Fable - Ask Who Dun It

[Arn]

Helea - Near the Cortosi Border
"Mr. Mayor, I'm not sure that's within our purview..." Arn said slowly, glancing around at his fellow Guardsmen.

They had been stationed here in Helea as something of a scout force, more of an...alarm measure than any real defensive force. The Cortosi-or rather the Coalition of Free Cities, or the CFC, had been screening their forces across the river into Anirian territory. Arn and the others had been sent to Helea as watchmen, meant to patrol around the vast fields of the village every day and report any sign of enemy activity.

So far there had been none, but now the mayor had an...interesting request.

"But we have no else to turn to!" The man complained to the Guardsmen in front of him. "Ain't been a Marshall in town for nearly six months, and getting word to the Vestigare could take weeks! We need someone to look into this now. It's a serious crime! I already have a dozen parishioners up my ass, and the town is starting to fall apart. Even the taverns are locking their doors at night!"

A frown pulled at Arn's lips, and his heart ached somewhat. Though he had told everyone that he was from Viret, truth was he came from a village not so different than Helea. A place made up of mostly farmers, with two taverns, a blacksmith, and not much more to boast about. A crime like this sent waves through the community, and he couldn't help but feel for the man. "Please, you The Guard. You're meant to protect us. I know you're here for the Coalition...but this might be connected!"

The Mayor argued, and Arn answered without thinking.

"Alright, Mr. Mayor." He declared, not giving his companions any time to object. "We'll, we'll take a look."

Arn said, then added with a sigh. "Where did the murder happen?"

 

[Rhory Grimmere]

Rhory had stood a few paces to the left of Arn, arms crossed and her face frowning.

A murder was not really their concern, but they also had nothing better to do. Were any of them truly qualified to lead the investigation? Probably not, but Rhory was good at seeing patterns... if there were any.

She turned to look at Arn, skewering him with a look that had differing emotions. Doubt, uncertainty, intrigue. Rhory then turned to look over her shoulder to see the others gathered with them, shrugging at them as if to say 'What else are we to do?'

 

[Owain]

Owain hadn't been this excited on a job in the Guard since, well, ever. Back home there hadn't been much reading material other than what the nobles brought over to the island. Usually it was some dull book about philosophy or history or etiquette. Useful for learning how they thought but not exactly entertaining.

Then, there was that one summer when he'd swiped a stack of detective novellas.

He slammed a hand upon the mayor's desk, which was shabby old thing in the center of the mayor's barn. You couldn't really expect lavish digs in a farming town, hell, the mayor himself was a rancher. "We're on the case, sir, the Guard is more than equipped to find this killer!"

In an instant the mayor's demeanor shifted and let out a beaming smile. "Oh, that's great! I can't tell you how stressed we've all been!" The mayor extended a hand covered in callouses from a lifetime of physical labor and gave Owain's palm a mighty shake.

Turning to Arn the mayor began to speak, "well, the first murder," he pivoted his gaze back to Owain, correctly identifying that Special Agent Awbrey was the real brains behind this little operation. "It was late at night, Mr. Pryor left Brook's Tavern after spending the evening there with his side of the community."

"His side of the community?" Owain had already taken out a piece of parchment and charcoal, taking notes as the mayor spoke.

"Yes, it's the reason we have two taverns. Brook's and McGable's. Community's been split in two over a family feud for a few generations now." It was news to Owain, although maybe they'd brought it up in a briefing that he'd barely paid attention to. Made sense though, the mayor's ranch was practically in the middle of the town and he'd be willing to wager the mayor mostly stayed out of the community's long-standing feud.

Owain rubbed at his chin in a pensive gesture. "Interesting," his words mysterious like in one of the many novellas he'd read.

 

[Everett Ebersol]

There came a time in every young man's life to take on the role of a leader. Luckily, Arn and Owain had stepped up for such an essential role so Everett could enjoy the lack of responsibility. He stood next to Rhory, looking all at once uncomfortable and nauseous as if the thought of murder sickened him physically. He didn't try to smile, nor did he speak up.

Owain had already gotten the next clue they needed, allowing Everett to slack off even more. He watched the blonde rub his chin and absently thought about how that was a good way to get acne.

"The first murder..." Everett hummed to himself. "Are you sure it's not some secret, underground goblin blood feud going around under your nose?"

Arn Rhory Grimmere Owain

 

[Arn]

"I...highly doubt it..." The Mayor said slowly to Everett. "We haven't seen a Goblin here in almost half a century."

Arn frowned for a moment, his head shaking. "I don't know, Mayor, you'd be surprised. They're more common than you'd think."

He had recently, along with Owain and Rho actually encountered a group of goblins. Granted, they had been mind-controlled by a Dreadlord, but who was to say that wasn't what was going on here? Although, he really hoped it wasn't.

Arn had had enough of wizards. "Yes...well, regardless, I think once you see the crime scene you'll agree that it's unlikely."

"Right, we'll go there immediately. It was the Towin McGable's farm, right?" Arn asked, and the Mayor nodded. Quickly pulling out a map from his desk that showed the entire township of Helea. As it turned out, the village itself was not simply contained within as small a footage as the Guardsmen had thought.

Much like Arn's own home, the town of Helea was only the central part of a much larger community. One that sprawled out and was inevitably deeply involved in the feud. One side of the river belonging to each family with farms, homesteads, and hunting blinds scattered throughout. Towin McGable's farm was located about three miles out of town on the side of a hilltop.

The three Guardsmen set out quickly after leaving the Mayors house, Arn leading the way as he clutched the map. Rho, Everette, and Owain close behind. "I'm going to be honest guys."

Arn said as they began their trek up the mountain road.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." A statement that might prompt the thought 'when do you ever?' in the minds of his fellow Guard.

 

[Rhory Grimmere]

Rhory gave Arn a small smile.

"Because the first thing we need to do is to get more information. You hold the map of Helea, but we need a map of what happened." She turned, reluctantly, to Owain. "Isn't that right?"

She stretched her arm over Everett's shoulder, which was a little bit of a stretch as he was taller, but gave Arn a reassuring smile. "Look, we are a team. With the four of us? We will do the Mayor some justice in finding out what happened!" And Rhory did have that confidence in the team to work well together.

"Come on, O. What's that brain telling you?"

 

[Owain]

Goblins. That was a damn good lead until the mayor immediately dismissed it.

He stayed in quiet contemplation as the group initially set out upon the mountain road. Following Arn's directions as he took a look at the map. Owain didn't need a map. He had an investigative mind, piecing together clues, envisioning the crime scene, establishing motives, and if absolutely necessary... carrying out frontier justice.

Alright, that last part probably wouldn't happen. He was still a bit squeamish about blood despite his exploits thus far in the Guard.

"Well Rhory," his detective meditation finally ended, "I think your instincts are absolutely correct."

He placed a comforting hand on Arn's shoulder. "Our good pal here is clueless because we haven't spoken to any of the witnesses yet."

Giving a knowing glance to Rho and Everett he smiled. "See, I've read lots of books on," oh god, please don't admit to your mates that you read detective and romance novellas, "the theories of solving crimes."

That was good. That sounded legit.

"We're going to need to talk to the folks at Towin McGable's farm. Establish alibis," which was just a fancy word for 'where were you when this poor guy got whacked, "figure out if there are any motives."

Owain didn't need to say much more than that. Everyone knew that Everett and Owain were the real people pleasers in this group, they'd obviously be taking the lead in these interviews once they arrived at the farm.

 

[Everett Ebersol]

Everett hunched over, reducing his height by a good inch or two, not minding the clink of metal against metal from Rhory’s gauntlet. He had to admit, he also had very little ideas in what to do. He was sure the goblin blood feud made sense, and despite the mayor’s dismissal of it, it was still his number one reason for the murder. He might have to sneak away to do his own bit of investigation, prove his own theory right. Speaking of theories….

It was amazing that Owain could read. Sure, Everett had seen letters enough— and actually, he could spell his own name and find the letters in his name elsewhere in places that had a literate majority— but he wasn’t sure he could obtain the knowledge to read and then use it to read a book about theories.

“Alibis, right.” Everett said, giving a confident nod. Perfect chance to ask a person if they saw a goblin running through a field or if they heard any warbling war cries at night. Foggy eyes brightened for a moment, as if the sun cleared the clouds away to reveal an icy sky. “If we dig up the bodies I could identify the murder weapon, see if the same weapon that was used is just sitting around their home.” As long as it came from a blade. If it was magic, Everett was more clueless about that than the alphabet.

Arn Rhory Grimmere Owain

 

[Arn]

Turns out, there weren't many folk left at Towin McGables farm.

The Squad arrived at the small homestead without much fanfare or...any notice really. It seemed that Towin's two daughters and wife had moved on after his passing, and the farm had been left all but abandoned. The four of them stepped out from the main road that snaked up through the forest, presented with the small wooden cottage just sitting there. "Not sure we're going to find many Alibis here."

Arn said quietly with a frown.

"Though not sure why anyone would abandon a perfectly good farm." He said, looking around the fields which lay within the clearings around them, noting the crops were nearly ready to harvest but were almost entirely untouched. "They're probably just a few miles away though."

The Guardsmen said, extending the map towards Owain so he could see that the other McGable homesteads were practically around the corner. "They probably just wanted to make sure we had room to investigate."

Arn reasoned as he walked through the field and towards the front door.

"I mean, why else would the-" The word died on the Guardsmen's throat as he opened the front door, the scene beyond greeting him as nothing less than an utter massacre. Sprays of blood decorating the walls, floor, and even ceiling. Pieces of Towin McGable still stuck within the floorboards where he had been rent into pieces.

The Farmboy immediately turning away from the open door and emptying the contents of his stomach as a wave of decay and swarm of flies greeted him.

 

[Rhory Grimmere]

The stench got her before her eyes could see inside properly, panicking to turn around when Arn quickly moved from the door. Rhory retched hearing Arn empty himself, choosing to put some distance between her and the door... and her brother-in-arms.

"I am NOT going in there!" She groaned, hands on her knees as she weathers through a bout of nausea. "Nah uh... that was horrid."

Rhory righted herself, grimacing at the memory of the smell of decay burning into her lungs.

"We should take a walk around, Arn. Leave Owain and Ev to look into... the house." Rhory pointed towards the pens and paddocks, animals still occupying the spaces. At least their stink would smell worlds better than the house. She was also glad to not have seen the interior, and what mess had been left there.

 

[Owain]

Everything Arn was saying made sense. Knowing that the real authorities were in town gave Towin and whatever family he had an excuse to clear out, let the professionals invetigate.

"For sure Everett," he offered to his other Guardsmen before re-focusing his attention on Arn. Then he saw the carnage, the blood, and the mutilated corpse.

Poor farmboy went and wretched up his lunch. Rhory didn't fair much better either.

Clearly neither of them grew up back on the isle. Nobles dispatched of half-elf prostitutes and small time business rivals in similar manners all the time. Although, admittedly, they usually just dumped the bodies into the ocean instead of putting on such a gruesome scene.

An idea bloomed. "Huh," a single word spoken with such authority, "this is exactly what I expected to find here."

He'd let Everett fill in the rest of the details while he continued to pretend at being the wise detective.

 

[Everett Ebersol]

There were certain smells that accompanied animals. Everett had been to enough farms, enough tanneries, and enough manors to know what sort of animals were there and could even guess how many. His nose wasn’t as good as his father’s, who could smell when a ewe was ready to give birth or if the blood from a bull would be stale before cutting into its throat.

“Part of the trade,” his father always said when he quizzed Everett to then only be disappointed by his son’s answers. “You’ll learn in due time.”

Everett knew the smell of chopped organs sitting out in the sun, he knew the smell of fermented horse milk, and even the smell of three penis wine stored in a cheap leather cask (not because Everett carried it, but his father had this traveling friend with eccentric tastes.) He knew the smell of someone who was dying, whether from pus-filled sores that were left gaping on the skin, or just the smell of old people in general.

Everett couldn’t blame Arn when he let the sick out, and he couldn’t blame Rhory for leading him away. The air was filled with rot, sweet and savory, like salted pork almost. There was a fatty overtone, an unsubtle greasiness in the air, heavy on Everett’s nostrils.

He didn’t enjoy the smell but he could withstand it. A part of him even felt useful as he went inside, feeling residue stick to the sturdy soles of his boots.

“Almost like they ripped him apart with their bare hands,” the scene was horrific, sure, but Everett had grown up around slaughter. His father was humane, though. Each cut precise and a mercy. “This is clearly torture.” He turned to Owain. “Either they wanted to leave a message or they enjoyed doing this. A crime of passion.” He paused for a moment. “Or goblins. Very possibly goblins. They like getting their hands dirty and sinking their dirty little teeth into things.” He eyed a stray tooth, embedded into the wall, pieces of skin and hair near it.

“But goblins love collecting teeth.” At least, that’s what Everett had heard.

Arn Rhory Grimmere Owain

 

[Arn]

Arn didn't resist as Rhory practically pulled him away. Using the hem of his cloak to wipe away some of the sick from his mouth. Stomach still spinning as his heavy boots tromped in the earth, a breath drawing into his lungs as he finally managed to pull his head up. "Dear Anirius!"

He proclaimed in the name of the old saint.

"That was horrid." The Farmboy complained. "I mean, I worked in a butchery for a few weeks, but at least we didn't hold onto no rotten meat."

Arn said, his head shaking as more of his peasant accent filtered through. Fingers clutching onto the haft of his ax as though it were a walking stick. His head contemplating what the others were poking through. Wondering if this murder was the start of something, the trail to something bigger.

As they walked, he took a breath, then stopped. "Rho, you see that?"

The Farmboy asked, pointing to a cusp of broken branches. Within them, between splintered and gnarled wood, were stolen tufts of fur.

 

[Rhory Grimmere]

"And I thought my five brothers would have prepared me for such a stench." She added, trying to lighten the mood after such a gruesome assault to their sense of smell. She had never been anywhere that dealt with animals or unsightly smells, having been privileged to learn to fight under the expectation of her father. Rhory was given a more masculine spelling of her name in hopes that she would live up to the standard her brothers held when it came to being part of the Guard.

She could only hope they wouldn't be disappointed she reacted in such a way just now.

Rhory had at least a few feet between herself and Arn as they walked, her head snapping to him as he spoke before turning her head to where his gaze stared. It didn't look too out of place, but the close she got to it, she realised it was unusual. No other animal present and visible had fur like this... or had use for branches.

"What do you think it is?" She asked nudging a branch with her boot. Didn't look like a boot broke these branches...

 

[Owain]

Owain had been certain about a few things. This murder had happened, he was going to solve it, and Everette was going to help him do it.

"Bear hands?" It was a strange thought. He didn't think there were bears nearby and he wasn't sure why a bear would torture someone but... oh, he meant... right...

An index finger tapped at Owain's chin in contemplation. "Hmm, what if this is related to the feud the mayor spoke of?" That was smart. It sounded like something a real marshall in the novels would've said. Luckily his compatriot had ruled out goblins for a second time because Owain was pretty certain the goblin hordes were not suspects any longer.

Kneeling down towards the floor he took in the wretched stench before pulling his sleeve up towards his nostril. His stomach was a bit hardier than Arn's but the smell was still hitting him like an ox. He pressed a finger upon the wood and looked up and down at the trail of blood the corpse had left behind.

'Yeah, this is definitely blood,' was basically the only statement that came to his mind but he resisted actually speaking the words aloud.

Instead, "maybe we should canvas the area," god, yes, canvas was such a good detective-y word, "meet up with Arn and Rho afterwards, see how their part of the investigation is going." Which was the kindest way of saying, 'make sure Arn still has his lunch in his gut.'

With that Owain stood and walked around to survey the edges of the barn.

 

[Everett Ebersol]

“Oh yeah, the feud. I forgot about that.” Everett admitted, a sheepish look briefly crossing over his face. He pursed his lips in contemplation, realizing that if the feud was the reason why then this investigation was far from over.

“Why are they fighting again?” He asked, turning to Owain to look for answers and seeing that he had already moved on. With a brisk step, Everett followed after, sticking to the smartest one of the group like a duckling to its mother. He stood this, hands at his side and gray eyes roved over the area, trying to commit every detail to his memory, but his short term memory had never been the best. Neither was his long term memory.

It was going to be really hard to try and paint all of this to show Arn and Rhory. Everett didn’t even want to try and think about his lacking art skills.

Arn Rhory Grimmere Owain

 

[Arn]

"It looks like fur." Arn said stating the obvious, frowning as he took a few steps towards the branches.

He wasn't a very good tracker, at least not according to his 'Pa. That man could find his way through the Falwood, or so everyone at the Tavern liked to brag, but still, Arn knelt down and did his best anyway. A frown touched the farmboys lips as he inspected the damage to the tree. "There's claw marks here."

The Guardsmen noted.

"More fur...up there." At his height, meaning...very tall. Taller than any dog or elk would be. "Hey Rho..."

Arn said with a slight frown as he walked over towards one of the further branches, leaning in and inspecting one of the tufts of fur stuck in a broken branch. His lips pressing thin. "Would you...recognize werewolf fur if you saw it?"

He asked, swallowing hard.

 

[Rhory Grimmere]

Yes.

"Um..." Rhory followed Arn warily, as if something could jump out at them at any time. "I have only seen one..." But her father, her brothers, they had all boasted so much about felling the creatures that she too knew more than she thought she would retain.

She crouched to one knee, fingers gingerly poking at the fur before rolling some of the fibers between thumb and forefinger. It was unruly enough to be a wolf's coat, but there also was a distinct smell. With a grimace, she lifted it just shy of her nose, inhaling softly and looking up to see where Arn wandered to.

"It... it's similar. But..." Abandoning the fur and branches now, Rhory wandered past Arn, to a tree that caught her attention. Her hand mimicked the trajectory of the swipe, the rounding the trunk and coming to an abrupt stop. She inhaled sharply, pulling her hand away but it was not hard to notice how her fingers came away scarlet with blood.

 

[Owain]

The feud. It had obviously been mentioned in the briefing but Owain couldn't recall the why of it at all. "Family shit," he muttered under his breath, unwilling to admit he hadn't bothered to pay attention during their pre-mission briefing.

Eventually he caught up to Arn and Rhory, though he'd missed the entire context of what they were speaking about. All he'd really heard were the last few words spoken by Rho, something about familiar things as she touched some strange red markings on a tree.

"Yeah, that makes perfect sense," Owain offered while nodding stoically and glancing at the same tree the two were observing so closely.

All those markings, the obvious blood, maybe it was possible that they'd been on the wrong track this whole time. All of this pointed towards one obvious culprit, one they'd barely even considered thus far.

Goblins.

It had been there the whole time and they'd let the mayor convince them otherwise. What other creature would mark up trees and torment their victims like that? "You guys are thinking what I'm thinking, right?"