Hello everyone! Now, those of you familiar with my other works need not be dismayed, this Quest...
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Detectives and Dragons [MOVED TO NSFW, see my latest post for details]
- Thread starter Lucky-38
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Intro
Lucky-38
On the house.
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2015
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Hello everyone! Now, those of you familiar with my other works need not be dismayed, this Quest shouldn't be too long! I just wanted to try my hand doing a little mystery, the questing equivalent of a short story. Basically, you will be doing detective work in a D&D-esque fantasy setting. Just a little idea that I thought would be fun to try out, to help get myself back in the groove for managing quests.
The basics: You are Hawthorne, a Watchman, sort of a combination of a detective and a sheriff, stationed in a sleepy town called Findarel, a primarily human settlement with a few other races scattered here and there. You don't know magic, though you're fairly handy with a spear. You also have a nice hat.
The town government is separate from your chain of command. There's a mayor, a city council, a dozen clerical positions, and all of the servants and underlings to be expected. You have reason to suspect at least one of them is up to wrongdoing, and it's up to you to flush out which one.
Also, in sharp contrast to my usual quests, votes will almost entirely be done by write-ins!
-----
You rest your legs on the table next to yours as you flip through the local property records. You weren't sure why the town's Watchtower had two desks, since there was only one Watchman, but you weren't going to complain if it meant keeping your new footrest.
Besides, you had more important things to worry about. Things like how the records were listing empty, abandoned houses as being owned by nonexistent individuals.
The yellowed parchment rasped against itself as you flipped the pages, holding them up to the candlelight to make sure that you could read the sloppy ink letters. Right there, you see the one you're looking for. The lot number for the house next to the blacksmith. You know for damned certain that there hasn't been a soul in that house for years, but the records say it was the home of a merchant named Aren Dhale.
Hmph. Name didn't even sound right.
Clearly, something was going on here. The records were kept by the town's local administration, and they were the only ones that were supposed to be able to alter them. As a Watchman, you stood apart from the locals, taking your orders from a chain of command that extended up to the royal court itself. This wouldn't be the first time you'd had to root out corruption and deceit by some small-town government that thought they could remain hidden.
Right now, Findarel was a sleepy little town, small enough that a single Watchman could just barely keep track of it all. However, the King had ordered the construction of a great stone road spanning from border to border, and in a few year's time Findarel would likely be in an excellent position to take advantage of increased trade and travel.
The situation was obvious to you. Somebody, perhaps several people, thought that they could get their hands on property that would make them rich once the roads were done, all without paying a thing. However, that still left a very important question.
Who was behind all of this?
-----
The next morning, you made the walk from your quarters to the town hall. The streets weren't too busy, but there was still a good amount of stuff happening. Farmers were bringing produce in to be sold, businesses were beginning to open up, and people were heading this way and that. Outside the tavern you managed to catch the eye of your favorite barmaid, Alissa, giving a nod and getting a smile and wink in return. Less pleasantly, you ran across Berle the begger. He claimed to be deaf, or at least that was his excuse as to why he never heard anyone when they said 'no'.
Fending him off, you continued onward, continuing to be courteous and exchanging greetings with the few people you recognized from nights at the tavern. Thimet the dwarven barber was handing his blades over to Rhine the elvish blacksmith to be sharpened, and Keyn the lamplighter was putting out the torches now that dawn had arrived.
Just past the smithy was one of the abandoned houses, and you frowned at it as you walked by. Nothing was out of the ordinary, it was just a house, but you knew that it was the symbol of wrongdoing that had happened under your very nose.
Finally, your trek across town ended with you in front of Findarel's administration building. You could see the mayor's clerk in the main hall, his quill scribbling against some sheets of parchment.
Now that you were here, though, you began to wonder if you shouldn't do some investigating elsewhere. There's no telling how many of the town's officials were in on this, after all.
[ ] Write in: What do you do first?
The basics: You are Hawthorne, a Watchman, sort of a combination of a detective and a sheriff, stationed in a sleepy town called Findarel, a primarily human settlement with a few other races scattered here and there. You don't know magic, though you're fairly handy with a spear. You also have a nice hat.
The town government is separate from your chain of command. There's a mayor, a city council, a dozen clerical positions, and all of the servants and underlings to be expected. You have reason to suspect at least one of them is up to wrongdoing, and it's up to you to flush out which one.
Also, in sharp contrast to my usual quests, votes will almost entirely be done by write-ins!
-----
You rest your legs on the table next to yours as you flip through the local property records. You weren't sure why the town's Watchtower had two desks, since there was only one Watchman, but you weren't going to complain if it meant keeping your new footrest.
Besides, you had more important things to worry about. Things like how the records were listing empty, abandoned houses as being owned by nonexistent individuals.
The yellowed parchment rasped against itself as you flipped the pages, holding them up to the candlelight to make sure that you could read the sloppy ink letters. Right there, you see the one you're looking for. The lot number for the house next to the blacksmith. You know for damned certain that there hasn't been a soul in that house for years, but the records say it was the home of a merchant named Aren Dhale.
Hmph. Name didn't even sound right.
Clearly, something was going on here. The records were kept by the town's local administration, and they were the only ones that were supposed to be able to alter them. As a Watchman, you stood apart from the locals, taking your orders from a chain of command that extended up to the royal court itself. This wouldn't be the first time you'd had to root out corruption and deceit by some small-town government that thought they could remain hidden.
Right now, Findarel was a sleepy little town, small enough that a single Watchman could just barely keep track of it all. However, the King had ordered the construction of a great stone road spanning from border to border, and in a few year's time Findarel would likely be in an excellent position to take advantage of increased trade and travel.
The situation was obvious to you. Somebody, perhaps several people, thought that they could get their hands on property that would make them rich once the roads were done, all without paying a thing. However, that still left a very important question.
Who was behind all of this?
-----
The next morning, you made the walk from your quarters to the town hall. The streets weren't too busy, but there was still a good amount of stuff happening. Farmers were bringing produce in to be sold, businesses were beginning to open up, and people were heading this way and that. Outside the tavern you managed to catch the eye of your favorite barmaid, Alissa, giving a nod and getting a smile and wink in return. Less pleasantly, you ran across Berle the begger. He claimed to be deaf, or at least that was his excuse as to why he never heard anyone when they said 'no'.
Fending him off, you continued onward, continuing to be courteous and exchanging greetings with the few people you recognized from nights at the tavern. Thimet the dwarven barber was handing his blades over to Rhine the elvish blacksmith to be sharpened, and Keyn the lamplighter was putting out the torches now that dawn had arrived.
Just past the smithy was one of the abandoned houses, and you frowned at it as you walked by. Nothing was out of the ordinary, it was just a house, but you knew that it was the symbol of wrongdoing that had happened under your very nose.
Finally, your trek across town ended with you in front of Findarel's administration building. You could see the mayor's clerk in the main hall, his quill scribbling against some sheets of parchment.
Now that you were here, though, you began to wonder if you shouldn't do some investigating elsewhere. There's no telling how many of the town's officials were in on this, after all.
[ ] Write in: What do you do first?
Last edited:
Lucky-38
On the house.
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2015
- Messages
- 5,772
- Likes received
- 55,337
Well, I'd hoped to get more people in before I got started, but since I do want to keep this quest moving at a good pace I think I'll just go ahead and start updating.
-----
Hmm. There really is no telling how far the corruption spreads inside of the administration, any attempt to talk to a clerk or official might just give them time to hide the evidence. Instead, you think you'll start with more traditional evidence gathering. And of course, the best place to keep your ear to the ground in a town like this was to head over to the local tavern.
Besides, you hadn't had breakfast yet, and Alissa had the best bacon this side of the kingdom.
It was a quick walk back. You fended off Berle, exchanged respectful nods with Rhine, Keyn, and Thimet, and stepped around a hissing alley cat.
The tavern owner's old retired hunting dog was asleep just outside the threshold of the building, his snoozing bulk keeping the door propped open. You gave old Dawgogh a pat as you walked by, and heard his big tail thump once against the floor behind you.
Alissa came over as you took a seat, the red-headed elf already carrying a plate of breakfast for you. "Morning, Hawthorne."
"Good morning to you as well, 'Lissa. Always a pleasure." Alissa was one of the first people you'd gotten to know after moving to Findarel. In your experience, it always paid to be friendly with the people working at the local tavern and inn, and the female wood elf was more of a pleasure to get to know than most. These days, the actual owner of the tavern almost never stopped in for work, so she ended up more or less in charge.
She waves at one of the other barmaids to take over before sliding into the chair across from you. "I know that look. You're here on business, aren't you?"
You finish off a piece of bacon. "'Fraid so. You hear anything interesting about those empty houses around town?"
Alissa's expression twists in distaste. "Oh, those awful things. No, can't say I have, other than nobody really seems to like having them around, myself included. I wish they'd either be torn down or something already, you just know that having houses sitting empty for so long is going to make them breeding grounds for all sorts of nasty vermin."
You shrug. "Stepped over an alley cat on the way here. If you hurry outside, you might be able to catch yourself a ratter."
"Hah. Anyway, I'm glad you're taking an interest, goodness knows it's not like the mayor will suddenly do anything after they've been around for so long. With any luck, you'll find an excuse to burn them all to the ground."
"If I do, you'll be the first to know."
"Here's hoping." Alissa's attention is suddenly drawn by a group of people walking in, travelers by the looks of their clothes. "Anyway, I need to get back to work. Feel free to stop by any time."
You assure her that you'll keep it in mind, before tucking into what's left of your breakfast.
-----
Next stop was the blacksmith. You were on pretty good terms with Rhine as well, since he was the one who would be looking after your spear and armor if they ever got damaged. You'd also bought a dagger from him when you moved in, for day to day things. It hadn't dulled yet, and was still sitting comfortably in your belt.
Thimet was long gone by now, and Rhine was just sitting on his anvil reading a book. He looked up and waved when he saw you approaching. "Hullo there, Watchman! Anything I can do for you?"
You nod at the empty house next door. "Just got a few questions about who owns that building."
At the mention of the house, Rhine's expression sours. "Nobody owns it, not since old Jernin Mayne died going on a decade ago. Never had a family, so it's just been sitting there empty."
"And the city hasn't sold it?"
Rhine shrugged. "Guess not. Or else they haven't been able to find a buyer. That would be a surprise, though, Findarel is a nice town, especially with that road coming by in a few years."
Hmm. "Have you seen anyone entering or leaving?"
Rhine shrugs again. "I've no idea, sorry. I'm often busy, and when I'm working on my forge you could sneak a dragon right by my face and I wouldn't even notice. Though, I will say that I'd put gold on there being something wrong with that place. Gives me the willies."
You thank Rhine for his help, and walk away.
Well, now what?
[] Write In.
-----
Hmm. There really is no telling how far the corruption spreads inside of the administration, any attempt to talk to a clerk or official might just give them time to hide the evidence. Instead, you think you'll start with more traditional evidence gathering. And of course, the best place to keep your ear to the ground in a town like this was to head over to the local tavern.
Besides, you hadn't had breakfast yet, and Alissa had the best bacon this side of the kingdom.
It was a quick walk back. You fended off Berle, exchanged respectful nods with Rhine, Keyn, and Thimet, and stepped around a hissing alley cat.
The tavern owner's old retired hunting dog was asleep just outside the threshold of the building, his snoozing bulk keeping the door propped open. You gave old Dawgogh a pat as you walked by, and heard his big tail thump once against the floor behind you.
Alissa came over as you took a seat, the red-headed elf already carrying a plate of breakfast for you. "Morning, Hawthorne."
"Good morning to you as well, 'Lissa. Always a pleasure." Alissa was one of the first people you'd gotten to know after moving to Findarel. In your experience, it always paid to be friendly with the people working at the local tavern and inn, and the female wood elf was more of a pleasure to get to know than most. These days, the actual owner of the tavern almost never stopped in for work, so she ended up more or less in charge.
She waves at one of the other barmaids to take over before sliding into the chair across from you. "I know that look. You're here on business, aren't you?"
You finish off a piece of bacon. "'Fraid so. You hear anything interesting about those empty houses around town?"
Alissa's expression twists in distaste. "Oh, those awful things. No, can't say I have, other than nobody really seems to like having them around, myself included. I wish they'd either be torn down or something already, you just know that having houses sitting empty for so long is going to make them breeding grounds for all sorts of nasty vermin."
You shrug. "Stepped over an alley cat on the way here. If you hurry outside, you might be able to catch yourself a ratter."
"Hah. Anyway, I'm glad you're taking an interest, goodness knows it's not like the mayor will suddenly do anything after they've been around for so long. With any luck, you'll find an excuse to burn them all to the ground."
"If I do, you'll be the first to know."
"Here's hoping." Alissa's attention is suddenly drawn by a group of people walking in, travelers by the looks of their clothes. "Anyway, I need to get back to work. Feel free to stop by any time."
You assure her that you'll keep it in mind, before tucking into what's left of your breakfast.
-----
Next stop was the blacksmith. You were on pretty good terms with Rhine as well, since he was the one who would be looking after your spear and armor if they ever got damaged. You'd also bought a dagger from him when you moved in, for day to day things. It hadn't dulled yet, and was still sitting comfortably in your belt.
Thimet was long gone by now, and Rhine was just sitting on his anvil reading a book. He looked up and waved when he saw you approaching. "Hullo there, Watchman! Anything I can do for you?"
You nod at the empty house next door. "Just got a few questions about who owns that building."
At the mention of the house, Rhine's expression sours. "Nobody owns it, not since old Jernin Mayne died going on a decade ago. Never had a family, so it's just been sitting there empty."
"And the city hasn't sold it?"
Rhine shrugged. "Guess not. Or else they haven't been able to find a buyer. That would be a surprise, though, Findarel is a nice town, especially with that road coming by in a few years."
Hmm. "Have you seen anyone entering or leaving?"
Rhine shrugs again. "I've no idea, sorry. I'm often busy, and when I'm working on my forge you could sneak a dragon right by my face and I wouldn't even notice. Though, I will say that I'd put gold on there being something wrong with that place. Gives me the willies."
You thank Rhine for his help, and walk away.
Well, now what?
[] Write In.