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He's a Chain-Smoking Detective. He's a Robot on the Lam. Together, They Fight Crime!
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<blockquote data-quote="Pell-Mell" data-source="post: 4067883" data-attributes="member: 50273"><p><strong>CASE FILE 002: THE CASE OF THE STOLEN KEY</strong></p><p><em>Session 8, Part 1: ...And All This Before Breakfast</em></p><p></p><p>The street was already hot and the ancient sun was barely over the horizon, rays of golden-red light lancing through humid, smog-laden air. Dirk sat in the shadows near the second floor window of the offices of Case and Nine Investigations, his presence betrayed only by the glowing ember of his cigarette. The rogue watched the scene on the street below with detached interest. Across the way, Meldrop's Lock and Key, a locksmith shop, was being looted by a gang of filthy men, each holding a length of broken pipe or makeshift blade. He saw no gang signs or colors among them; they were probably unincorporated, the lowest order of scum.</p><p></p><p>Dirk took another drag off his cigarette and looked up and down the lane. Where were the RazorFeathers? The gang of kenku that Dirk and Case Nine, as well as the other businesses on the street, paid for protection were nowhere to be seen. In fact, except for the punks, the street was deserted. Even Shambling Dan had vanished, some instinct in the rotten brain of the zombie still providing a vestige of self-preservation. The rogue sighed and crushed out his smoke in the ashtray by the window, the cigarette crumpling on the belly of the bare-breasted succubus on the bottom of the tray, the words "CIBOLA AWAITS!" over her horned head.[SUP]1[/SUP]</p><p></p><p>Dirk got up and walked across the room, grabbing his leather jacket and taking his gun from the night table beside his disheveled bed. They would have to take care of it. If they didn't, the street would get a reputation as an easy target. The rogue made sure the gun was hidden beneath his jacket and hit the dimly lit panel of a box on the wall with the flat of his hand. The device crackled to life and Dirk whispered into it, "Case, we got some trouble up here. Meet me at the front door." The rogue looked back to the street and saw three more men emerge from the shadows of an alley and join their fellows in looting. "Bring your hammer." From his room in the basement, Case Nine responded, "Understood." The intercom went silent and the rogue grabbed his short sword before padding down the stairs into the first floor office.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p>Case Nine was already at the door when Dirk came down, his greathammer in his hands, "I have seen the intruders through the window." The warforged continued, "Mere went to the temple of her god early this morning and Meepo went with her. They will not be able to join us." Dirk nodded, "Try not to kill any of the punks out there. More problems than it's worth." The robot agreed and seeing his friend was ready, the duo made their way to the street.</p><p></p><p>Dirk had hoped that the sight of the massive Case Nine would send the looters running. Instead the ones on the outside gave a hoarse cry and several of the dregs inside the shop spilled out onto the sidewalk. Dirk stood to one side of the warforged, his blade out and ready, and called to the men, "Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy wa ..." They did not let the rogue finish, instead they swarmed forward with club and knife. The robot was ready for this and blocked the way between them and Dirk. Then the heavy hammer of Case Nine swung and bodies began to fly in all directions. "The hard way it is then.", Dirk muttered and ducked as a thug was sent soaring over him and careened into a nearby parked car.</p><p></p><p>Knowing that the robot could handle the thugs on the outside, Dirk wove between a parked jalopy of indeterminate make and a late model Centaurus and made his way into Meldrop's shop. Passing by the door, he could see that it was still intact with no sign of forced entry. The inside of the shop was dark, but even in the gloom Dirk could see it was a disaster. The rogue flicked the light switch and a set of overhead fluorescents flickered on. A startled cry from the backroom of the shop drew Dirk's attention and the rogue darted toward it, his blade at the ready.</p><p></p><p>Dirk nearly collided with a thug coming forward from the backroom, but the rogue rolled to one side, dropping his blade. He hit the ground and swept out with a savage kick, undercutting the punk and sending him sprawling. Before the dreg could recover, Dirk was up and on him, slamming him into the floor, "What are you doing here? You're not any gang I know." The thug spat in Dirk's face and struggled to free himself. The rogue clenched the throat of the looter with one hand and pulled out his gun with the other. Dirk shoved it into the temple of the man, whose eyes were now wide with terror and he went still. "Okay, let's try this again. What are you doing here?"</p><p></p><p>"Irontusk said the door would be open. Said we could have anything in the shop and the birds would be gone."[SUP]2[/SUP] Dirk growled, "Who is Irontusk?" The man moaned, realizing he had given out more information than he intended, but Dirk drilled the barrel of the gun into the thug's head until he responded, "Indie. Gnoll. Works out of Barge End. Said he only needed one thing in here, the rest was ours."[SUP]3[/SUP] The rogue pondered for a second, "What did Irontusk want?" The man's eyes rolled in anguish, his voice rising in pitch, "How the hell should I know? C'mon man, the cops are going to be here soon!" </p><p></p><p>Before Dirk could respond, Case Nine answered from the backroom doorway, "They have already arrived." Both Dirk and the thug cursed.</p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p>The scene outside was bad. The street was littered with broken men, miraculously all of them still breathing, and the gutters ran red with spilt blood. No less than two squads of police had responded, their rifles out and trained on the front of the locksmith shop. Commanding them was their sergeant, who rode high upon a horse and whose face was hidden behind a featureless mask of brown alchemic resin attached to his helmet. Behind them, lumbering up the street, was a Breaker and its keeper.[SUP]4[/SUP] The sergeant called out, his voice amplified by sorcery or electronics, "Everyone out! You will not be asked twice."</p><p></p><p>With the looter pushed out first by Case Nine, Dirk and the warforged exited the shop with their hands up and empty. Dirk glanced down the street and saw the Breaker, which by now, was up to the line of cops. Somebody must have called in their was a robot involved. No Scanners or Sniffers, though.[SUP]5,6[/SUP] At least there was that.</p><p></p><p>The duo and the looter were commanded to their knees, handcuffed, and roughly searched. The police found no weapons on any of them, for they had dropped their melee weapons inside the store and Dirk had hastily hidden his pistol when Case Nine dragged the thug out to face the authorities. Without a Sniffer, the rogue was confident that it would not be found. As Dirk was frisked, he told the cop that the ownership papers for Case Nine and licenses for their sword and greathammer were in his wallet. These were shown to the police sergeant, who by this time had dismounted, and briefly examined them before waving them away. A squad of the police entered the locksmith's shop and quickly determined it was empty, sounding an all-clear.</p><p></p><p>The police interrogation was brief. Dirk succinctly explained what had happened and the looter, knowing he was doomed, tried to drag the rogue down with him. He told the sergeant about Dirk's pistol, as private ownership of guns is illegal in the city, but the cop had heard enough and cut the thug off. The sergeant turned to one side and made a clicking sound. Then he was quietly talking to someone else, his helmet transmitting his message to elsewhere in the city. In short order, a black Cetus marked with the insignia of the police rolled up the still quiet street.[SUP]7[/SUP] Dour-faced men in simple dark uniforms disembarked and swung the rear doors open, unceremoniously loading the wounded thugs into the cavernous interior. The last thug was marched into the truck at gun point, the doors secured, and the Cetus rumbled off, its contents bound for the prison farms or necrocycling.[SUP]8[/SUP]</p><p></p><p>Case Nine and Dirk were released from the handcuffs and the police sergeant mounted his steed. His voice flat from the modulation of his helm, he asked, "Where is the proprietor of this shop?" Dirk rubbed his wrists and shrugged, "He keeps odd hours...Wait, here he comes." From around the corner at the end of the street, came the locksmith Theldrat Meldrop. He was a large man with pale skin and a great mustache of which he was particularly proud. And this morning, he did not look well, staggering and obviously hung-over. The police sergeant's voice was suddenly huge, "Meldrop. I wish to speak with you." At the sound of his name, Theldrat looked up in surprise, his eyes growing wide as he saw the police, the rogue, and the robot. He lurched forward and half-ran down the street. When he saw the condition of his shop, both his hands went to his head, pulling on his hair and he gave a groan.</p><p></p><p>The events of the morning were relayed to the locksmith, who grew paler with every word. At the end, he managed to croak out a single question in a small voice, "Do you know what they got away with?" The sergeant made a negative sign and instructed him on the procedures for reporting what had been stolen, once he had time to sort it out. And with that, the police departed and Meldrop darted into his shop once they were out of view. He began to ransack the place, babbling to himself. Case Nine and Dirk exchanged a look and they both entered the shop, the robot retrieving their weapons and the rogue speaking to the locksmith, "Theldrat, what are you looking for?" The locksmith turned in surprise, a look of total despair on his face and tears rolling freely down his fat cheeks. "They took it ... my father's key! ... It was a ... family heirloom!" He described the jeweled key in loving detail, only pausing to wipe his nose on the back of his sleeve.</p><p></p><p>Dirk listened patiently and then explained that he had questioned one of the thugs before the cops showed up. The rogue then smirked, "I think we already have a lead." Theldrat sprung to his feet with surprising speed and put his meaty hands on Dirk's shoulders, "You do? Then you must find it for me! I will pay anything!" Dirk looked over to Case Nine, who nodded, and said, "We will take the case. Should be an easy job."</p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>Notes:</strong></p><p></p><p>[SUP]1[/SUP] Cibola is a pseudo-city-state to the distant west. Technically part of the Western Kingdoms that lie along the western coast of the Continent, it is a wealthy desert city rumored to be controlled by demons. The city is widely known for its many bars, gambling dens and brothels. It is said that no vice is too dark or vile to be satisfied by the city.</p><p>[SUP]2[/SUP] Birds is a common slang term for kenku in Asheril.</p><p>[SUP]3[/SUP] Barge End is a small, dangerous dock district in the city.</p><p>[SUP]4[/SUP] Breakers are specially bred and indoctrinated ogres. They are used by the Asheril police for destroying heavily armored targets or gaining entry into reinforced structures or vehicles. When in the field, all Breakers wear heavy armor (usually full-plate) and are armed with a massive greathammer. As the climate of Asheril is far too hot to practically wear this degree of armor routinely, all Breakers are protected by an <a href="http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/endureElements.htm" target="_blank">endure elements</a> spell when deployed.</p><p>[SUP]5[/SUP] Scanners is slang for low-level spellcasters among the police force who routinely make use of <a href="http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/detectMagic.htm" target="_blank">detect magic</a> to scan for spell use or magic items among the general populace. Faint auras are usually ignored, but stronger auras may draw the attention of the force.</p><p>[SUP]6[/SUP] Sniffers is slang for <a href="http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/worg.htm" target="_blank">worgs</a> that are in the employ of the police. These wolf-like creatures have adapted well to the urban environment and use their exquisite sense of smell to track down suspects and find hidden caches of alchemics and drugs. Worgs are notorious fickle, ill-tempered and self-serving. They are almost impossible to bribe, making them greatly feared.</p><p>[SUP]7[/SUP] The Cetus is a large van-like vehicle used primary for personnel transport.</p><p>[SUP]8[/SUP] For criminals for which the city can not find a use for or are too feeble, the most common fate is execution and delivery to the Department of Necromantic Affairs for eventual reanimation. This process is called necrocycling.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Pell-Mell, post: 4067883, member: 50273"] [B]CASE FILE 002: THE CASE OF THE STOLEN KEY[/B] [I]Session 8, Part 1: ...And All This Before Breakfast[/I] The street was already hot and the ancient sun was barely over the horizon, rays of golden-red light lancing through humid, smog-laden air. Dirk sat in the shadows near the second floor window of the offices of Case and Nine Investigations, his presence betrayed only by the glowing ember of his cigarette. The rogue watched the scene on the street below with detached interest. Across the way, Meldrop's Lock and Key, a locksmith shop, was being looted by a gang of filthy men, each holding a length of broken pipe or makeshift blade. He saw no gang signs or colors among them; they were probably unincorporated, the lowest order of scum. Dirk took another drag off his cigarette and looked up and down the lane. Where were the RazorFeathers? The gang of kenku that Dirk and Case Nine, as well as the other businesses on the street, paid for protection were nowhere to be seen. In fact, except for the punks, the street was deserted. Even Shambling Dan had vanished, some instinct in the rotten brain of the zombie still providing a vestige of self-preservation. The rogue sighed and crushed out his smoke in the ashtray by the window, the cigarette crumpling on the belly of the bare-breasted succubus on the bottom of the tray, the words "CIBOLA AWAITS!" over her horned head.[SUP]1[/SUP] Dirk got up and walked across the room, grabbing his leather jacket and taking his gun from the night table beside his disheveled bed. They would have to take care of it. If they didn't, the street would get a reputation as an easy target. The rogue made sure the gun was hidden beneath his jacket and hit the dimly lit panel of a box on the wall with the flat of his hand. The device crackled to life and Dirk whispered into it, "Case, we got some trouble up here. Meet me at the front door." The rogue looked back to the street and saw three more men emerge from the shadows of an alley and join their fellows in looting. "Bring your hammer." From his room in the basement, Case Nine responded, "Understood." The intercom went silent and the rogue grabbed his short sword before padding down the stairs into the first floor office. [CENTER]* * *[/CENTER] Case Nine was already at the door when Dirk came down, his greathammer in his hands, "I have seen the intruders through the window." The warforged continued, "Mere went to the temple of her god early this morning and Meepo went with her. They will not be able to join us." Dirk nodded, "Try not to kill any of the punks out there. More problems than it's worth." The robot agreed and seeing his friend was ready, the duo made their way to the street. Dirk had hoped that the sight of the massive Case Nine would send the looters running. Instead the ones on the outside gave a hoarse cry and several of the dregs inside the shop spilled out onto the sidewalk. Dirk stood to one side of the warforged, his blade out and ready, and called to the men, "Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy wa ..." They did not let the rogue finish, instead they swarmed forward with club and knife. The robot was ready for this and blocked the way between them and Dirk. Then the heavy hammer of Case Nine swung and bodies began to fly in all directions. "The hard way it is then.", Dirk muttered and ducked as a thug was sent soaring over him and careened into a nearby parked car. Knowing that the robot could handle the thugs on the outside, Dirk wove between a parked jalopy of indeterminate make and a late model Centaurus and made his way into Meldrop's shop. Passing by the door, he could see that it was still intact with no sign of forced entry. The inside of the shop was dark, but even in the gloom Dirk could see it was a disaster. The rogue flicked the light switch and a set of overhead fluorescents flickered on. A startled cry from the backroom of the shop drew Dirk's attention and the rogue darted toward it, his blade at the ready. Dirk nearly collided with a thug coming forward from the backroom, but the rogue rolled to one side, dropping his blade. He hit the ground and swept out with a savage kick, undercutting the punk and sending him sprawling. Before the dreg could recover, Dirk was up and on him, slamming him into the floor, "What are you doing here? You're not any gang I know." The thug spat in Dirk's face and struggled to free himself. The rogue clenched the throat of the looter with one hand and pulled out his gun with the other. Dirk shoved it into the temple of the man, whose eyes were now wide with terror and he went still. "Okay, let's try this again. What are you doing here?" "Irontusk said the door would be open. Said we could have anything in the shop and the birds would be gone."[SUP]2[/SUP] Dirk growled, "Who is Irontusk?" The man moaned, realizing he had given out more information than he intended, but Dirk drilled the barrel of the gun into the thug's head until he responded, "Indie. Gnoll. Works out of Barge End. Said he only needed one thing in here, the rest was ours."[SUP]3[/SUP] The rogue pondered for a second, "What did Irontusk want?" The man's eyes rolled in anguish, his voice rising in pitch, "How the hell should I know? C'mon man, the cops are going to be here soon!" Before Dirk could respond, Case Nine answered from the backroom doorway, "They have already arrived." Both Dirk and the thug cursed. [CENTER]* * *[/CENTER] The scene outside was bad. The street was littered with broken men, miraculously all of them still breathing, and the gutters ran red with spilt blood. No less than two squads of police had responded, their rifles out and trained on the front of the locksmith shop. Commanding them was their sergeant, who rode high upon a horse and whose face was hidden behind a featureless mask of brown alchemic resin attached to his helmet. Behind them, lumbering up the street, was a Breaker and its keeper.[SUP]4[/SUP] The sergeant called out, his voice amplified by sorcery or electronics, "Everyone out! You will not be asked twice." With the looter pushed out first by Case Nine, Dirk and the warforged exited the shop with their hands up and empty. Dirk glanced down the street and saw the Breaker, which by now, was up to the line of cops. Somebody must have called in their was a robot involved. No Scanners or Sniffers, though.[SUP]5,6[/SUP] At least there was that. The duo and the looter were commanded to their knees, handcuffed, and roughly searched. The police found no weapons on any of them, for they had dropped their melee weapons inside the store and Dirk had hastily hidden his pistol when Case Nine dragged the thug out to face the authorities. Without a Sniffer, the rogue was confident that it would not be found. As Dirk was frisked, he told the cop that the ownership papers for Case Nine and licenses for their sword and greathammer were in his wallet. These were shown to the police sergeant, who by this time had dismounted, and briefly examined them before waving them away. A squad of the police entered the locksmith's shop and quickly determined it was empty, sounding an all-clear. The police interrogation was brief. Dirk succinctly explained what had happened and the looter, knowing he was doomed, tried to drag the rogue down with him. He told the sergeant about Dirk's pistol, as private ownership of guns is illegal in the city, but the cop had heard enough and cut the thug off. The sergeant turned to one side and made a clicking sound. Then he was quietly talking to someone else, his helmet transmitting his message to elsewhere in the city. In short order, a black Cetus marked with the insignia of the police rolled up the still quiet street.[SUP]7[/SUP] Dour-faced men in simple dark uniforms disembarked and swung the rear doors open, unceremoniously loading the wounded thugs into the cavernous interior. The last thug was marched into the truck at gun point, the doors secured, and the Cetus rumbled off, its contents bound for the prison farms or necrocycling.[SUP]8[/SUP] Case Nine and Dirk were released from the handcuffs and the police sergeant mounted his steed. His voice flat from the modulation of his helm, he asked, "Where is the proprietor of this shop?" Dirk rubbed his wrists and shrugged, "He keeps odd hours...Wait, here he comes." From around the corner at the end of the street, came the locksmith Theldrat Meldrop. He was a large man with pale skin and a great mustache of which he was particularly proud. And this morning, he did not look well, staggering and obviously hung-over. The police sergeant's voice was suddenly huge, "Meldrop. I wish to speak with you." At the sound of his name, Theldrat looked up in surprise, his eyes growing wide as he saw the police, the rogue, and the robot. He lurched forward and half-ran down the street. When he saw the condition of his shop, both his hands went to his head, pulling on his hair and he gave a groan. The events of the morning were relayed to the locksmith, who grew paler with every word. At the end, he managed to croak out a single question in a small voice, "Do you know what they got away with?" The sergeant made a negative sign and instructed him on the procedures for reporting what had been stolen, once he had time to sort it out. And with that, the police departed and Meldrop darted into his shop once they were out of view. He began to ransack the place, babbling to himself. Case Nine and Dirk exchanged a look and they both entered the shop, the robot retrieving their weapons and the rogue speaking to the locksmith, "Theldrat, what are you looking for?" The locksmith turned in surprise, a look of total despair on his face and tears rolling freely down his fat cheeks. "They took it ... my father's key! ... It was a ... family heirloom!" He described the jeweled key in loving detail, only pausing to wipe his nose on the back of his sleeve. Dirk listened patiently and then explained that he had questioned one of the thugs before the cops showed up. The rogue then smirked, "I think we already have a lead." Theldrat sprung to his feet with surprising speed and put his meaty hands on Dirk's shoulders, "You do? Then you must find it for me! I will pay anything!" Dirk looked over to Case Nine, who nodded, and said, "We will take the case. Should be an easy job." [B]Notes:[/B] [SUP]1[/SUP] Cibola is a pseudo-city-state to the distant west. Technically part of the Western Kingdoms that lie along the western coast of the Continent, it is a wealthy desert city rumored to be controlled by demons. The city is widely known for its many bars, gambling dens and brothels. It is said that no vice is too dark or vile to be satisfied by the city. [SUP]2[/SUP] Birds is a common slang term for kenku in Asheril. [SUP]3[/SUP] Barge End is a small, dangerous dock district in the city. [SUP]4[/SUP] Breakers are specially bred and indoctrinated ogres. They are used by the Asheril police for destroying heavily armored targets or gaining entry into reinforced structures or vehicles. When in the field, all Breakers wear heavy armor (usually full-plate) and are armed with a massive greathammer. As the climate of Asheril is far too hot to practically wear this degree of armor routinely, all Breakers are protected by an [URL=http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/endureElements.htm]endure elements[/URL] spell when deployed. [SUP]5[/SUP] Scanners is slang for low-level spellcasters among the police force who routinely make use of [URL=http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/detectMagic.htm]detect magic[/URL] to scan for spell use or magic items among the general populace. Faint auras are usually ignored, but stronger auras may draw the attention of the force. [SUP]6[/SUP] Sniffers is slang for [URL=http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/worg.htm]worgs[/URL] that are in the employ of the police. These wolf-like creatures have adapted well to the urban environment and use their exquisite sense of smell to track down suspects and find hidden caches of alchemics and drugs. Worgs are notorious fickle, ill-tempered and self-serving. They are almost impossible to bribe, making them greatly feared. [SUP]7[/SUP] The Cetus is a large van-like vehicle used primary for personnel transport. [SUP]8[/SUP] For criminals for which the city can not find a use for or are too feeble, the most common fate is execution and delivery to the Department of Necromantic Affairs for eventual reanimation. This process is called necrocycling. [/QUOTE]
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