The Eye of Anubis: Book Four

[yalenusveler]

OOC: what Andre and Otto got up to

Andre walked alongside the Lamordian as they headed towards the Park of 11 Fountains, quiet for a moment, then speaking up finally in Otto's home toungue "You...can converse with plant life to an extent?" His speech halfway between a statement of fact and an inquiry.

Otto quirks his eyebrows up appreciatively, grinning slightly. "Nice accent. Anyway, yeah--I went over it with Tomas a while back, I think, though I'm still not really sure how it works... Not really "converse," per se; sort of like "trade information with" was the gunsmith's reply, followed quickly by "Like I'm getting...ideas from the plant, or whatever, and that process seems a little like conversation."

"Why d'you ask?"

Andre replied, continuing in Otto's home tounge "I figure, we find plant life at the scene of the crime, you strike up a chat. Yes, we might not get data we can ea.." camesily interpret...but we're two intelligent individuals...we should be able to puzzle it out."

"Nevermind, if we ARE facing a genuine fiend...its supernatural wrongness SHOULD perturb the vegetation in some way." He offered. The comment about his accent had actually earned a smile.

Otto exhales heavily. "You're right about the 'hard to interpret' bit--try talking philosophy with a holly bush sometime."

's funny...the Lamordian and the Agnostic hunting a potential demon. Somewhere, somone is laughing." Andre shrugged "I just wish it was so entertaining on our end."

"Hey--" Otto points to himself. "Deist. Birds of a feather, and all that." He chuckles. "Know what you're saying, though. Never thought I'd be a part of something so"--waves his hand around airily--"...dramatic. Funny? Yeah."

"Makes sense. And i'd go for an old Oak myself...get a nice longterm perspective. And yeah...it honestly seems like with this much drama BEFORE the tomb...the tomb itself should be either terrifyingly easy to navigate..." Was Andre's response, his pause followed by "Or a deathtrap of otherworldly proportion." He fidgeted a bit, as they walked "I'm not sure which would frighten me more. Either way, do you agree that perhaps questioning the foliage is a sound idea?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Definitely. Can't hurt to see what we can interpret.You're the theologist, though--you get to answer all the...religion-ey questions." Followed quickly by "Division of labor. It works!" From Otto, and then after a pause "Least you know what a demon should be, whether they exist or not..."

That's the issue. There's too much evidence that THEY exist...and far too little that their benevolent counterparts do." He sighed "Diamabel is the only evidence i've seen...and he's...unique." was Andre's pensive reply, with a quick "We see nature spirits like the thing that...empowered you. But a cosmological tangible manifestation of absolute good? A hen will grow teeth, and a rooster lay eggs of gold before most would see one."

"...Yeah." Otto looks a bit pensive. "Unique is the word for him. Is it bad that I want to get a team of arcane scientists into that audience hall and give him a physical? You look at someone like that...so many *questions.*"

"Honestly? In my opinon...a little bit. Though yes, I'd like to think myself somewhat a scientist in my approach...at the same time...I'd like for wonder and mystery to remain in the world. Though..." Andre paused a moment. "Seeing a team of arcane scholars being utterly stumped would be rather entertaining."

That brought a brief laugh. "I can think of some of my professors I'd like to see get put in that spot--present company excluded, of course. No reason wonder and understanding have to be mutually exclusive, though"
Came Otto's reply. "Knowing how things work really never detracted from me enjoying them, at least not so far."

"I've seen things get...scienced to death, i suppose. When some thing's all theory, there's infinite possibility. Fact narrows...confines. It's why I enjoy how I manifest my magical talent so much." Was Andre's reply, his voice actually sounding almost wistful.

"...Yeah, about that. Agnostic? Divine caster? I mean, I have the whole "over a barrel with the wolfman" thing as an excuse--how does it work for you?"

"I accept no structure as supreme truth, but accept the possibility for truth. If anything, my magic has more in common with Lia's than with Kuzan's...I study... In potentiality...the magical talents you manifest...if you could codify them in a form similar to a scroll, it's entirely possible that I could transcribe them into my prayerbook, and memorize them like any other spell." Andre said, before expounding a bit on a personal bit of pet theory.

"There's also of course, my pet theory that the deities which are offered worship by so many are in fact, just manifestations of directed faith. Get enough people believing in the great fire breathing miracle bell... And you'll have priests of the great fire breathing miracle bell casting spells. Of course, this is patently untestable, without dipping into RATHER shady ethical areas. And why the prophet fascinates me so..."

It was thankful that Otto cut him off, otherwise...he might've rambled on the merits of the Fire Breathing Miracle Bell for quite some time.

"Yeah, 'cause he's the *prophet* of a faith without being a *deity* of it...been having trouble understanding that whole concept myself."

"It's a cultural difference. If there's one thing i noticed about back home...we tend to like our divinity...distant. Diamabel...speaks for the almighty. It's irrefutable, and unopen to debate when he proclaims. At least, from a theological standpoint."

"But is the physical nature a gift from the divine...a manifestation of the directed faith of the populace...a little from each column, or a third option altogether?" Andre mused "Never mind, people say he's harsh...but quite frankly...I'd rather things here over say...the Lawgiver."

"Hah. I've heard...stories. Had incentive to read up on Hazlan, you know..." came Otto's reply to that...he had had his reasons, and unfortunately, not pleasant ones. "I'll take no god to that god any day. And here, you know, at least the divine power is up front, where everyone can see it. I mean, even if you can't place where it comes from, it's still pretty obviously *there...*"

"And not reserved for the upper class, who happen to be men. Yes, it's harsh...but it's egalitarian in its harshness. I mean, look at Dhimmi status. Yes, it can be humbling, and the taxes a pain..." came Andre's reply "But...it's not like the lawgiver, where the possibility of other faiths is verboten...instead, you just don't proselytize.And from what I've heard, the Lawgiver is worse in Nova Vassa."

Otto gives a low whistle. "Whew, daisy. Guess anything looks not-opressive if you compare it to something worse."

"Nova Vassa is usually the worse in about anything I've heard. Honestly, I'm amazed the Lawgiver faith hasn't been instituted in Falkovnia..." came Andre's rather dry reply.

There's one thing I've heard about Drakov, it's that he isn't so hot about political wild cards...any established church, period, is going to be one of those. Guy may be dumb as a brick about everything else, but he knows that." Came Otto's commentary on their segue into politics.

"He tried to invade Darkon...I hardly credit him with that much intellect...And I do believe we've arrived...shall we put on our investigation caps, as it were?" Andre smiles, gesturing towards the park.

Otto mimes a tip of an imaginary hat. "Let's get to it."

The Park of Eleven Fountains was named, obviously enough, for its eleven fountains. Each one topped by a statue of some sort. Well-pruned bushes and trees lined the paths, although this was still a far sparser park than either of them were used to. The murder scene was unmistakable. A patch of grass beneath the leaves of a small tree, the blood had stained the ground dark, and once, Andre thought he saw a piece of torn flesh laying where it had not yet been cleaned up.

Andre winced at the scene, still not cleaned up. Yes, it made their jobs a bit easier...but still, a rather distinct unpleasantness "At least we know where to start..." he offered dryly...

"Ooh..." Otto tsk-ed under his breath, then straightened up. "Yeah. Let's give the place a physical once-over first before breaking out the...techniques. Never hurts to know what to ask..."

For all that..... there wasn't much to be said about the scene. The blood had splattered everywhere, staining the grass red, but there were two oddities....For a one, the grass was in places a bit damp. And for a two, there were no tracks, leading to, or away, from the scene, and anything this bloody should have left bloody tracks all over.

"Hmm." Otto indicates the second oddity. "A flier, maybe? Incorporeal?"
"Both possible options. Or using some sort of magic to obscure their trail..though Incorporeal is a good guess..." Andre leaned in to peer at the damp patches a bit more, trying to suss out what was the cause.

"Looks like he was...dripping, whatever he was. And this is a couple days out from the event...what could've kept this damp this long? Unless someone makes a hobby out of watering crime-scene gardens..." Came Otto's most likely unintentionally darkly amusing reply.

"A damn good question, especially in Phiraz's climate...hmm. Let me check...." Andre began to gesture, his fingers doing the spell casting woogie dance. "Arperio Arcanum." leaving his lips as he began to concentrate on the damp patches followed quickly by a wince.
"Alright...that's...significantly distressing. It's Unholy Water.."

"Ooh..." Otto inhales through his teeth. "And recently poured. Looks like someone's trying to keep the site desecrated, then.."

"Oh? What makes you say that?" Andre continued to concentrate...the WHOLE scene, as opposed to just the water patch. The mention of desecration creating a rather uneasy sensation within him.

"...I'm making stuff up. You're the expert...I just thought maybe someone's using the murder site for some ritual purpose. What's your take?"

"....pretty much what you just said. I just thought perhaps that the grass told you someone was watering it....with evil.

"...Oh, no, I haven't asked. Can, though.Hold on a sec." Otto closes his eyes, and puts his mind...somewhere else.

<"When was this water poured on you, and what can you tell me about the being that poured it?>

"No active desecrate spell present...other than the water's presence...which is comforting, and worrying at the same time." Andre mused as Otto did his...thing.

<Three turnings of day. Heavy and fast, it passed us again, dripping and dropping the dead water. A movement, two movements, and then it passed us again.> The grass waved in the slight wind, and somehow... Otto understood this waving, understood it and read it.

Andre watched Otto, with more than a bit of fascination. On one hand, he had his own recent..magical "Gift"...but then again, Otto's came about due to far more interesting circumstances.

Otto translated briefly for Andre, then turns back <What can you tell me about the being who produced this blood and flesh which is upon you? What happened when this blood was let?>

"Do plants understand blood...or does it translate as sap to them?" Andre asked idly...still wondering why someone would do such a thing...and finding his mind heading in a nigh Devereuxian direction.

"I'm translating best I can...not everything matches up.Any questions you have, just let me know." Came Otto's reply to Andre's query about the language skills of foliage.

"That's the problem...plants can't hear...I've got a theory, but it's so crackpot...We know whatever IT was...it was tangible, at least enough for the grass to feel. I..hm...did the two people slain get a chance to run... But...how would we differentiate...." Andre pondered, half to Otto, half to himself.

<Heavy and strong, air moved, and we wilted. There was light, but it gave no sustenance, but was like the moon's.> Otto Translated again. "...It does have *weight,* apparently ...whatever it was that did this..."

Andre winced "That....hm." Andre looks about, trying to see if there are any blighted patches, similar to what Stefan produced back in Barovia. His fingers went to the amulet he wore, to steady himself mentally. Thankfully, he found no such blight.

<The two beings that fell on you...did they move, before they fell, and in what way did they move? How did the source of the light move?> Otto asked, followed by the plants reply of <They moved, up and down, and then apart, and then together. Then the light came, and there was rustling of blades of grass, and then they fell and didn't move.> Which was soon translated for Andre, who lacked the ability to speak grass.

"Up and down...?" Andre's mind tried to interpret "A moment of intimacy interrupted, perhaps? doubtful...but one never knows. " Otto soon replied to that postulation with Yeah. Interesting thing, though...you could interpret the answers two ways. Hold on--I'm going to resolve one thing."
<Was the one who cast the water the same as the one who shed the light, to the best of your knowledge?>

<So we think. He dripped, and was wet, like others sometimes do, but this was dead water, it didn't grow.> came the plant's reply, translated again, Otto's brow furrowed. "Now *there's* something interesting..."

"Oh?..what do you get from that particular bit on the grass' part?" Andre asked, genuinely curious. "Well, we know that this isn't a doer-and-accomplice deal, at least more than we did before."came Otto's response, and a query to the plants <At the time when the two fell--*when* did the one who dripped the water drip it, in relation to when the two fell?>

"Right. And ask if they felt the one dripping water move away..." Andre actually began to check for more damp patches, moving away from the crime scene, and finding none, Otto adding his question to his own.

The grass paused.... not quite sure how to answer this more complex question. <Before drip, and during drip, and after drip, and then pass through>

"Mm...he dripped it *involuntarily,* then? You know of any creature that'd do something like that?" Otto inquired of Andre, followed up unfortunately with "I'm not sure..I'm still tempted to think it's a purely mortal ritual killing. But...the shedding of the light...and the possibility of involuntarily dripping unholy water...." by the young professor.

"Our perp has definitely got *something* interesting going on with his physiology. Research that lead maybe, if we have time. Check it up in the library, or something... Anyway, got anything else we want to ask the grass? I'm tapped." Otto said, looking over to Andre.

"Definately....or there's always the possibility of an Angrya Maiynu cult...Diamabel is a manifestation of the pure light...via ritualistic murders, trying to invoke or become a manifestation of his opposite...and I am too. I could think of more, but not in any way I could meaningfully ask the grass."

And with no more questions for, as far as they knew, the only witnesses to the attack, Andre and Otto left to rejoin the others.
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Dementlieuse Embassy, The Foreign Quarter, Phiraz
May 23rd, 761, 6:22 PM; Day 67 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"It's at least partially tangible..." was Andre's first statement to the rest of the group, upon his and Otto's return. "And whatever it is...It's dripping Unholy water...and...Did I hear something about a Defacer?"

Fear played for a moment across Andre's eyes "I've...run into mention of them a few times. They match everything we've seen so far...except for apparently it drips unholy water. But...the faces, and the soul stealing...match. And...it's only SLIGHTLY less unsettling than a demon."

[The Whistler]

"...Do not forget that it is lighting up, as well." Otto went on to give a brief summary of the day's investigations and the results thereof, accompanied by some unconsciously expansive hand gestures. Thinking all the while:

And now it's a face-stealing, soul-eating, phosphorescent demonic undead weretiger carrying a leaky unholy-water bucket...forget "serial killer," someone seems to have left an *urban legend* in this philosophy lesson. Got to resolve all those details somehow...

[lostboy]

OOC: Khalils wonderful adventure in the slums.

Even for Khalil, the Lower Quarter was a sinister, twisting maze of streets and alleyways and tenements, at times rising so as to block out the sun and plunge the street into perpetual shadow. The people here were poor, and even more than that, the Dragoman felt they were *frightened*. Terror was the dominant emotion here, and it seemed like Angra Mainyu was on every pair of lips.

The Nest of Many Serpents was about what Khalil expected from it, a cheap, sleazy dive of criminals and assorted scum, a basket of serpents serving as its sign. The murder scene was easy to see, a number of patches of blood in a nearby alleyway, and a few indentations in the walls of the buildings.

Khalil pulled his face scarf tighter as he traversed the maze of lightless alleys. There was a real sense of foreboding abroad this night; still that’s what you get for visiting the scene of a demon perpetrated murder in the lowest part of town. He thinks as he approaches the tavern. The blood was indeed simple to spot but Khalil pauses a little way off, standing in the shadow of a nearby alleyway he surveys the building and watches for signs of movement in the street.

Satisfied he may view the site undisturbed; he steps out into the light. Then suddenly very conscious of the bright green armband highlighting his presence he moves quickly across the open thoroughfare towards the murder scene, his senses alert for any sign of something out of place.

There was, unfortunately, not very much new to learn. The blood was splattered everywhere, and dark, red patches of dried blood marred the stonework. Beyond that, it seemed as though the assailant was enormously strong, for bits of stone-work had been chipped off the walls. And most peculiarly.... the blood did not lead away from the scene.

Truly this had been a violent attack but there was little evidence of the sloppy, impulsiveness he expected to find at the first scene. Khalil squats next to the blood, somewhat mystified by the lack of a trail left by the killer. Musing on the meaning of this, Khalil casts around for other options; either the killer was very clever or possessed mystical means of concealing a trail. His mind wandering he glances up and down the alleyway, then at the wall and above that to the roofs. Nothing, not a trace…. Interesting….

This is an old crime, Khalil was suddenly very aware of how many people have probably been past here in curiosity, the chance of uncovering something new was slim. Still better to ask rather than assume. Straightening he turns to leave the alley, but stops as an idea tweaks his mind. Reaching out he places a hand on the wall, stretching his fingers into the chipped stonework trying to get a sense of the nature of the hands (if that’s what they were) that had done this.

The desert guide could barely stretch his knuckles to meet the marks in the stone; whoever did this was larger than a man, but no more than a few feet taller than himself. But the depth of the marks were worrying, Khalil's fingers sink to the second knuckle in several. It would not be possible for a simple man of strength to do this, the force required was vast.

Thinking on this as he turns away, giving the blood one last look, he heads towards the ramshackle tavern. So the site of the murder says little, perhaps more may be gained from the lips of men, he muses. Grateful for the removal of the peace bonds, his hand flexes on the hilt of a scimitar in preparedness as he pushes on the rough-hewn door...

The Nest of Many Serpents was a shabby looking place, as a whole, but also nearly deserted. A few of the toughest looking customers remained in place, while the bartender, a tall, broad-shouldered pirate of a man nodded to Khalil as he entered.

Hand relaxing slightly at the lack of immediate threat the desert guide closes the door behind him and walks slowly across the room. The place was similar to many other flea pit taverns he had frequented, although it seemed this was slow night. Keeping an eye on the small group of drinkers he approaches the bar. [Pharazian] "Quiet tonight Affendi?" he asks of the barkeep.

"Bah! Sure is." The bar-tender, for all his size, seemed to be willing to grouse in the manner of barkeeps world-round. "Everyone's terrified of the fiend; business is dead, dead, dead...."

"Well perhaps providing a traveller with a drink may help matters?” Khalil places a coin on the bar in payment, and waits for the barkeep to pour before continuing. "Dead, dead, dead, quite an interesting use of phrase, perhaps you refer to the poor men killed not so far from this establishment." Khalil eyes the barkeep carefully as continues "What can you tell me of this matter Affendi?"

The bartender shrugged, probably have told this tale a dozen times to ghoulish curiosity-seekers. "Not much to tell. Daran and his crew were drunk as camels. Didn't think too much of the screaming, but come morning, there's Daran, and some bastard stole his face. And the son of a camel owed me a bar tab too."

"Hmm forgive me for asking Affendi, but what nature of man was this Daran, was he the sort to attract trouble?"

“Daran was a lout, that's what he was." In the manner of bartenders, he was also willing to expound upon whatever rumours crossed his mind. "Caused trouble just for fun, not like ol' Hakim. I'll say this though, Daran was the toughest brawler I've ever seen, and his cronies weren't much worse."

"Yes they say this fiend is strong as the desert wind, but still to kill three tough men in such a manner..." Khalil pauses sipping whatever foul concoction has been placed in front of him and offering prayer to Anubis to be able to keep it down. "Besides the screaming did anyone hear or see anything that night, I mean has anyone actually seen the fiend?"

"Four men." The bartender corrected. "Not that I know of... people scream a lot out here, that’s what happens." The piratical barkeep grinned even as Khalil looked dubiously at the drink. "I think some 'attendant' up in the Old Quarter saw it and lived. Wonder what she offered it." The man laughed coarsely.

"Indeed" Khalil chuckles to avoid taking another sip. "But I do not mean to be rude, but surely a city like this is no stranger to death, even death by violence most terrible, why is there such demon fever abroad?"

"Cause it attacks anybody. Inside, outside, rich, poor. Nobody can stop it, and...." The bartender stopped, speaking in an ominous voice. "It doesn't just kill you. It steals your soul."

Khalil began to wonder if this man knew anything or whether he was simply a repository for every rumour and twisted fact in the city. "I wonder... was this the first time the demon struck? I mean had there been other crimes or events similar in nature but perhaps not as hideous?"

The bartender cleaned a squeaky clay glass, considering this new question. "First I heard it. Think you'd have people pouring in to look at it, but they just stop by and don't buy anything but the cheapest drink. Ghouls the lot of them."

Khalil puts down his drink then subtly places a second coin on the bar, certainly one of a more golden hue, and peering intently at the bartender asks: "tell me, who has been looking around the site of the murder?"

"Confessors, mostly." The bartender grasped the coin, making it disappear. "Saw some crow of a man dressed in black robes hanging around from time to time, but haven't seen him recently."

Khalil eyes brighten slightly at the mention of the man in black. "A crow you say, can you describe this man Affendi?"

"Tall fellow, about your height, I think. Silent, didn't move much, wore a big robe with the hood up so can't tell you what he looked like. Just stood in a corner for a few hours day after the attack, left a little before the Confessors showed up, then came back when they left. Stayed there till I closed up at night, didn't see him the next morning."

"Most interesting, thank you." Khalil brings the drink to his lips but doesn’t drink, inside he's wondering about whether there is a connection here or perhaps simply a curiously dressed sightseer? Changing tack he returns to the victim "I would be most interested in finding a little more about the man Daran, whom would be most reasonable to talk to?"

"No idea. Don't think he had a family, so you probably won't find anyone better than me." The bartender said with a measure of pride. "I know just about everything as happens in this place."

"Indeed? Well then perhaps you may enlighten me as to the nature of our mans business, beyond the drinking and brawling of course?"

"Odd job man, really." The bartender winked to show just what *kind* of odd jobs Daran and his crew did. "Bit o' this, bit o' that. Had some money in his pocket just before he got squeezed like a tomato."

Khalil nods with a slight grin at the wink. "Say perhaps a man wanted to have some money in his pocket for shall we say odd jobs, where would he go to get that money?"

"Well........ Rahul's good for a bit o' stuff, carrying things and such. Rocks are heavy for them coffins of his." The bartender tapped his fingers on the table. "Hakim used to ask for a bit of help now and then, but I haven't seen him in much. And there's always quiet work with al-Mustafa's bully boys."

"You mentioned this Hakim before, who is he?"

"Hakim? Gravekeeper out at the Necropolis." The bartender shuddered a bit, for show Khalil thought. "Creepy fellow, living with all the dead outside his front door. Always pays his tab though, and never breaks things, so he's alright."

Khalil nods and forgetting himself sips the drink, fighting not to gag he clears his throat and places a further coin stealthily on the bar. "I will certainly bear that in mind Affendi, perhaps I may look for some odd jobs during my stay, you have been most helpful and I must shortly leave. But tell me Affendi do you fear this demon?"

For once, the jovial bartender's voice was soft. "Doesn't everyone?"


[OOC: Later back at the ranch]

Dementlieuse Embassy, The Foreign Quarter, Phiraz
May 23rd, 761, 6:25 PM; Day 67 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"It would seem I may add a little to that already spoken." Says Khalil as he rejoins the others. The desert guide elaborates with a quick rundown of events at the Nest of Many serpents.

"It would seem there are several key facts here, firstly the assailant is a little alrger than the average man, but importantly is far stronger than shoudl be possible."

"Secondly as you both report there was no trail of blood leaving the scene, and considering the violence this is most unusual."

"Then there is the man in black visiting the scene." At this point he pauses and receits the description. "Tall, nearly six feet, Silent, didn't move much, wore a big black robe with the hood up. Just stood in a corner for a few hours day after the attack, left before the Confessors showed up, then came back when they left. Stayed there well into the night."

"Finally and this is most tenuous, I would suggest a visit to the grave keeper, he may have little to do with the matter but it would be useful to rule out the lead."

[yalenusveler]

"A good idea" Andre mused, starting into his pacing again...and now that they were back at the embassy, he was holding Pumpkin, petting the large orange cat as he thought. "Now, the question is...what kind of shape shifter are we dealing with? Even if it doesn't maintain its shape shifting ability, it might be helpful to know."

Andre winced inwardly...too many unknowns right now, and what they did know painted a most unpleasant picture. "Kuzan, did the gent who was ripped apart look like it was via an application of raw brute force, or like he was bitten in two?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia has just been listening quietly to what everyone has had to say, so far, sitting near a window and peering at what goes on outside while the others talk. The observant may notice she is wearing a plain, silver ring on her left hand now, the metal looking as if it was freshly polished. The observant may also notice that Lia seems to be in the mother of bad moods; the air around her is slightly tingly with the feeling of arcane power.

[Kaitou Kage]

"He was ripped apart," Kuzan said, "Almost like the beast had grabbed him by the head and the feet and tugged him open." The priest shook his head, grimacing. "And, as is probably expected, the skull and the front of the face were both unharmed...minus the missing face." Another grimace.

"There's almost certainly going to be another murder tonight," the priest observed, stating what everyone else probably knew but hadn't said, "In the morning, I'd like to go see the aftermath. Anyone who wants to come with me would be appreciated. I'm still willing to bet it'll be in a different part of the city than the others. Each one's been in a different district from the others. Makes me wonder if there's a systematic sweep." He trailed off. "Anyway, if the potential victim escapes like the lady last night, I'll go see the house Tomas found yesterday."

He glanced at Charles, and then Lia, a question bubbling up to be asked. But he pushed it back down. Some matters were better saved for private discussion. Still, his eyes rested on Lia in both concern and confusion. He'd never actually seen the woman so volatiley angry before.

...Probably best just to stay out of her way.

[yalenusveler]

"Otto and theorized the killings might be ritual." Andre offers "One in each district...an attempt to summon some foul darkness, perhaps." He knew the theory sounded a bit off, but still. "But the likelihood we're dealing with an Undead...makes that seem strange. Still, the dripping unholy water. Oh..and Defacers..steal a bit of your soul when they strike you. It's not enough to cause any lasting harm...but it's certainly enough to shake you up for a moment, make you loose focus."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"If we have a theory," Lia suddenly says, "as to which area this murderer-fiend might strike in ... I might be able to have the area 'staked out', as it were. My familiar can speak to others of his kind. If Phiraz is like any other city I've been in, there should be bats within its walls, yes? Grimmric might be able to rally them to our cause, with the proper incentive."
Despite her voice being a calm monotone, the skin-tingling sensation of barely controlled rage around the Mordentishwoman does not abate in the slightest.
"Personally, I would not object to accompanying whoever is going to speak to this undertaker or the only surviving witness. If either group particularly wants me along, let me know." Lia lapses into silence again, her chin resting on her hand as she looks broodingly out the window.

[yalenusveler]

Andre decided to be the one to bite the bullet as it were, finally turning to Lia. "A rather good idea, actually...unfortunately, I'm not sure where the next attack will be. Did you find anything of use at the library, or?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Charles reported our findings at the library already," Lia replies, sounding almost absent-minded now. "How many areas of this city have not seen murder yet? If I send Grimmric out right now, he might be able to contact his kinsmen in all ... or direct them to sweep all, if they can be moved to do so. We might need to feed them in order to persuade them to help us, mind. Bats are ... simple creatures."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Aren't we all," Charles says drily. "It would be no bad thing to be on the streets ourselves at midnight, just in case, although we would have to go in groups of four at least. I'm not sure we can put much stock in a geographical arrangement for the murders; we seem to have had one successful and one failed attempt in the Old Quarter, one in the Low Quarter and one in the High Quarter--and the failure occurred after the success, not before. But let's find out how the Confessors are arranging their patrols and how we can get word if any of them learn something, or are near the scene when the creature strikes again. Speaking of Confessors--now that we are somewhere reasonably secure--did any of you also notice that the High Confessor is under the mental control of someone or something?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia starts and glances at Charles. "I had not," she replies. "How did you?" Even as she speaks, she is pulling Grimmric's box from her pack and opens it, letting the little bat clamber onto her shoulder, from which perch it regards everyone else in the room with glittering eyes.

[Kaitou Kage]

"I would also like to go see the graveyard bodies in time," the priest said, "but with the curfew, I'm doubtful we'll get much out of the undertaker, even with the Prophet's authority."

But Charles's observation made him balk for a moment.

"I thought he was just mad that foreigners were being given his job," the priest said.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"No, I'm quite sure," Charles replies. "He was upset about our involvement, certainly; I think the level of control being exerted is subtle. But there was more than that. It's just a knack," he says in response to Lia's question. "There's something slightly off about those who are under enchantment--they react a little slowly to some things, their eyes don't track normally--hard to spot, but you can do it with practice. It's a fairly common trick at the lesser rigorous sort of casino--lay a minor enchantment or two and watch the coins roll in!"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"So we may be facing confessors working to hinder our investigation," Lia concludes, "or possibly to harm us. Not all confessors would be given Diamabel's orders directly, after all. And from what we saw of the byplay between the chief confessor and the vizier, I imagine the chief tries to have his troops have as little to do with the vizier's office as possible. Whoever controls the chief confessor can have him give some of his men 'special orders'.
Under other circumstances, I would suggest reporting this to the vizier and the prophet, but unless we can irrefutably prove that the chief confessor is being manipulated, it would be our word against his. And we are the dhimmi around here. Not a favourable situation."