his violent profession from an eminently practical and even mundane mindset, but these people, laborers, shopkeeps, servants and craftsmen...this was a rare opportunity to indulge in the different.

What Magnus felt was basically an excuse to express all the bottled up frustrations , frustrations aggravated no doubt by living in such a close packed, filthy, stinking, anxious collective.

The roar of the mob, that's what turned his stomach and made him feel so very tired. It haunted him.

Whatever was happening out there, it was bound to be ugly.

"Sorry to bother you again Father" Magnus greeted him, breathing heavily with his hands on his hips.

"So I mentioned that evil spirit last time I was here?" he paused to see if the man remembered. "Well, I was looking into things, and sure enough...I found the man I was looking for, a Witch, by the name of Nicolai."

His breathing slowed a bit as he continued his explanation. "I was not looking to confront him, but he spotted me in the street and called me out, I accused him, and before I knew it he drew a sword on me...and what's more, he had a demon with him, and he sicked it on me first thing."

Magnus held out a big calloused hand in a placating gesture. "Now I know Father, your flock probably sees a demon or imagines one every other day. But I've killed one before, and while I'm no expert, this thing sure looked like one...about yea high, pointed ears, sharp teeth and claws, all stooped over with big eyes...fast and vicious.".

Magnus licked his lips. "Well I ran, it being two against one, but that devil ran me down and jumped right on my back...cut me up" he stepped forward  into the light and craned his neck to display the injuries. "Strong...strong as a big grown man. But I pried him off and killed him, or sent him back, I don't know where those sorts of things go...but it burst into flames with this awful smell when it went down, sort of cracked like a big egg. I can't help but think that your blessing made all the difference."

Magnus shook his big shaggy head. "But while all that was goin' on, I heard all sorts of screaming coming from the way Nicolai went, and you'll forgive me Father but most people get real spooked when they see me comin' on a good day. Some looked downright scared when they saw me runnin' from that demon."

He pointed towards the door. "Well I don't know if they stoned him to death or what, but it sounds like a small army out there, and the first place I thought to go was here with you. Can I stay with you for a bit till things calm down out there?" He asked with a hopeful expression.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:07, Tue 27 July 2021.

"It's what I'm here for."  Father Litle smiles as Magnus apologizes for the inconvenience.

He offers the minotaur a seat on the pew and listens as Magnus explains his story.

Father Litle is a good audience, nodding his head to show that he is following along, widening his eyes when Magnus shows him his scratches, and avoiding any interruptions or gestures of disbelief.  Still, Magnus cannot help feeling somewhat... patronized.  The man dons a knowing smile as soon as Magnus brings up the topic of demons.  One that seems to suggest that he may understand the matter as well or better than Magnus does himself.

Still, Magnus finishes his tale without straying, adding at the end a request to stay at the Cathedral for a short period of time.

"Of course!"  Father Litle replies quickly.  "Sanctuary is what the church provides, from all evils, including the passions of men.  Feel free to stay as long as you like."  Litle opens his arm up, gesturing towards the rest of the chapel, though the relatively small space and the dominating feature of the large sarcophagus perhaps does not offer the inviting scene to do Litle credit.

It matters little, for almost as soon as the priest gives Magnus offer of sanctuary, shouts can be heard from some other areas of the cathedral.  "Father Litle!  Father Litle!"

One of the back doors opens with a snap and a fire-haired youth of some fifteen years peers his head through the crease.

"Oh!  Pardon me sir!"  Magnus is somewhat surprised by the term, though the youth immediately shifts his attention to the priest beside Magnus.   "Father Litle, they caught the murderer!  T'was a witch father!  They're going straight to the Magistrate for a public execution!  They say they caught him in the act of Necromancy!"

OOC:  It is 0800 on the 9th of August.  Litle has granted your request of Santuary, and no one has bothered you for the length of your story, which has been something on the order of 10-20 minutes.

Even those few minutes at the Cathedral explaining himself had allowed Magnus to calm down quite a bit. Not only did Father Litle seem to believe him, but he did not seem especially surprised, and that gave the whole interaction an unexpected smoothness that left the Minotaur wondering if he was missing something.

Everything had been so difficult over the last few days that to suddenly have something go easily was an unlooked for but not unwelcome change.

So much so that when the young man burst in as Magnus was proceeding into the larger chamber, it was almost a return to normalcy.

And Magnus struggled to keep a smile off his face. "Well...there ya go" he gestured with an open hand to the boy and looked to the Priest. As if to say that his story had been validated by the news.

But could he really be so fortunate? Had his bungled pursuit, his flight from the familiar spirit unwittingly solved his problem? Had Nickolai been so brash, so careless as to put himself into the very hands of the man he had vexed?

Oh, how he wished it would go well.

If Lord Alston could arrange for a summary execution, in theory that would wrap everything up more smoothly than Magnus could have hoped. Daneel is rid of his curse, the Magistrate is rid of the problem that he had introduced into the equation and Magnus would get his armor.

Margerie was still dead, tragically, and Magnus wondered if the fact that he had unraveled Lord Alston's secret would rankle him to the point where he might do something foolish, again. But that was a worry for another day.

After a brief consideration, Magnus decided that his attendance at the trial would cause nothing but trouble. No, now was the time to seek out his employer. To explain what he had learned, within reason, and to gather up his things.

If all went well he would have little reason to brave the streets of Raphael again for the next few weeks. He could stock up on food and help Daneel with the commission. If it went poorly, well, Magnus would have his things on hand whatever may come.

He thanked the boy and gave him a small coin for his trouble in his relief, and after waiting another twenty minutes or so in the safety and serenity of the Cathedral, he thanked Father Litle once more and began to make his way back towards the Angel Armory.

"Easy..."  Litle responds to the boy, who Magnus realizes is wearing robes of his own, all white though in contrast to the Father Litle who has both white and black, with the traditional priestly collar wrapped around his neck.

"Just not let ye be judged, John.  History tells of of many witches that have burned for sins they never committed.  Judgement is for God... and the magistrate if it comes to it... not for you or I."

The boy nods his head in a sort of staccato bob.  It seems he has more to say for a moment but he catches his tongue before whatever it is.  "Yes Father."  He answers as he hurries out of the room, but not before Magnus has had the chance to toss him a farthing in appreciation for the news.  Father Litle offers the minotaur goodbye as he recedes to the back of the chapel, following the boy back through the door.

The crowds dispersed, at least here, Magnus finds himself leaving the Cathedral and heading to his employer.  Much has happened which seems only to have helped his cause.  Magnus had not killed Nicolai, but he had forced the man to expose himself.

It was the best of both worlds.

Nicolai would be put to death by the law...  a much more civilized ending than Magnus crushing the man's bones with his mace in some wayward back alley.  It saved Magnus too...  no matter Nicolai's evil, Magnus had not been looking forward to murdering him in cold blood.

Now, all Magnus had to do to wait for Daneel's curse to clear was simply wait for fate to run its course, which seemed guaranteed to turn more quickly than the weather, as the stubborn clouds and dismal rain seemed to refuse to give up on its hold...

These thoughts carried Magnus all the way to Angel Armory and into the door and the emptied shop, and through on to the small living quarters behind.

Magnus has half started with his story, pushing himself into the room, before he stops in his tracks.  Though he had said goodbye to Daneel just that morning and the man, though weathered and pale, had looked no worse than when Magnus has met him.  Now Daneel was back to laying on his bed, his blanket pulled tight around his body, which was shaking in wracking shakes, though the summer morning is not cold.

It is a moment before Daneel realizes that Magnus is there at all.

"Seems I've caught a chill."  Daneel smiles wanly as he looks up at Magnus for a moment, though his pale features and his sunken eyes are all that Magnus can take in for the moment.

Daneel turns back over, wrapping the blanket ever tighter over his body as he continues to shiver...

OOC:  It is 0830 on the 9th of August.  Roll vs. First Aid.  On a success, it's clear that Daneel is doing very badly, though no immediate treatment comes to mind.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 20:41, Wed 04 Aug 2021.

Magnus's relieved expression fell as he beheld Daneel. "Ooooh...my friend, I hate to tell ya', but you're not lookin' your best." he came over to stand by the bedside, although he was at a loss of what to actually do with the Smith. YEt another moment in which he remembered the days in which the Mages figured all this stuff out.

"But I have good news, I think we're close to solvin' your problem" he managed a faint smile of encouragement, not wanting to let on his fears. "Let me brew you up another pot of tea and fix you up somethin' to eat real quick, then I need to head out for a bit."

As Magnus was trying to make Daneel more comfortable, his mind was ablaze. Would the curse cease once Nicolai was dead? Was there something in his effects over at the White Heart that would give some clue to his condition? Or had he truly been played for a fool by the Magistrate?

Tea, food and encouragement delivered, Magnus made his way with a purpose towards the White Heart in order to let the proprietor know what had happened with Nicolai, and to collect any evidence he might find.

Instantly cued to Daneel's worsening condition, Magnus brews a pot of tea and prepares a meal, bringing it to the bed where he sits Daneel up in a position to eat.  Daneel, however, does not make it far, a few sips of tea and a bite or two before he smiles weakly and begins to lay back down.

"Thank you...  but I think a bit of rest...  should do it."

Magnus notes that the man is feverish and agrees that sleep is perhaps his best option, though he leaves the tea and the meal out for Daneel in case he changes his mind while Magnus is away.

Then Magnus makes his way back to the White Heart.  Though he is nearly certain the mob has disbanded by now, he makes his way warily along the streets, keeping to the side roads while he can to be sure he does not attract any more attention than is needed.

"Feel free."  William Howell growls as Magnus asks to search the room.  "Murderer he was... was staying here all along.  Hope he burns, killing all those innocent people."

The man flips Magnus the key to the room and Magnus makes his way, opening the door.

It seemed the girl had cleaned his room, though it's hard to imagine how badly astray it had really been, for there seems to be few possessions in the room to speak of.  The inn furniture includes a wood pallet bed, a small bedside table, and an oil lamp hung on the wall.  The blankets of the bed are made up, and the only thing of note is a small sack on the table which Magnus makes quick work going through.  It contains only a few articles of dirty clothing, a tin cup and small knife, a waterskin, a flint and a small bit of thin line...

OOC:  Sorry for the stagnation on my part.  Despite being home without the fam, I've managed to find entirely too many things to take up my time.  I'm headed out tomorrow, and may get a chance to post here and there, but I'm not really counting on it.  Worst case should be two weeks though where I'm down without posting.

Magnus pawed through the scant belongings, his stature seeming to fill the little room where his foe had been staying for some time.

The findings were...disappointing. He had hoped to find things of an obviously magical nature, maybe even letters, a diary, something that he could link to what Daneel was suffering from. But he had been naive of course. He did not keep a diary himself, why would his enemy?

The Minotaur let out a soft sigh as he set the belongings aside.

He had two courses of action that came to mind.

The first was to seek out protection, or a cure, from some third party. Even if Nicolai was captured an executed there was no guarantee that the curse would die with him. But who could he find in the city that he could trust? The risk of running into some kind of swindler was high.

The second was to look into Nicolai's fate himself. If he had been executed, he may have had something on his body that would explain Daneel's condition. But with his problem solved, why would the Magistrate deal with him at all now? In fact there was a chance that the Magistrate might fret about tying up loose ends, and that would be a whole other kettle of fish...

All this trouble for a helmet...but a decent man now lay sick as a dog an unable to work his trade, and while Magnus was not responsible for that, he had come so far.

Then, on second thought, Magnus held up the line to the light. There were a few fairy tales about knots and string. Perhaps some of them rang true? There was also the maid to consider. Maybe she had wandered off with a few of the mans possessions that he could offer to buy?

Evidence.

It seemed this small bit of a hotel room was devoid of it.  All that was there were the few meager possessions of a wanderer.

It would have been so much more convenient if the man kept a diary with the gruesome details of all his magical misdeeds, it would have been easier to simply put the man to death and have this all over with.

Of course, the Magistrate may not need evidence at all.  He already knew the man was guilty and Mother Alice had said he could be quite vindictive.  But...  If the Magistrate already knew the man was guilty, why in the world would he ask Magnus to murder him in cold blood rather than simply arrest him in the first place?

Magnus grates his teeth against the thought, and holds up the line to the cloud-darkened light which comes in through the room window.  He had seen Judoc recognize magic items, or items that had been used for magic through a simple touch.  It was how they had recognized the ancient mace found in the belly of the dead mega lizard outside Perdition.  How he had done it though, was something that escaped Magnus entirely.

He turns the line again and for a moment the whole thin piece seems to disappear into a halo cast by the incoming light.  For the briefest of moments, Magnus thinks he has an answer until he realizes it was a simple trick of the shadows.  Frustrated, Magnus puts the line down, realizing even if the thing was magical, he'd likely never know unless he stumbled on some magical code or spell...  An even unlikelier scenario given how resistant his kind was to using magic...

OOC:  Ok, we're back at it.  You find nothing abnormal with the piece of line despite the momentary trick of the light which you recognize after the fact and can repeat by holding it up to the window and focusing your eyes the right way.

Feel free to further your search into either of the avenues you suggested.  The module's a little different than the setting we have here, but you can seek out a religious or a magical solution to the curse, and you would expect that Nicolai is being held in the same cells you have already visited a few times.

"Well damn..."

Magnus said to himself as he pocketed the items. Not quite a dead end, but not the solution he had hoped for.

His main priority was making sure Daneel pulled through. Not only did he seem like a really decent human being that deserved some relief, but he was also the whole reason Magnus had made this long trip in the first place.

Conventional medicine was not the solution here, of that he was confident. As such he was either left with Father Litle, or potentially Alice. Father Litle was a priest, and Magnus felt he had built up some good will...if not with Father Litle himself then potentially with the Lord after having brought low two demons in his life.

But Alice was a self professed healer first and foremost, any suspicions Magnus held about her other activities would probably just be a bonus. And she seemed discreet.

So it was that Magnus hatched the plan to load Daneel into a wagon, if one could be found for the afternoon, to make him comfortable and to seek out Alice for treatment before he did anything else.

With Nicolai's room proving less than forthcoming, Magnus shifts tack, pocketing the few meager items and heading out of the White Heart to find a cart or a wagon to load up Daneel and bring him to Alice.  He wasn't sure what her herbs would be capable of... but at the very least, she would know more than Magnus about his condition, and potentially she had something to heal him entirely.

Without too much trouble, Magnus rents a cart that will be suitable for the task and lines the bed with a small bale of straw to absorb the shock of the cobbles.  Magnus returns to Angel Armory and finds Daneel in a fitful sleep with his meal still uneaten.

Magnus briefly tries to wake the man, though he quickly gives up on the task, instead he lifts the man out the door and into the cart.  Daneel is still hot to the touch, and his hair is slick with sweat.

Magnus presses on to Alice's, hitching his own mule to the cart.  Though Magnus worries about the bumps of the road, the trip is short and Daneel does not wake.

"You just keep showing..."  Alice pauses, and her tone shifts suddenly as she sees Magnus heft Daneel out of the cart.  "Bring him in."

Alice immediately opens the door wide, shuffling towards her shelf and pulling a few of the bottles of herbs.

"On the table there."  She points towards the dining table that seems just large enough for a man of Daneel's size.

As Magnus sets the man down, Alice grabs a blanket from among her stores.

"What happened to him?"  Alice asks as opens one of the jars.

"He's cursed, as far as I know" Magnus told the old woman urgently as he laid Daneel down, his own hands coming away glistening with Daneel's sweat. "That's what he told me anyway." he added as he wiped his hand on his pants, leaving dark smears on the fabric.

"There was a man out to get 'em, mean lookin' sort. Mage by the name of Nicolai. We had words in the street, and sure enough, the man sicked a demon on me. Right in broad daylight." Magnus shook his head as he walked around to help Alice. "Came out of thin air, and cut me up pretty good before I was able to put him down. I'm pretty sure the crowd mobbed Nicolai while I was runnin' away...it was two against one after all, and now it sounds like Nicolai's locked up for witchcraft." he explained as he took a rag and wiped off Daneel's brow to keep the sweat from his eyes.

As Magnus mentions the curse, Alice looks up from her jars, her eyes narrowed at Magnus, making the contrast between the one good one and the other with the black part of the pupil spreading out over the rest of her iris quite stark.  The stern look breaks within a moment however, as Alice sighs heavily and opens one of the jars.

"I told you...  I'm a midwife, not a witch."  She says, a bit defeated, though never the less she begins her ministrations.

She takes a heavy scoop of poultice out of the jar with a three-fingered swipe, and rubs the thick, green paste on his neck and collarbone as she tears away the shirt with a few strained motions and lifts his arms away from his chest.

"His fever's too high."  Alice says in way of an explanation as she collects a thick rag from a shelf and dunks it in a bucket of water.  "His body trying to purge something... and it's eating itself up from the inside in the meantime."

Alice takes the damp cloth and lays it across Daneel's forehead.  Magnus notices that the man has now begun to shiver.

Alice unstoppers a small vial, lifting Daneel's chin high as she pours the small portion of liquid in his mouth.  "There we go."

"I heard they caught the murderer...  If he were a witch and responsible for this," she gestures at Daneel, "then the only way to make him whole again is to break the curse...  Some can throw them off on their own, but he doesn't seem to be making too good a job of it.  Only two other ways.  Get your witch to lay off it or get someone stronger to break the magic...  If there even is anyone.  I'll do what I can with him, but I don't know that I can guarantee much more than giving him a bit more time."

Magnus listened, and his mental list of potential solutions narrowed rapidly. He was fresh out of Mages.

"I know, I know, you have my thanks...and that's why I came to you. Cause he's sick, and you're one of the only people I know in this town. I know he's good for it, and if he's not...well, I'll make sure you get paid before I leave town."

There was nothing for it but to either have Nicolai call off the curse, or to put him down for good. If he was due for execution anyway, it would need to be hurried up. And if he wasn't, well, Lord Alston risked much by keeping him alive.

But Magnus was under no illusion that he knew even most of what was really going on.

"Guess I'll need to track down the source then." Magnus moved to leave. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can."

Back out into the streets. Back out, not so much for justice... although Margerie almost certainly deserved some.

Back out to save Daneel, and to salvage what he could from the whole mess of a situation. He was tired, and his stab wound hurt, and the adrenaline had made him shaky in the legs. But the day was not over, not by a long shot.

And a man's life hung in the balance.

Magnus does not tarry long at Alice's with the knowledge that Nicolai's curse seems to have accelerated significantly in a singe day.  It all seemed to circle back towards Nicolai.  Despite this, Magnus knew there were other options.  He was not quite ready to go back to the prisons and to the guards who had certainly heard the story of the mob, that a minotaur had been involved in the morning, to whatever fate awaited him there.  Instead he makes his way towards the Magistrate's manor, looking for answers, or solutions... or frankly anything to spare Daneel's life for another day.

Magnus takes the back alleys, still nervous to spend too much time in the open if he can avoid it, though luckily he does not run in to additional trouble on his way to the manor.

There is trouble enough without finding it unawares...

Magnus is bidden to wait for a moment in the foyer by the butler while the man informs the master of the house.  It is not long, however, before he is shown back to the library again where the Magistrate sits crumpled upon an upholstered armchair, his face flushed and his movements lethargic.

"It's you."  The magistrate arcs the corners of his mouth in an attempt at a smile, though the expression only reminds Magnus of a man in pain.

"You failed I take it..."  Sir Alston says in a slow moan.  "It's no matter.  We all reap what we sew.  Fate comes for us all and I was a fool to think I could shake loose of its clutches."

It struck Magnus as he stood there, that despite his wealth, despite the mans power and office, that he was not necessarily "in the loop". The this mans problems with Daneel and Nicolai were still very private, and that he would probably not have been notified after every significant arrest. In some ways Sir Alston was just as lost as Magnus had been, or still was, in many ways.

"Well, yes and no..." Magnus easily matched the mans weary tone. It had been a very long couple of days. He approached the arm chair as he went on.

"We had words, briefly, in the street...and then out of nowhere he draws steel and sicks a demon on me. In broad daylight, in front of a small crowd." Magnus explained. "I drew off the demon, and killed it...as far as anything like that can be killed I guess." It was a less embarrassing way of saying that he had in fact ran away for his life, but that was besides the point.

"But while that was goin' on, word is Nicolai got mobbed and arrested...not sure on which charge, witchcraft or the murders, but rumor is he's behind bars. All he needs is a trial and a sentence, or however you folks handle that sort of thing.,," he paused for a long breath. "But...if it could happen quick, and I mean whatever strings you can pull...I'm concerned he's gonna turn his craft on one of us, talk to the wrong person, or just plain escape." he gave the Magistrate a knowing look. "I've worked with Mages before, an they're damned clever."

Magnus strategically left out just how critical Daneel's condition was. He knew Sir Alston hated the man, for whatever reason, and he did not want to give any more reason for the man to delay in hopes that his plot should finally succeed.

"Yes."  The Magistrate answers as Magnus suggests the rumors that Nicolai had been arrested.  He does not seem surprised, nor cheered by the information, but rather keeps his morose tone and does not even return Magnus's look.

"Yes, they are currently holding him in the prisons.  He is quite the worse for wear I hear.  The mob,  when he conjured that beast, they set upon him with vigor...  But he is alive."  Alston sighs, shaking his head.

"And that is my plight.  He is captured and shall receive the full weight of the law, but also its protections.  He will have his day in court, and certainly he will use it to expose me if I let things take their natural course.  He has already suggested as much to the guards.  And thus I have a choice:  either I stand firm in my beliefs and my profession - he goes to the gallows and I will be ruined by scandal, or I cave to his blackmail...  I arrange his release and that scoundrel goes unpunished."

Alston spits the word, his self pity briefly overtaken by disgust.

Magnus considered the problem for a few moments before he spoke. "Who's in charge of enforcing magical law?" He asked the troubled Magistrate. "I mean, if we can convince them that Nicolai's still a threat, even while he's locked up. That his curses are still hurting people. They would need to take action right away? Right? They couldn't just wait for trial because he's not a normal prisoner."

The Minotaur had no idea how any of that worked, but assumed that maybe the church had some sort of expert, if not the Imperial Court. But where did they live? And could they travel here quickly enough?

"I'm no Sheriff, but it would seem to me that keeping him from doing any more harm would be a pretty high priority right? It's basically an emergency."

Sir Alston Shakes his head.  "Magical Law is the same as mundane law...  Certainly there are exceptions... secrets ministries... agents clouded in magic and obscurity to face down threats to the empire... though I severely doubt Nicolai would qualify."

He looks at Magnus, then lays his head back on his chair's upholstery as he gazes towards the ceiling.

"Besides, Nicolai the only people Nicolai is close enough to hurt now are the guards.   They are under orders to protect themselves and their fellows if needed, though I doubt Nicolai is so stupid that he will hasten his own demise by attacking his keepers.  No...  His prize will be waiting...  waiting until his court date when he will tear my reputation asunder, he will tell of how I hired him...  how I was guiding his hand.  He will spin lies indecipherably with truth and I will be ruined by scandal...  Perhaps I will spend my own time decorating my prisons..."

Alston swallows heavily.

"I cannot stop him.  I cannot kill him myself, and I refuse to order my men to do it.  They do not deserve such a stain upon them, especially when they cannot possibly understand the threats he poses to society... and to me..."

Magnus sighed in turn. If only he had been able to come upon Nicolai unawares...but no, he had tried and that was over and done with. They were left with the consequences.

All I wanted was a helmet... he thought to himself. All of this, just for the privilege of being able to spent his hard earned coin on a little extra protection for his next job.

Magnus was running out of options. Thus far he had not mentioned Daneel, he had wanted to avoid getting tangled up in whatever had happened between these two men. He had wanted to avoid getting even more entangled than he already was. But what good would that do his if Daneel died and Magnus was left with nothing? A decent seeming man dead, Lord Alston ruined, and Magnus empty handed.

"Daneel is dying" Magnus suddenly said seriously. "I don't know him well, I just...I wanted him to make me some armor. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get somebody to make good armor for, well, somebody like me. That's the whole reason I came here, to Raphael." he admitted. "I heard he did good work" Magnus shrugged.

"I know somethin' happened between the three of you, and I believe you when you say that you didn't mean for it to get out of hand. But as of right now, after all the death and misery that has come out of this mess. Nicolai's guards aren't the only one in danger. Whatever curse he worked...it's still after him, and I'm not sure how much longer he can hold out." Magnus explained in his rough rural vernacular.

"So if you're tellin' me that there's nothin' official you can do...that Nicolai can sit in his cell, work his witchcraft and kill another man without any consequences. I don't know what to make of that." Magnus threw up his hands a few inches in a somewhat helpless gesture. "It would seem to me that there has to be somebody, somewhere in this city that can sign a paper or whatever, so I can go down there and put a stop to all this. Maybe at least go through his things, see if there is anything in there, somethin' magic that's keepin' this goin'." he felt himself grasping at any remote possibilities they might have left.

"He's dying..."  Alston repeats the words in an emotionless voice, sucked dry of sadness or surprise much like his motionless form still hanging from the upholstery of his chair.

The magistrate stays quiet for some time, though Magnus matches his silence and the tenseness of the moment draws out like a blade.

"I loved her."  The magistrate says finally, the weight of the words seeming to nearly crush the man.  "Margerie...  She was my joy.  When she...  When she...  At first I could not believe it.  I relieved our last moments together over and over.  I was so happy.  A child.  My child.  An heir.  Hadn't she been happy too?"

"But the truth came to me, unwanted as it was.  No.  She had not been."

"I asked myself why.  What had driven her to take her life?  For it was quickly becoming clear that was what had happened.  We had argued.  She had wanted to be wed.  She did not understand that being my wife would blow back scandal upon her as badly as it would on me...  She wanted to tell everyone I was the father of the baby...  Daneel was asking her...  Daneel would not let it drop...  I latched upon those words...  It allowed me to blame someone else."

Alston stops again, letting hit guilt slowly overwhelm the room.

"When Nicolai came, I had nothing but my anger left."  Alston lifts his head towards Magnus, the first movement he has made for some time.  "I won't pretend that this is all my fault, but he has used me as an excuse and he has hid within my shadow to accomplish his deeds.  I will stand for it no longer.  If he is still using his magics to kill..."  Alston grips the hand rests of the chair, pushing himself up roughly to a stand, "Then justice must be served as expediently as possible."

"Come."  He urges Magnus as he walks from the library, pausing only a moment to call to his servant, "Fetch the carriage."

OOC:  Rather than ask for a diplomacy roll this far after your post, I went ahead and rolled for you.  Needless to say, it went quite well.  I stopped here for any response on your part before we keep going, though no action is required if you just want to keep moving with the story.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:34, Wed 08 Sept 2021.

The revelation came like a wave of nausea.

A young girl falls into the arms of a wealthy and powerful man. Dreams of escaping drudgery, dreams of living in his fine house, or attending parties on his arm.

A man takes a lover, knowing he could not marry her, enjoying her company all the same. Perhaps he even really cared for her, or was it only now, after she was safely dead that he could speak the words aloud.

And a third party, not even really involved, just a man concerned for his apprentice, probably out of some paternal instinct or hidden affection. Wanting to make sure that she was alright, wanting her to make good choices.

Even if Margerie had been young and foolish, and even if Lord Alston had let his desires get the better of him, and even if Daneel had harbored any sort of feeling for Margerie himself. None of it really mattered, it was all so minor at the heart of it, and now, she was dead, Daneel was dying, and Lord Alston on the verge of ruin.

The devil really did know his craft.

It could all have fallen out a hundred different ways, but in this case, it was a bloody mess.

The misery of it all still hung over Magnus like a cloud as he followed Lord Alston, feeling the mans energy now, his desperate intentions. What could he do that he had not already done? They were about to find out, for better or ill.

Magnus had never really seen the inside of a carriage. He never would have dreamt that a prominent man would have dared to be seen with him in a carriage. But as the coach with its footman pulled up, the fine looking horses in their traces, the Minotaur allowed himself to bask for just a moment in the luxury. Not for itself, no, but just a warm little glow that allowed him to feel normal.

For a blissful little moment, he was not worried about a roving patrol of guards, or a pack of drunks staggering home. He was not conscious of the stares or the sound of his hooves on the cobblestones or the biting fleas. He drew a contented sigh, feeling that perhaps his time in Raphael was beginning to draw to a close. Hoping, hoping in a deep and real way that they could some how figure it all out, and that he would not have to see poor Daneel wasted and dead in Alices bed after so much effort, risk and injury.

Magnus walks along with Alston so far as the front of the manor, down the stairs and towards the loop where the two wait only for a moment while the carriage is called up.

Magnus is hesitant at first, for while he revels in the idea of riding in the carriage, it is hard to shake the feeling that the situation is wrong... that it is a trick or a bad joke.  That at any moment the Magistrate will clarify that the two of them will meet at the prisons whenever Magnus gets there.  But as the servants hold the door open and Alston steps towards the carriage, he makes the point entirely clear with a single word, "Come."

The ride to the prisons is mercifully short.  The conversation is non-existent, for Alston simply sits in his seat, his sadness hanging over him like a miasma as he starer out of the glass without so much as a glance towards the minotaur as they travel.  In Magnus's mind it is just as well, for while the carriage may have been built with even the largest of men in mind, it had not accounted for a large man with two-foot horns sticking out of his head.  Magnus finds after an initial moment of panic, that he can actually sit in the seat without slashing the wood of the roof, so long as he slouches his ass forward almost to the edge and tips his head forward and to the side nearly as far as it will go.  In truth, it is quite a blessing that Magnus can ignore any interaction, for he cannot imagine attempting a serious conversation with his body contorted as it is, like a rag doll thrown into a corner.

Before he knows it though, the two are back out of the carriage, and Magnus finds himself back at the prisons, this time with the Magistrate leading a few steps ahead of him.

"Alfard."  Alston says as he approaches the guard's desk.  "Our friend here has proof that the prisoner is still using his magic for ill... that another man's life is in the balance.  We are going in to question him.  There is no time."

The guard at the desk, Alfard, seems quite taken aback by the visit and nearly jumps to his feet as the Magistrate and Magnus approach.  However, he does not argue, instead gesturing towards the cells with an open palm as he grabs the keys and makes to walk ahead towards the cell.  "Yes, sir."

"We'll take them Alfard..."  Sir Richard stops the man, reaching instead for the keys on his own.  "I need you to stay back, make sure that he cannot escape if he bends his magicks against us."

"Yes sir."  Alfard responds dumbly as Alston beckons Magnus onward.

Ahead, in the cool darkness of the prisons, Magnus can make out a single form sitting haggard on the ground, his knees up and his face, back, and arms rolled forward against his legs.  A pale, bald head reflects what little afternoon light comes in through the small, high window.

"You'd better go first."  Alston says simply, pausing for a moment in his step to allow Magnus to pass.

Magnus felt his fatigue begin to burn away as they neared the prison, replaced with a sort of nervous energy, and the familiar feeling of more direct action.

For the first time in his life really, he was sitting across from the man in charge. Where as Magnus had feared being caught up by city guards on several occasions in his life, not he strode next to a man that they reported to. It was an odd feeling, and he found that he liked the security of it. Power was insidious, but Magnus had never really held any, so his first taste hit him fairly hard, even if he remained fairly self aware.

Magnus was fairly sure that he knew how this was going to work out. Nicolai felt he had a trump card, something that would hold the Magistrate at bay, perhaps even some secrets the man had yet to divulge. They needed to stay focused and to push, for all their sakes, but especially for Daneel.

Mages were mortal, he had eaten meals with them, slept beside them, joked with them and argued with them. They were powerful, no doubt, but they bled like any other man. Some might forget that fact after spending enough time flying through the air like a little God or striking down their enemies with a thought and gesture, but that did not change the reality of things.

Magnus caught sight of the silhouette, entered at Lord Alston's behest and then approached the prisoner slowly, his hooves grinding a little on the worn flagstones of the prison floor. His expression, although inhuman, was deadly serious.

Magnus's hooves hit the stonework floor with a sharp clack as he walks which rings with an echo upon the unfurnished cells.

Slowly, as Magnus approaches, Nicolai's head lifts.

Magnus had suspected the mob had handled the man roughly based only on the angry shouting, but seeing the after effects made the point clear.  Nicolai's face was savaged, broken open wide at the cheekbone with thick red ooze spilling down to his mouth and chin.  His eye was swollen shut and purpled, his lip engorged and split, and he was holding his arm close to his chest as if trying to keep it from moving.

Nicolai does not make an attempt to stand up.

"So."  He says, exposing bloodied teeth with a sickening smile.  "The men of the hour...  To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The smile did not help Magnus's mood.

"You're gonna turn Daneel loose." Magnus told the beaten man in a flat, joyless baritone. It was not an angry voice, just a weary one, and as he said as much he reached in and pulled out the mace, the little metal cylindrical head with it's ancient designs, two feet of bludgeon with that mysteries cap on the end to give it some real heft. "Cause if you don't, I'm gonna cave your face in." the grip on the weapon tightened as he let the bag hang limp against his side, the mace now help low and deceptively casual.

"And if he dies in the time it takes me to go over there and check on 'im, I'm gonna do it anyway, before you do it again to me or anybody else." there was a brief pause, and his voice was a touch louder when he spoke again.

"So don't you waste my fuckin' time, or try to haggle...don't even smile, unless you want to make the guards track down all your teeth before they drag the next poor bastard in here." another pause. "Just do it, turn him loose, and tell me it's done so I can get on with my day." he locked eyes with the mage, and waited, his whole body tense.

"Turn him loose..."  Nicolai returns the words back at Magnus contemplatively, as if he is trying them on to see if they fit.

"An odd way to say it yes?  For he is outside, quite free...  while I on the other hand..."

Nicolai tilts his chin up, his sickening face deflected for the moment towards the ceiling as he narrows his eyes, not even looking at Magnus.

"And to threaten me with a quick death!  Do you even know the punishments which await me?  It seems everyone's favorite pass time is to remind me how long it takes to die by fire... suffocation they say!  The body snuffed out as a candle while the flames gorge themselves on the body's breath and flesh.  Quite shocking.  Perhaps if I am lucky, or..."  He nods towards Sir Alston, "If the good sir is feeling generous, I shall have the good fortune to only be hanged."

Alston walks up behind Magnus, his hands gripping on the key ring as he moves to open the cell door.

"Of course...  We must remember, that I only acted on the good sir's orders in the first place...  So I suppose if he were truly feeling generous he would join me on the gallows for sharing my crime."

Nicolai cracks a short, single laugh which dies immediately, ending in a grimace as he squints his eyes and tightens his arms around his chest.  Alston's lights up in rage with the comment, his hands shaking as he attempts to turn the key in the lock, before he realizes he has the wrong one and removes it, searching for the next one on the ring.

"No?"  Nicolai asks, glancing towards Alston, though he still has not moved so much as a limb.  "No, I suppose generous would be too much to ask.  Well, how about this then?  A life for a life.  A fair trade.  You turn me loose, and I'll do the same for your friend.  I walk... he walks."

"You admit it?"  Alston is nearly shaking in rage now, for a moment he completely forgets the keys in the lock as he stares at the sitting man.  "You admit you are still seeding pain and death with your magic?  You cannot live Nicolai!  I will not allow you to spread your evil another day!"

Gripping the keys in the lock again, Alston throws the key over, turning the tumblers and the door hangs loose on the hinges.  Alston however, seems to hesitate rather than walking in the cell.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:05, Thu 09 Sept 2021.

Magnus had warned him, that much was indisputable.

Did Magnus know if the Mage was bluffing? Of course not, his experience with Mages, although far more than the average person, was quite limited. He knew it took Finn a few moments to really get going in a fight, and that was when he could see his enemy face to face.

Did he know if Lord Alston was manipulating him like some kind of pawn? No, Magnus was the stranger here, he held little local knowledge and even less power, but he did have a mace.

Was it personal? No, not really, despite the man having drawn steel on him, and having sicked his demon on him, Magnus did not know the man to bear any real or lasting grudge.

What Magnus did know, down in his gut, is that this guy was a real bastard. Few, if any, would miss him and he had caused Magnus, and Margerie, and Daneel a whole heap of trouble. So despite the involvement of a local lord and Magistrate, despite this mans magical talent or whatever pacts he had made, Magnus felt he was in position, right there, right then, to make a difference,

It happened in the span of a second. One step, two, and the mace came down squarely towards the kneeling mans grinning face from above.

Magnus had been known to get carried away in a fight, known to blur the line between right and wrong when the blood rage had gotten into his head.  Though Magnus's mind now is no less tortured than it would be in one of his fits, he controls his body with a grim finality.  His decision is clear and righteous.  Nicolai must die.  Now.

The murderer's face tilts back towards the ceiling, his pained grin unwavering, his body not so much as flinching in the face of death.  Magnus steps swiftly through the doorway and the mace is swung with a calculating accuracy and all the strength of the minotaur's barrel-chested frame.  The mace does not even slow as it connects just high and behind the man's temple, but crushes the man's skull with ease before the head rebounds downward along with the body, bouncing once like a cork off the rough-hewn stone.

In a matter of a moment, Nicolai has gone from living to unmistakably dead.  His body lies broken, his head now a bowl overflowing with bright crimson and laying in a puddled mess of blood and teeth.

And yet... despite the fact that Magnus knows that everything has been unmistakably right... something, something inside him feels entirely wrong.  Almost as if a bit of Nicolai's blackness had fled his body in death and latched on to the closest thing still standing...

Vaguely, Magnus can hear Sir Alston talking...  Alfard is there...  Something about the law, about Magnus saving more victims...  None of it mattered.  All that was left, was to ensure that Daneel had indeed pulled through...

---

"This is bullshit!"

It is over a month later when Magnus stands upon the road from Raphael with Gus, his mule, and Arnold Bozan, the one handed thief he had saved from the gallows.  The man who had told him his suspicions of the Magistrate... the one single bit of information which had opened the door wide on Magnus's investigation.  Magnus had much to thank Arnold for, for saving Daneel's life, for the pristine, gleaming pot helm which now adorned his head.  And yet, despite this genuine gratitude, Magnus did not feel as if he owed Arnold anything.

On this one particular point, Arnold strenuously disagreed.  He had quite clearly stated, many times now over as they had exited the city, that Magnus owed him his freedom.

"I help you, and all you see fit to do is drive me to my doom, fighting invaders on the border?  Let me go, I'm no help to the legions anyway, I've only got one hand!"

Despite the man's insistences, Magnus had held resilient while picking Arnold up from the brig, had overseen as the leg shackles were installed (on Colonel Bright's insistence, as Arnold had made two bold but flawed attempts at escape) and had pushed him from the city walls without so much as a second thought.

It had taken effort though, as everything seemed to these days.  Ever since Nicolai, Magnus seemed just a little bit clumsier, he tired faster, his intellect was just a little less sharp.  It was hard to complain, especially when he spent as much time as he did around Daneel who had been on death's doorstep and was just so thankful to have completely healed within a matter of days.  Magnus was genuinely happy for him, and he could not bear to let on that some small portion of Nicolai's dark magic may yet live on.

In the end it mattered little.  Alice had said that some could throw off a curse naturally, and Magus's kind had a natural resistance to magic.  He just needed more time.  Until then, he still had a job to do, and a thief to send to Major Brashear... at least if he could stand him for that long.

OOC:  Congratulations on a successful thread!  Please feel free to make a last post for the thread before things are closed up.  Rewards and character points will follow in private.