D&D 3rd Edition / 3.5 Scotley's and Leif's 14th Ward Constables [3.5E D&D] [IC 04] - Page 18


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  1. #171
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    I Defended The Walls!I Defended The Walls!The Perturbed Dragon

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    Ederaul Mamier

    Raul snacks lightly as the constables wait for the priest to leave. His thoughts are on a certain elvish woman and an upcoming date on the second night of the Festival.

 

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    OOC: As Raul is contemplating his date, let's be sure that his hands remain visible at all times. We don't want him to 'soil' a corner of the Magistrate's Office, especially not while Elke is in the room.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Helfdan View Post
    Alarion thanks Elke as he ponders her words. "My friends, it sounds as if our Chief Constable will not be in the best of moods..."
    Brae smiles. "Indeed, but perhaps we may be of some help in improving his mood."
    - Rhun

    For every one hundred men you send us, Ten should not even be here. Eighty are nothing but targets. Nine of them are real fighters; We are lucky to have them, they the battle make. Ah, but the one. One of them is a warrior. And he will bring the others back. - Heraclitus of Ephesus, 500 BC

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    The door to the Magistrates office opens with a rush and the Cleric stalks out looking no happier than when he entered. A slightly red-faced Ignatius Ironshirt stands by his desk. He glares out a moment and then makes a curt come-hither gesture in your direction. He returns to his chair and looks up at you all. "So I hear we have a bunch of goblin beer thieves in the lock up. You know boys you really need not try to hard to take goblin's prisoner if they are resisting. I mean we can't have you taking unnecessary chances of getting hurt for the sake of a couple of goblins now can we? If you have to use a little more force to keep yourselves safe the people of the 14th understand. I understand." He glances down at some papers on his desk and then looks up again. With a sigh he continues. "That new Patriarch over in Clayfields has been listening to the superstitious tales of the old nuns. He's convinced there is a killer loose. Now mind you this supposed killer hasn't stuck in 5 years, but he's decided that he's in danger and that it is our problem. Much as I hate to waste your time on it we don't have a lot that's pressing just now. With winter coming on it is going to get quiet anyway. Go down there and see what he's on about."

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    "No worries, good Magistrate," says Brae, smiling widely through his beard. "I kept a close eye on the other Constables, and made sure they were never in too great of danger." The cleric of Meda takes another sip of his tea. "So, what can you tell us of this killer? What was his modus operandi during the time that he was committing these foul murders?"
    - Rhun

    For every one hundred men you send us, Ten should not even be here. Eighty are nothing but targets. Nine of them are real fighters; We are lucky to have them, they the battle make. Ah, but the one. One of them is a warrior. And he will bring the others back. - Heraclitus of Ephesus, 500 BC

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    In the Magistrate's Office

    Iggy shakes his head rapidly from side to side as if to evade an annoying mosquito and says to Brae, "That's part of what I want you to find out in Clayfields! Now scoot!"

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    Alarion gives Iggy a small bow, then leads the way out of the room. "So... to the Clayfields it is, nay?"

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    SoulFetter grins at Iggy's irascibility. All must be right with the world. The day Iggy's not grouchy is the day I'll really start to worry.

    He follows Alarion out of the room.
    "Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats."
    -- H.L. Mencken



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    Clayfields

    As you should know by know, Clayfields is the lowest of the lower class neighborhoods in the 14th Ward. The largest, busiest street in the neighborhood is Clayfields Row. The population here is mostly Goblin, Hobgoblin, Human, and Dwarf, with a light sprinkling of the occasional gnome or halfling. Residents of Clayfields provide much of the unskilled labor across the 14th, but a few of the more enterprising sorts are shopkeepers or tavern owners. This is one of the only places where a hobgoblin tavern would be tolerated. You know of one of the biggest taverns/dens of iniquity in Clayfields -- the Three-Legged Pony, a large pub and dance hall and the usual hang-out of one of the most notorious gangs in Clayfields, The Governors, who are a local collection of roughnecks, hoodlums, and "usual suspects." Not having any other, more promising leads, the Constables figure that this is as good a place to begin their investigation as any. Approaching the Three Legged Pony, you see the familiar sign: it shows a drunken-looking pony with with a keg emblazoned with three large X's holding it up where a right foreleg should be.

    OOC Local Color
    A favorite drink here is the 'horsey brew.' The exact contents remain a mystery, but it packs quite a wallop and some have speculated that it contains anything from pure grain alcohol, to the acid from the second stomach of a dragon, to embalming fluid. Since this drink also provides a substantial portion of an evening's 'floor show' at the Three-Legged Pony (by way of both the hideous faces that the consumer displays and the many fights that are provoked by the insanity inflicted by the drink) prices are artificially cheap to encourage more to so imbibe (2cp/shot).
    Last edited by Leif; Monday, 13th December, 2010 at 01:59 PM.

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    "Well, let's try not to bust too many heads," says Brae, quarterstaff resting over his right shoulder as he considers the tavern before them. "And try not to get ours busted either."
    - Rhun

    For every one hundred men you send us, Ten should not even be here. Eighty are nothing but targets. Nine of them are real fighters; We are lucky to have them, they the battle make. Ah, but the one. One of them is a warrior. And he will bring the others back. - Heraclitus of Ephesus, 500 BC

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