The Pen and The Wind

There comes a point in every professional thief/adventurer/downright handsome devil’s life when they have to consider if doing things just for the sake of alcohol is really worth it. Well for me, it is. Women, alcohol, and gold are always worth it, you should never think otherwise, or that’s at least how I used to think. After all, growing up with my life, I had to be ruthless in order to survive. When life forces you to make yourself an orphan by stabbing your father through the heart, that sets the mood that things are going to be rough, and I had to be rough in order to survive. So for years, I operated for only bettering myself, and became one of the most famous and dare I say ravishing rogues in all the nine kingdoms.  But, there is one time I learned that charity can sometimes be warranted.

 When I found myself myself sneaking into the High King’s own dungeon, just to get paid enough to cover my rather… substantial bar tab was the first thing that made me begin this little credo of selfishness. I was hired by a rich gentleman to break his brother out of there. Seems he was a unruly drunk and made the mistake of vomiting on a Duke of some sort at a party. He was doomed to a harsh life sentence, and it was common knowledge only the best could infiltrate the Royal Castle, so that’s why they hired Tavion Stormscribe.

            Infiltration of the Castle was no problem at all; I’m the only reason the goldsmiths are still in business from all the royal treasures that I pilfer here. No, the difficult part would be sneaking a man out, and the only way to do this without having every guard at my throat was to sneak him through the sewers. Thankfully, the main castle sewer had an access opening as an escape tunnel of sorts, in a room connecting to the dungeon. Poor planning on their part, but it makes my job easier.

I crept from the tunnel’s opening to the dungeon door, opening it slow enough to not rouse any notice from potential guards. A quick look around revealed that all was quiet. How I do love terrible security. I walked up to the lone prisoner, and gained his attention.

“Who are you?” he asked, confused to not see a jailor or guard.

“Never you mind, I’ve been paid by your brother to help you escape,” I whispered.

“Oh bless you sir,” he blurted with excitement, prompting me to curtly shush him.

The locks on his cell were a little more difficult than expected, but a good thief always carries quality lockpicks, and I am the best. Still, it was going to take a little effort to get the damned door open, so I set to work trying to open it with fervor. All the while he just kept blubbering on about how he’d never drink again, and how he just wanted to get back to his kids; distracting me while I fiddled with the lock. Out in the hallway opposite of where I entered, I began to hear voices. “Shit,” I said out loud while increasing my speed. The jailed man heard me and silenced. I was desperate to get him out of there and get myself clear and paid just as well, and as the voices drew closer, I began to panic a little. Hands working faster than I have ever managed before, the lock popped open and the cell door slowly swung free. But our joy was short lived, as on the opposite side of the room the door flung open, and a rather beautiful woman in ornate dress and jewelry appeared. She stormed into the room, muttering something about seeing the fool who humiliated her husband. That’s when she noticed me and exclaimed, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Well, I could say the same of you,” I said, trying to think of some way out of this.

“I’m here to see the fool who humiliated my oaf of a husband, as if he needed help in doing so,” she remarked, easy to see she held more disdain for her husband than the imprisoned man.

Beautiful, rich lady in an unhappy marriage, some god or goddess has taken a shine to me, I thought. “You sound rather unhappy more toward your husband,” I said, beginning to turn on the charm.

“I suppose it’s not that difficult to tell, is it?” she remarked,  her tension easing and allowing her icy tone to thaw.

“Such a shame, someone as beautiful and charming as you, you don’t deserve that kind of unhappiness.”

“Well yes, I do, don’t I?”

“You deserve the kind of happiness that… satisfies you completely, tends to your… every need,” I said, taking a step forward.

She blushed when she understood my meaning, “Oh my… I suppose that would be nice.”

“And you deserve a man to bring you that kind of happiness,” I said, taking her hand in mine.

She blushed when her mind began to wander through all the things I was implying. She stayed in a dreamy haze of the intoxicating fantasy before shaking her head and saying, “I shouldn’t be thinking of such things… I am a married woman after all.” Her tone sounded as if she was doing her best to convince herself rather than me.

“And yet you’re drawing closer,” I said, with a sly smile. It was true, she was pulling closer, and it was time for the finisher. I pulled her tight, our faces mere inches from each other, I could feel her breath becoming shallower and hotter. Any hesitation she had soon faded, and she pulled me forward to meet her lips. While the Duchess was significantly distracted, I gestured to the man in the cell to sneak into the room with the escape tunnel. She was too lost in passion to notice his sneaking off. I am pretty good at this sort of thing, and it wasn’t like I exactly hated this either. I let him make his escape while I enjoyed myself. I only have to dash off when the jailor began to return.

I returned to the tavern where we had agreed to meet. The brothers were overjoyed to be reunited, but their celebration was cut short, and the elder, my client said, “Quick brother, we must flee. The guards will be searching for you now.”

“But what of Aria and Geoffry? I won’t leave without my children!”

“They’re safe brother, we cannot travel with our entire families.”

“But I must! To leave them is just as worse a fate than leaving in that dungeon.”

“Brother we cannot afford to do so. I have spent most of our money preparing for our exodus, and the rest shall pay this man for your safe return. We have nothing left.”

The younger brother looked devastated, thinking about the family he’d have to abandon. I thought about two kids, growing up without a father and having to do everything necessary to survive, just like I did. That’s a fate no kid deserves. “Forget my money, use it to take your families with you,” I declared.

Both men looked shocked, “What?”

“You heard me. I suggest you take me up on it and flee, before either the guards come or I change my mind,” I said with a wry smile.

Both still shocked, looked overjoyed and quickly fled, shouting their profuse thanks into the cool night air. The tavern owner had witnessed it all, and remarked to me, “Well that was awfully charitable of you.”

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” I said, even a little surprised at myself.

“You’re still cut off though, too large a tab even for charity.”

“Oh I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” I said placing gold ring inlaid with many large jewels.

“What is this?”

“The Duchess’ wedding ring.”

“She’ll go looking for it you know, and don’t expect any sympathy from me,” he said raising an eyebrow at me.

“Oh I don’t think she’ll really look for it, or need it seeing as she has invited me to her estate for a ‘private’ audience.”

“You have absolutely no shame, you know that?”

I gave a big smile, “I might have some somewhere… I just find this a particular accomplishment, on quite a few fronts.”

The fate of humanity was dismal. 

An ever increasing world populace meant there were significantly less and less resources to go around. All forms of population control were heavily debated and eventually shot down by the mass religious complexes of the world. Population grew and grew, but without a predator to thin the herd, humanity seemed doomed to starvation and overcrowding.

It wasn’t just the population that was a problem though, mass production and consumerism ran through nonrenewable resources such as petroleum and metals at an ever increasing rate. There was always demand, but continually dwindling supplies, so the prices skyrocketed. People often went without food and other needs to have these produced goods, which became needs of their own in this mass produced culture. All of these would run out soon enough, and we would have nothing. Our dependency on these things would leave us with no time to develop alternatives, and we would be long dead before a solution could be developed. 

In light of this, Dr. Louis Retton dedicated decades of his life to producing a solution to this daunting problem. It was on  July 22, 2042, that he met with all the world’s leaders to discuss what would be known as Project Permanence. 

Dr. Retton’s team of experimental physicists had developed something that humanity had only seen in movies and stories, a device capable of reducing the size of physical objects. It was the key to Project Permanence. He presented his case to the world leaders, a plan to reduce the world’s populace to 1/100,000th of it’s size, and relocate them to a scale city-state built to house them. Their reduced size would turn sparsity into plenty, and would leave the educated populace indefinite time to produce the solutions to the world’s problems. The only ones left unshrinken would be a small collection of farmers to produce the micro-world’s food supply, and a small unified military force to protect the micro-world. It took days of argument, but eventually, the plan was enacted. 

And so, over the course of several years, every human settlement was shrunken and placed in a secure bunker in the center of the United States. It all seemed to work perfectly, once a week the farmers and workers would deliver shipments to the soldiers and micro-nation, an apple alone could feed the entire condensed planet, and the reduced populace and resource consumption let everyone live a life of comfort and plenty. 

It was during one of these shipments, when a soldier was delivering the portions of food and materials to the micro-nation, that a fly slipped in past the closing door. The soldier didn’t notice it until he placed the shipment onto the receiving pad, and out of the corner of his eye spotted the fly walking about on the top of the dome. In a reflex long trained into his psyche, he leaned over and slapped at the fly. He missed, as we all do, but he also lost his balance, and went toppling forward. His body landed on the domed world, and unable to sustain his weight, it came collapsing down. His body alone destroyed 70% of the mini world, the falling glass did away with the rest. 

The world was now left with a small population of farmers, and a small population of soldiers. Just a little over 100 human beings total. But it turned out that the problems that plagued the world were not an issue for the survivors. The root of the problem had been removed. But, now there were just over 100 humans left, with no civilization and limited technology left. Without them ruining the environment, the predatory animal’s population skyrocketed, and for the first time ever, humanity’s population was kept in check. We lost our position at the top of the food chain, because we proved we didn’t deserve it. 

Tavion glared at the sign that made no sense, trying to deduce which path would lead him to his pay the fastest. He thought to himself “Signs are supposed to be helpful,” yet these provided no direction at all. They only pointed down two paths, with two phrases carved down each arrow, “Where there are owls,” and “Where there are no owls.”

“Which way should we go?” The voice behind him asked.

He turned and glared at the robed twit asking the ceaseless annoying questions, “Shut up, this is your fault we’re stuck like this.”

“Well you’re the ‘world’s greatest thief, treasure hunter and adventurer,’ you should be able to handle this kind of thing!”

“Forgive me for not being able to navigate my way through a place called The Forrest of No Return!”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Tavion stared back at the owl sign, and couldn’t help but think how he got into this mess. He could have been drunk out of his mind right now, probably in the middle of a rather extraordinary evening with that one cute barmaid, or any other woman lucky enough to cross his path. Of course, that was kind of how he got into this mess.

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It was either the smell in the air or the cheap gin that made Alphonse feel like vomiting. Even though the intense waves of nausea broke over him like high tide, he did not move nor make any attempt to head to the bathroom, he had had enough cheap liquor before to know that the best thing right now was to sit still and let it pass. The musty smell of what can only be described as urine, vomit, shame, and despair didn’t help things out. The terrible country music being played over the radio was enough to make one gag, but Alphonse managed to suppress the urge by focusing on the never-ending supply of obscenities and pathos carved into the bar counter. This place, Jim’s Tavern, was so reminiscent of a cliché run down bar that one could feel like they were stepping into a noir film by just walking through the door.

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I woke with a bit of a start, to a dark room and my glasses digging into my nose. Obviously I had nodded off during reading. I must have been incredibly tired, for I didn’t remember laying my head down, and it was such a fascinating read. I sat up and rolled my head around to work out the rather nasty crick that had set in, and turned on my desk lamp. The light shone over the worn and musty pages, and I quickly wiped off a dot of drool I spotted on the page I was napping on.

I was amazed that I was even reading such a book, as it was so ancient. It was a large worn tome, bound in black leather, with letters etched on the front that spelled out, “The Black Bestiary.” It was incredibly old, used as an index and guide to all the supposed dangers and monsters of the world. I knew it was all myth, but I had always had an affinity for myth and monsters, and this book was giving me a great many more monsters that I had never heard about to do battle with in my sleep.

The current page I was on was different from the rest, there was no sketch of a grotesque beast, but rather of a sad looking beautiful woman. The entry of text to the side was entitled, “Venus Doppelganger.” Curious, I read on.

The Venus Doppelganger is different from the other beasts compiled here. It feeds not on flesh, but on the energy and emotions of man. It preys on those who have fallen in love with someone who does not love them. It takes on the form of the prey’s love, and in doing so takes on their memories. It then appears to the prey as the idealized form of their desire, what the prey has built them up to be in their mind instead of their true nature. The beast then professes it’s deep love for the prey, for in the back of it’s mind it truly does. The prey is usually so overjoyed that it does not question, and the two become one. The beast does not harm it’s prey but feeds of the energy of his love for it, and in return showers it’s prey with love and happiness. The only way to discover a Venus Doppelganger is to have the person who’s shape they have taken confront them. If this is done, the Doppelganger will revert to it’s original form, and run off. Little else is known about these creatures, as those who they have chosen for prey are happy, and don’t wish to lose that.

The thought of a monster preying on shunned love and loneliness was odd, as the rest in the book were creatures preying on man in various ways, it stood out from the rest. I couldn’t help but wonder what the Venus Doppelganger would look like to me. I’ve fallen in love so many times, every one of them not returned. “It’d probably just avoid me altogether due to the confusion,” I joked to myself. The waves of exhaustion that had snuck up on me earlier were beginning to make it’s second assault, so I retired to bed.

I woke up several hours later, to the sound of lightning cracking right outside my window. I was just about to relax and drift off to sleep, when I noticed something pressing down on my bed. I looked, and saw a strange woman standing over me. She was… stunning, with long, jet black hair, a dark complexion, a very ample bussom, with an incredibly toned body, and eyes that shone like diamonds, even in the dark. I didn’t know her from anywhere, and here she was standing over my bed. In the back of my mind, I thought I was going to die, but my less sensible parts reasoned that getting killed by such a beautiful woman wasn’t all that bad.

“I’m sorry, I probably scared you didn’t I?” She was stammering shyly, but her voice, so smooth and sweet, her every word I could swear I tasted caramel. “I’ve been watching you for a while, and I’ve just been too shy to say anything. I finally managed to get my courage up, and I guess I got a little carried away, didn’t I?” She gave a small laugh, gods that smile, so serene it could lull a city to a standstill. I was absolutely melting, and looking past her obvious insanity, rationalizing it as just shyness induced crazy, as I’ve been prone to come down with in my past. She came down from my bed, and sat down. We began talking, and it was just amazing. She was an avid reader, a bit of a nerd, frequently sang for pleasure, and wrote poetry and stories every day. I was falling for her, fast, when I saw out of the corner of my eye the large black tome.

Though I kept talking with her, in the back of my mind, I was beginning to notice things about her. Her face, it looked like someone I used to know, a girl I fell in love with, but other than the face, looked nothing her. But her long jet black hair that shimmered like onyx in the moonlight, strangely similar to another girl I used to love’s hair. It also didn’t register initially, but I could swear that I’ve heard her voice before, and recognized it as that choir singer I once fell head over heels for. Piece by piece, the illusion was starting to break. I joked about it steering clear of me, but the Venus Doppelganger still chose me, piecing together traits and memories, thoughts and feelings from all those unfortunate enough to win my favor, to form the ultimate temptation to me.

It was hard to keep playing along when I discovered her secret, but I did. In the back of my mind, I began thinking of a way to get away, to run, to hide. Nothing was coming to me though, but I sill kept frantically searching for one. One stray thought ground it all to a halt though, “Why run?” She was literally my perfect woman, why run away from her? Gods know I’m lonely, and though I know she’s not human, I can’t help but feel attraction rising up in me. I remember a passage from the book, “The beast then professes it’s deep love for the prey, for in the back of it’s mind it truly does.” She was a beast, a monster, but one who really did love me.

That was all about a year ago, I’m still with Morrigan (the name she chose for herself). There are times when I’m reminded she’s not human, and that she is literally feeding off my energy, but really I don’t mind. I’ve got plenty of energy to spare, and it’s infinitely better than being alone. She makes me happy, and makes every day a little brighter, she really does love me. I care a lot for her, hell, I might actually love her, it’s hard to tell. All I know is that a monster has her claim on me, and it makes me happy. I suppose, that’s all I can ask for.

Tavion glared at the sign that made no sense, trying to deduce which path would lead him to his pay the fastest. He thought to himself “Signs are supposed to be helpful,” yet these provided no direction at all. They only pointed down two paths, with two phrases carved down each arrow, “Where there are owls,” and “Where there are no owls.”

“Which way should we go?” The voice behind him asked.

He turned and glared at the robed twit asking the ceaseless annoying questions, “Shut up, this is your fault we’re stuck like this.”

“Well you’re the ‘world’s greatest thief, treasure hunter and adventurer,’ you should be able to handle this kind of thing!”

“Forgive me for not being able to navigate my way through a place called The Forrest of No Return!”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Tavion stared back at the owl sign, and couldn’t help but think how he got into this mess. He could have been drunk out of his mind right now, probably in the middle of a rather extraordinary evening with that one cute barmaid, or any other woman lucky enough to cross his path. Of course, that was kind of how he got into this mess.

He was on his third bit of rum in Crookshank’s Tavern, the closest place he had to a home, when the twit walked in. He wore a set of semi-ornate robes and had large staff that appeared jeweled, but from Tavion’s experience with all things shiny and valuable, they were worthless glass. Such was the appearance of someone in the Royal Academy, which meant he was either a pompous ass, or a naive sucker. Judging from his slouched appearance and complete lack of confidence, he was the later. Tavion took another swig of his rum, eying him from his usual booth at the back corner of the lowlife bar that was his home, people like him only came into Crookshank’s to hire thugs or to hire Tavion. The little robed man looked around nervously as he made his way back to the bar. This was more often than not the standard reaction to Crookshank’s, as the walls were mounted with various rusty and quite frightening looking weaponry, as well as the mounted heads of hundreds of various creatures and monsters, all arranged to look like they were currently snarling at anyone who walked by them. Also, it always seemed to have a musty decaying scent, as if it was built over a large pile the undead (which would explain those odd scratching and clawing sounds one often heard coming from the floorboards). The other patrons were off putting too, as everyone except that rather handsome gent in the back sipping rum looked as though one had taken a pile of beast parts, stitched them together in a vaguely humanoid form, shaved them with a broken bottle, and dressed them in garments so dirty even a beggar would refuse to wear them. Ugly brutes are a common sight in a tavern, but Crookshank’s patrons took the cake. Tavion often wondered how the owner convinced the barmaids to work here, but his focus was now on the out of place little man.

The scared robed man made his way to Tavion’s booth, with a voice meek and quaking, “I-I’m looking f-f-for a thief.”

“I’m looking for a barmaid I have yet to seduce, but I’d have to ride to Ispost to do that.” He turned and looked the scared little man. “Why do you need a thief?”

The robed man began to stammer, but before he could say anything Tavion held out the bottle, “Here, your nervousness is annoying me, take a drink and settle down.”

Tavion learned a lot in his rum filled haze. He learned that the robed man was a total lightweight for one, as it only took one drink to get him clumsily slurring words. He also learned that his name was Rafquel, and he was a Cleric at the Royal Academy. He had been working there for several years, and the higher ups were about to discover a dirty little secret of his. A few years back a certain sacred item important to the well being of the entire kingdom went missing from his watch, and rather than reporting it and being executed, he replaced it with a cheap but remarkable lookalike. In a week’s time there was going to be a very important royal ceremony, and his mistake and cover up would be discovered. He also learned that the person who took it was some sort of dark wizard, and took it to do… dark wizard stuff. He was two thirds his way down the bottle by then, details were a little fuzzy. What it all boiled down to, he figured, was that Rafquel needed to get it back, and was here to hire someone to do it because he had little to skill of any sort of his own, and that he intended Tavion to be that person.

“Alright, I suppose I’m interested. Where is the target?”

“Well, it took me a while, but I heard that he has a hideout within the Forest of No Return.”

Tavion paused a moment and thought it over, “Wait a minute, if it’s a forest of no return, then how would anyone know whats in it?”

That stumped Rafquel, and responded, “I’m not quite sure, but I spoke with a diviner and he said that it is definitely in the center of the forest.”

“And another thing, if it’s a Forest of No Return, how do you expect me to return deliver the package?”

“I’m sure it’s just a name.”
“That’s what John said after about three pints. No one ever saw him again.”

“Are you up to the task or not?”

Tavion paused for dramatic effect, always drove the point home when he did that, “Rafquel my lad, I am the world’s greatest thief, treasure hunter, and adventurer. I once got trapped by a lich, and stole the orb that held it’s very soul. There is no task I’m not up to. That said, I’m not going to do it.”

“What?! Why not?!”

“Because I don’t care about your problems and am pretty drunk? That good enough a reason?”

“But… I could die.”
“I… find myself not caring about your fate.”

Tavion then began to give him a look that said, “leave now, there is no swaying me.” The man looked as if a knife had been stabbed in the chest, the sheer shock of the world etched in his face, contemplating his own fleeting mortality, probably reminiscing over all those missed opportunities. He got up and left with that look still on his face, and Tavion took another swig of the rum, such emotion may have affected him in his younger days, but he was far too hardened, with a far too infamous a reputation to afford such acts of kindness.

He was just about to sit back and finally get to that full state of relaxation, and maybe pass out, when another figure approached his booth. This one far larger and more intimidating, wearing the pelt of a bear around his crotch, with a smell that could slay a griffin and carrying an axe that was quite possibly the size of a horse, but that might have been a trick of the rum. This very frightening figure was glaring at him, seething with rage, and it managed to grunt out, “Are you the son of a whorish rat who slept with my wife?”

Normally, a cunning ruse, or pretty much any deceit would be appropriate here, and normally would diffuse the trouble. However, Tavion was far too drunk for deceit, and despite his common sense screaming at him not to, he slurred this gem of a response, “that’s a very real possibility. What’s her name my good, smelly bear?”

He stared at Tavion with unblinking eyes, which Tavion could have swore were actually glowing with rage. That probably wasn’t a good sign. “Her name… is Sarasha.”

Tavion began to think, and the image of a red-headed blacksmith with a very large rack and a firm rump came to mind, and then the image of her without clothes laying out on her workbench came to mind. “Oh… her… well, I can safely that I didn’t not sleep with her, or her luscious rack. I would definitely say that-” he couldn’t finish his already incriminating sentence, as that axe of the bear of a gentleman was carrying was now lodged in the floor after splitting his table in half. The response of panic was enough to overtake the tides of rum he had ingested, and he fled with much haste. He made it out of the tavern and into the streets, with the thundering feet of that reeking gigas right behind him. He frantically searched around for a means of escape or a way to hide, but all the alleys boarded up due to the outbreak of rats (and to conceal the lepers and political protesters), and the street was completely barren of horses, save for the one Rafquel had just climbed upon. Not dying was enough of a motivation for Tavion, so he rushed over and lept onto the horse. Rafquel was surprised, but Tavion yelled, “Just ride you twit!” and they were off. Soon enough they were out of the city, and Tavion could see the treeline of The Forest of No Return, and thought to leap off the horse, letting the twit handle his own business himself. In the back of his mind, a thought came up. “If its a treasure so valuable that the royal family would execute upon learning that it went missing, there would probably be a great reward for it’s return.” For the chance of an extraordinary payout, it might prove valuable to go with the twit. They were deep in the forest by now, and stopped when they reached a fork in the road, one with a sign that said, “where there are owls,” and “where there are no owls.” They had dismounted to ponder the direction, when a horrible shrieking sound which came from all around them had spooked the horse, and it ran off into the trees, never to be seen again. There they were, a thief and a cleric, stranded in a wood where there was supposedly no return, with a fork in the road, and a sign alluding to owls. There was no way this was going to be easy.

Tempers rose as they spent hours at that fork in the road, as Tavion’s nerves were wearing thin hearing Rafquel complain about how he’s going to die no matter what. There was a lot of bickering, and hurtful words being thrown around, but they still were stuck there. Eventually Tavion got fed up, and unsheathed a blade. It was a long curved blade, with several small serrations along the edge, made of a jade green metal. Rafquel did not respond positively to it.

“Oh gods, you’re going to kill me! I swear I’ll shut up!”

Tavion chuckled slightly, “Please, I wouldn’t sully my dear Venopresa here with your blood.”

“Venopresa?”
“My prized treasure, I stole it from the Naga Queen of Southern Iraquesh, I always have it on me, and I wouldn’t waste it on you. We’re going to let it make a decision for us.” With that, he closed his eyes, and spun around once, throwing the blade with incredible speed. The jade blur shot through the air and sunk into the signpost with a dull thud. Tavion opened his eyes and saw it resting in the center of the arrow that said, “where there are owls.” He walked over and pulled the blade out of the sign, there was a green residue where it struck in, which began sizzling and bubbling, eating away until the arrow broke in two.

He turned and looked at Rafquel with a devious smile, “Little enchantment on the blade, corrosive venom that seeps into any incision it makes. Anyway, let’s go, it’s better than sticking around here any longer.”

“But do we have to go down that path?” There was a tone of worry in his voice.

“Why the sudden concern?”
“Well… what if that sign is accurate?”

“Then we will see owls, what of it?” Tavion was getting annoyed.
“I… don’t like owls.”
“I don’t like rats, what of it?”

“I have a fear of owls, alright?”

Tavion was amused, “A fear… of owls? What, did an owl take your lunch money or something?”

“No! It’s nothing like that!” He then sat down and began to reminisce, much to Tavion’s annoyance. “My parents died when I was very young, so I lived with my grandmother. She had always wanted me to have a respectable career, and always nurtured me and pushed me to join the Royal Academy. In a way, she helped make me who I am today. She had a beloved pet owl, which didn’t like me that much. One day, it went wild and attacked me, and when she tried to get it off of me and defend me, it mauled her to death. Since then, I can’t be around owls at all, they terrify me.”

“Wow… I’m sorry, that’s actually tragic.”

“Thank you.”
“… And kind of hilarious.”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just picturing an old lady getting attacked by an owl, and I can’t help but laugh.”
“That was my grandmother!”

“Still funny.”
“You’re horrible, you know that?”
“Rafquel my dear annoyance, you have to be in order to survive in this world. Now suck it up and come with me, or stay here and starve to death.”

They continued on, Rafquel slowly trudging on, eyes darting in every direction, looking for the owls that the sign spoke of. There was no end to the path in sight, and watching trees pass by for what looked like hours of travel, Tavion figured he should try some kind of small talk.
“So, you’re cleric at the Royal Academy, what’s your field.”
Rafquel’s eyes were still darting around, still looking for the winged menace. “Uh, oh right, I’m in an Arcane Acolyte, studying the magics of the lost kingdoms.”

“Huh, you’re actually a little interesting. Can you do any of that magic?”

“A-a bit yes. Nothing too useful I’m afraid.”

“Well that’s less interesting. Why do you live like that? You academy jokers spend all your time inside, pouring over books, rarely venturing outside, and you don’t even allow women into your ranks. Why live like that?”

“Well, there’s a quiet dignity to it I suppose. I did it all because my grandmother wanted me to, she wanted me to have a life as a dignified academic, to make some great discovery to benefit all of mankind. But I don’t know if that’s really for me.”

“Alright, lack of alternatives forces me to ask, what would you prefer to do?”
“Well, I’ve always dreamed of owning a little apothecary shop. Just a quiet little existence helping people out, going out once a week to pick ingredients, returning home every night to a loving wife. A lot better than wasting away pouring over musty tomes.”

“Wow… that’s… nice? Not really my thing.”

“Well, I’ve never been one for excitement. What about you? Do you particularly enjoy your means of living?”

Tavion paused for a bit, it was a question that he had never even thought he’d be asked, and he really didn’t know how to answer. “I remember back when I was young, my dad was the only one around, and he really didn’t care about me. I was free to roam the streets while he was doing odd jobs and drowning himself in rum. I had always heard the stories of the famous adventurers, braving untold dangers, slaying vicious monsters, and recovering precious lost treasures, all to the glory and admiration of everyone. I always dreamed of being an adventurer and finding some priceless treasure, to buy a big house will all kinds of luxuries, so dad wouldn’t drink so much, and maybe be proud of me for once.

“One day there was a flier posted up outside a pub, there was a crew wanting to go out, and recover a lost treasure from deep within a large canyon, and they needed some extra hands. I saw this as my chance, and gathered the few things I owned, and slipped away. The crew saw I was nimble and small, and gladly accepted me. It was several days journey, and one night we snuck over to see our target. Turns out it was a small tribal village in their ancestral home, proud men and women with playful children all living out a happy life. The target was a sacred idol in the back of the village, which they all prayed to once a day, at the same time. There were too many people around no matter the hour, so they decided that I was small enough to take it without getting noticed. I got in easily, but was hesitant, I didn’t want to destroy these people’s lives. But then I remembered my dream of the big house, and took the idol.

“When we got back to the city, the crew thanked me, and gave me 75 gold pieces. It wasn’t enough to buy the house, but it was enough to live comfortably for a while. I rushed home, so happy, so proud of myself, and was sure dad was going to be proud. I walked in and found my dad on the floor, dead. He had drank himself to death, and I was now an orphan. I lived in that home by myself, sneaking into people’s houses and stealing from them while they slept. A few weeks later, I had heard about a small village, peaceful people who had never hurt anyone and were always kind to travelers. They had all died of thirst, after their sacred idol and only source of making water went missing. All their blood was on my hands. After that, I remembered just feeling a sort of emptiness, and realized what a cruel place the world was, and how you had to be cruel to survive in it. I don’t think there’s any other way I can live really.”

There a long silence, as Rafquel kept feeling the need to say something, but failed to find the words. The silence didn’t last, as a mysterious sound began to come from the path in front of them. There was a thick cloud of black mist that was giving off a sound that was like a hiss and a gurgle. The cloud began to rise and expand, before the hissing sound turned into a ear shattering screech. The mist blew away as a huge gale erupted from it’s center, and where the mist once was now stood a creature, ten feet tall, with four large wings, barbed claws at the end of each one, covered in brown and white feathers, and a distinct owl-like face.

Rafquel fell down in shock and began backing away in terror. “Good Gods, it’s Zezmelett!”

Tavion drew Venopresa and his secondary mythrill dagger and got into a ready stance. “Zezmelett?”

Rafquel was still backing away, quaking in fear, “The monstrous Owl-King. It’s a vicious and deadly beast, with a bounty on it’s head in every kingdom.”

Tavion raised an eyebrow in interest, “You mean to tell me that this thing’s head is valuable?”

“Yes, incredibly so!”

Tavion gave a wry smile,“All the motivation I need.” With that he dashed forward, but to his surprise was kept at bay by the squall created by it’s massive wings. Thinking on his feet, he lunged to the side, running up the trunk of one of the trees, jumping from it and diving forward to it. Zezmelett, began to change direction of it’s flapping, but it wasn’t quick enough as Tavion made a gash in the center of it’s chest. It screeched in pain, but before Tavion could strike a finishing blow, it caught him with one of it’s barbed claws. It threw him to the ground, and stepped on him with one of it’s talons. It gave off another bellowing screech, and began to swing all four of it’s claws at once, aiming right at Tavion. He cringed, and held his blades in front of him as some sort of desperate defense, waiting for the blow to strike. It never came though.

Cautiously he opened one eye, to see what exactly was keeping his demise from finishing things. Around all four of its wings and tight around its throat was a set of glowing, golden chains. Tavion followed the chains with his eyes, and found Rafquel crouched in a ready position, mumbling in a strange language, with each chain appearing from the center of his palms.

“Hey, good on you, you finally stopped pissing yourself in fear! Can you get this feathered bastard off me though? It’s not nearly attractive enough for me to get into this submissive stuff.”

Rafquel cracked a smile, and then slammed his arms down to the ground, the chains taking that force with them, toppling Zezmelett and making it stumble out of balance, freeing Tavion from it’s grasp. Tavion sprang to his feet, and lunged forward, ready to finish things. Still moving forward, he plunged his mythrill dagger into the Owl-King’s side, leaping up and swinging his legs as he did so, propelling him above the beast, facing it’s back. Fluidly he sank Venopresa right into the back of its neck, the corrosive venom eating away at it’s spine, until it’s screams of agony ceased and it fell to the ground. The long feared Owl-King was now dead.

Tavion began to get to work cutting off it’s claws and head, trophies so he could claim the bounty promised. While he was eviscerating the monstrous corpse, Rafquel was oddly silent. He only spoke up when Tavion was having a comically hard time jamming it all in the rather small pack he brought everywhere. “You know, I was admittedly too terrified by the thought of a giant owl ripping me asunder, but I just realized what that black mist was.”

“Oh?” Tavion said, stomping on the surprisingly thick skull barely not fitting in the pack.

“That was an old preventative spell, a fear spell. It rips your worst fear in the world from wherever or whenever it really existed, as a way to keep people away.”

“So, *whack * you’re *whack * saying *whack * that *whack * this *whack * giant *whack * bastard *whack *… is because of your rather amusing owl fear?” He said, gasping for air after trying to hammer the head of the monstrosity into the pack with it’s own leg.

“Exactly, but that means we’re not exactly through.”

Tavion finally managed to get the buckle of the pack to close, and stood up. “I’m guessing you mean we’ve yet to face my fear here?”

“Yes!”

“Calm down Raffy, you’ve got nothing to worry about, I’ve got no fears.”

“You’re not afraid of anything?”

“I can promise you no owl monsters or any other type will come after us. At least, not on my account.”

They were about a half mile past the owl’s corpse when they encountered a large cloud of black mist. Rafquel gave a worried look at Tavion who remain stoic and unphased. They waited, yet nothing stepped out of the cloud, and only when a light breeze kicked up did they see what it was hiding. There was a large hole in the ground, rectangular with neat edges, showing it was man made. A step closer showed it was not too deep, only about five or six feet. There was an awful smell reeking from it, and upon closer inspection was revealed to be layers upon layers of shit, some fresh, some months old. The most disturbing element wasn’t the excrement though, but the two skeletal arms reaching out of it. They were strewn randomly, as if their owner was carelessly tossed in, and tightly clutched in each of their bony fingers were two objects. One, an empty rum bottle, the other a very distinctive dagger, with a serrated blade made of a jade green metal.

Tavion stared at that grave for a long time, silent, unblinking. This was his future, and how he was viewed. He remembered that scrappy little kid with wide eyed dreams of being an adventurer, to be beloved by all, to help people in every way he could. He looked at himself now, a drunken selfish thief, he adventured, but only at the request of others for him to pilfer something or another, and the fruits of his efforts always ended with him drowning himself in rum and women. His younger self would have kicked him. He was what so many people despised, he was what he despised, he was worse than his own bastard of a father. His whole world, what he was, and what he was going to be crumbled around him.

He bent over, and grabbed the second Venopresa from the skeletal hand, and turned to Rafquel. “Heh, joke’s on them, now I’ve got two.” He chuckled weakly, but his face soon returned to the hollow dazed expression, and he began to trudge on as if he was fighting himself to remain the same. Rafquel remained silent, and followed behind.

The passing of time blurred, and neither of them was sure of how long they had walked before before they had reached that clearing. There was a stark deadness to the ground, as if it was a patch of land so malevolent that neither tree nor blade of grass dared grow in it. In center was a stone building in disrepair, dead vines draped over the black granite stones, it was a building that gave a sense of foreboding just looking at it. In the center of the ramshackle doorway stood a strange looking man. He had a long beard, white, yet with waving streaks of black throughout it. He wore a set of long mauve robes, yet they appeared to be made of fur. He had a small, mean looking face that looked like a rat had chewed on it for several hours, and dark, bloodshot eyes that made one’s blood grow cold. On top of his head was the most remarkable feature though, a crown made entirely of yellow topaz that shimmered even in the dark forest, with a black owl crest in the center of it. He barked at them in a high, annoying voice, like a sick mouse trying to sing an opera, “Very impressive gentlemen, I never expected anyone to get this far.”

Tavion gave a smirk, “Look Raffy, I’m not the only thief here anymore.”

“Oh I’m far from a thief, only taking what is so rightfully mine. The Crown of Zem-Zelette is a gift to those who rule from wisdom. Those fools in that palace don’t act like that in the least. And once I’ve finished unlocking it’s power, I’ll force the fools out and dance on their bloated corpses. The kingdom will be mine to rule!”

“Right, because citizens are all for taking orders from a crazy man who spends his time living out in the middle of a forest, and I can only guess who spends his time humping squirrels.”

The sinister man laughed, “I’ll show you my power if you don’t believe me. It’ll be nice to wipe that smug grin off your face.” with that he began chanting and raised his arms into the air. The crown on his head gave a faint glow, and then a bright flash, as a dull yellow bolt of electricity shot from his hands into the dead ground. There was a silence, followed by a rumbling sound which admittedly scared Tavion a bit. Not as much as when the ground erupted with bodies though. Each looked like a human corpse, but yet not human, as their arms and heads were covered in feathers, and from their hands protruded a set of barbed claws that looked all too familiar. There were about thirty total, and they were striding at a dangerously fast pace, heading right to Tavion and Rafquel.

Tavion began to chuckle, and then limber up. “Nice one there, gotta say I wasn’t expecting anything like that,” he said while cracking his neck. “I wouldn’t get all that cocky though. You see, it’s always wise to know about your opponent. I’ve already got a good idea about your boys here thanks to your little fear spell out there. But I’m a fair man, so I’ll give you a little something to go on yourself.” His expression grew serious as he drew both jade green blades. “I’m the best.”

Tavion rushed forward at incredible speed, it almost seemed like he melted into a whirlwind of blades. As soon as he got into range of one of the creatures he plunged one blade straight into its heart while slitting its throat with the other, seamlessly pulling them out and hacking another’s arm off and gouging it’s eye. It was a sheer storm of blades, each that tried to lay its claws on him would find its claws hacked off and a blade through its throat. The crowned man looked in horror as that which took him months of vigorous study to learn, and years of planning beforehand was hacked down one by one in front of his eyes.

It was three minutes and twenty seven seconds later, and each creature lay on the ground dead. The crowned wizard raised his arms and began the chant again, but Tavion learned long ago that it was dangerous to rest until a job was completely finished. The man only managed to get the first word of the chant finished, before he felt the impact, and corroding venom, of twin blades piercing his heart and skull. Tavion relaxed and let his corpse unceremoniously fall to the ground. The crown rolled off his cracked and sizzling head and into the small building. Tavion followed it in and picked it up, but noticed a door in the middle of the room, not connected to any wall. He stepped forward and inspected it, there was an odd familiarity to it. Slowly, cautiously, he opened it and looked through. There was the sound of birds in the air and the rather larger rats squeaking., and the smell of cooked meats, blacksmith furnaces, and sewage flooded in. He was looking through the door into a paved alley, right in the center of the city. This was an enchanted doorway, and how the lunatic was going to get his horde in the city.

Tavion shouted for Rafquel to come, and the two of them found themselves about three streets from where it all began. Tavion held the crown in his hand, inspecting it, and playing around with it to torture Rafquel. “You know,” he said not looking up from the crown, “it has occurred to me that I could simply return the crown to the palace for a large reward myself, and just leave you to whatever fate that would come to you.” He heard Rafquel give off a shocked wimper, and looked up to see his face twisted in terror, betrayal, and sadness. Before he could go on a pleading tirade, Tavion interrupted him, “BUT, I think it would be better if I just turned it over to you.” He gave a small smile as he handed it over to Rafquel, who gladly took it, stashing it under his robes and then hugging Tavion before running off, to save his own hide.

Tavion smiled, though he missed the chance for a rather large payout, he still felt good about it. “The world is a terrible awful place, and one has to be terrible to survive in it, but sometimes a bit of kindness can be warranted,” he figured. He sheathed both his blades, and walked on, noticing the particular brightness of the sun, and the warm energy of the populace in the streets. He was tempted to return to Crookshank’s, but wanted to go somewhere a little more positive. He thought about it for a moment, and then wondered what Sarasha was up to.

“So… how bad would it be if I say… slept with Stacy?”

“You slept with Stacy?!”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“She’s the bride you idiot!”

“Yeah… I figured that was going to be your reaction.”

“Oh god, oh god, ok… we can deal with this later. We can just pretend it never happened.”

Stan, the apparent shameless lecher, stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Roland gave him a look of judgement and exasperation, “Oh dear god what did you do?”

“Well, the sex was fantastic, and I was pretty drunk at the time. and suddenly she’s talking about how we’re going to be happy living together.”

“What?!”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m not too thrilled about that last part.”

“Do you even know how screwed you are right now?”

“More screwed than Stacy?”

Roland punched him for the inappropriate joke. “Her dad is the bloody Don of the Irish Maffia!”

Stan stood there for a moment, letting the realization of how terribly boned he was sink in. He only said one thing, “So I should probably disappear, right?”

Roland sighed, “Pack your bags, you’re going to India.”

It was either the smell in the air, or the cheap gin that made Alphonse feel like vomiting. Even though the intense waves of nausea broke over him like high tide, he did not move nor make any attempt to head to the bathroom, he had had enough cheap liquor before to know that the best thing right now was to sit still and let it pass. The musty smell of what can only be described as urine, vomit, shame, and despair didn’t help things out. The terrible country music being played over the radio was enough to make one gag, but Alphonse managed to suppress the urge by focusing on the never-ending supply of obscenities and pathos carved into the bar counter. This place, Jim’s Tavern, was so reminiscent of a cliché run down bar that one could feel like they were stepping into a noir film by just walking through the door.

(Cut off line so I don’t clog off your dash)

Read More

Last night, I was lying in my bed, restlessly tossing about, unable to sleep. My mind was preoccupied with many things, and I wistfully wished that I would give anything for things in my life to change. As soon as I had finished that thought, there was a bright flash and a puff of smoke, and a man sitting in a chair was staring at me. He was dressed in a fine solid black suit, and wore polished leather shoes that looked quite expensive. In the low light I could see that his skin had a dark, reddish tint to it, and he had two small horns poking through his neatly trimmed hair. 

He had a sinister look upon his face, and with a devilish smile he said and deep, charming voice he said, “Perhaps I could assist you with that.”

Though I had pretty much figured it out at that point, exhaustion had dulled my mind enough that I asked, “Who are you?”

He chuckled darkly, “Oh I’ve gone by quite a few names in my life, but they’re of little importance. What is important is that I can help you out of your dull and dreary existence. I can give you anything you desire… and for a very low price.”

I had read the tale of Faust and many similar stories, I knew how a situation like this worked. Anything I wan’t for my soul, but it ends up blowing up in my face quite terribly. Still, I was incredibly tempted, and I foolishly rationalized that With the proper negotiation, I could come out ahead. I let my mind wander a bit before asking him, “Could you give me superpowers?”

He frowned a bit, “Ah, no, I can’t do that.”

“Really? No superpowers huh? I would have jumped all over that.” I thought for a bit more and asked, “What about my own team of living, breathing Pokemon? That’d be almost as good.”

His frown deepened, “I’m afraid I can’t do that either. “

“What about my own TARDIS? I’d love one of those.”

His frustration was quite visible at that point, “No, can’t give you one of those.”

I was becoming frustrated too, “Man, so much for anything I want.”

He sat up a little, seeing an opportunity to nudge me in the right direction, “Most people ask for something like wealth, power, or fame. Things of that nature.”

“Well yes, but those things are so terribly ordinary. Hell, I could get any of those things with pure dumb luck. This is my soul we’re talking about here, I want to get my money’s worth here.”

I did a little more pondering, before asking, “So after this deal is done and I die, I have to reside in your domain for all eternity, right?”

He looked a little worried because I had figured out his goal, “Yes… that is the long and short of it.”

“Even if my request is to go to go directly to heaven after I die?”

There was a long pause and he looked quite perplexed, “… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No… no one’s thought to ask for that. I don’t think I’d want to though, it would kind of defeat the purpose.”

“Alight, look, if the best you can offer is increibly ordinary things, then we have no further buisness sir.”

He looked angry, and vanished in a puff of flames and smoke. I didn’t let the odd situation phase me, and I curled back up in my blankets and finally fell asleep. 

“Pat, we’re nearly at the scene. What’s the initial diagnosis?”

“There is some confusion over the entire incident Initial investigations rule to be an accidental death.”

“So why were we called in? I don’t quite enjoy missing my daughter’s birthday to look at an accident.”

“Lieutenant Strayer, who is currently in charge of the investigation, put in a request for our unit, saying, ‘there are too many odd things about this, we need further investigation.’”

The detective sighed heavily,”Alright, thanks Pat.”

There was a silence in the squad car, save for the hum of engine and the occasional police reports over the radio. The usual, almost strobe-like, flicker of passing streetlights were far behind them, and they were navigating in the twilight sky down the winding mountain paths. The only source of light in the car was the glow from Pat’s eyes.

Pat, or P.A.T., was a APPSOFT Criminal Assessment Droid. A fancy name for an android for the Police department. He and Richard were members of the DADELUS unit, found in every police force. Usually teams of two, a detective and a droid, they were used to solve more complex crimes faster, using the abilities of the droid like a mobile crime lab. Because of technical limitations, the droids could only have three technical specifications. P.A.T. Was special because he was equipped with a special analytics engine, one that let him analyze various bits of evidence from crime scenes and draw conclusions based on them. An unintended side effect of that was that he was livelier than most other units, one could even say he acted like any other person. 

“Richard, do you ever wonder what would happen if they shut the DADELUS division down?”

Richard gave a small sigh and smiled. “You’ve been reading net reports again, haven’t you?”

“I was looking for information.”

“You’ve been reading those rumor sites again. Look, I’ve told you those people will make up any crazy thing just to garner a little attention for themselves. We’ll be fine, you’re in no danger of being shut down.” He paused for a moment and then added, “you know, it’s cute when you worry.”

“Richard, I hardly think anything I could do would be considered cute. Besides, it is natural for one to worry about things that could jeopardize it’s existence.”

Things that could jeopardize it’s existence, Richard thought. Pat was actually scared of dying. Of course, he didn’t need to fear anything, rumors like that were always popping up on the net, but there was no basis for them. In truth, the unit was secure, it was a great boon to the department. But still, Pat was actually fearful of his mortality. Richard sometimes forgot that Pat was a machine. 

They found themselves pulling up to a large gate blocking off a road that lead into a forest. There was a speaker in front of it, and a poorly rendered voice full of static came through, “Verification?” 

Richard was surprised, he hadn’t dealt with outdated technology like this before, so he spoke unsurely, “Uhh… Detective Richard Leon, AHPD.”

“You may pass.” With that, the rusty gate slowly slid open, making a loud screeching sound.They drove down the winding way, passing by many an archaic house, surprised to see buildings so old still standing. They parked among the other squad cars and began to head into the house closed off by the other officers. Richard saw out of the corner of his eye many a person standing in their window, staring intently at Pat. 

He followed the sounds of talking into what looked like a kitchen. Richard was a little unsure, because everything was terribly outdated, he didn’t even know how it could function properly. A young dark haired man walked briskly up to him. 

“You must be Detective Leon. Lieutenant Dan Strayer, pleased to meet you,” he said happily while sticking out his hand to Richard.  

Richard received the hand and shook it firmly. “Good to meet you Lieutenant, this,” he gestured to Pat, “is Pat. Now, why don’t you fill me in on this whole affair?”

Strayer filled them in on everything. The victim was Dimitri Wingate, the owner of this entire remote settlement. Apparently he was very resistant to technological advancement, so much so that he used his inheritance to set up a community and his own mini-government to rule it, making a list of anti-tech rules to govern over the people. There wasn’t much else on him in the files, or rather, nothing of use. The call came in several hours ago, and the apparent cause of death looked like a gas leak. 

“So, why call me out here for a gas leak?”

“Well sir, there are a few things out of place, too many to just overlook. For one thing, the leak is in the middle of the line, it looks like it was cut.  That, and we found several scorch marks on the counter and wall. Which, if there was a gas leak, wouldn’t it catch fire? That’s why I called you in.”

“Not bad kid, good investigating.” Richard turned to Pat, patiently waiting by his side, “Pat, run a pathological assessment on the body and a general scan of this entire room.” He turned  back to Strayer, “Have you questioned anyone yet?”

“Some. We’ve tried talking to the guy who discovered the body, but he’s pretty distant, and not being that cooperative. There are a few others that showed up that we’ve gotten a little out of. Apparently this guy wasn’t too popular.” 

“Alright, I’ll see if I can make any progress.”

Pat’s voice spoke up before Richard could leave the room, “Richard, I’m already something, that there are multiple possible causes of death.”

Richard stopped, “What do you mean Pat?”

“Well, it is impossible to tell without a proper autopsy, but there are signs of asphyxiation, but there is something else. The victim seems to have an electric pacemaker and mechanical heart valve, both of which seem to have short circuited.”

“What are the odds that they just shorted out coincidentally?”

“Individually, very low. They’re made to last incredibly long durations. But both of these seem to have short circuited at the same time, and the odds of that happening are almost incalculably low.”

“Hmm…very Interesting. Nice work Pat, keep at it, and put in a request for the victims medical records, just to be safe.”

Richard walked into the dimly lit dining room where a thin, pale man sat staring down at his lap. He looked a little shaken from discovering a body, as most people would. Richard sat down on the opposite side of the table, and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it up and took a long drag of it, gesturing the pack to the slender man to offer him one. The man noticed this and quietly said, “no thanks, I don’t smoke.”

Richard pocketed the pack within his coat, and reached his hand back at the man, kindly saying, “Richard Leon.”

The man gingerly grasped his hand and lightly shook, stammering, “James Moore.” 

“So James, tell me a little about yourself.”

James reluctantly revealed little about himself. He mentioned that he had lived alone here in Pine Acre (the name of the settlement, Richard learned), for nearly a decade. He was the owner of the only store in the town, and in charge of making sure everyone got what they needed. 

“I see, sounds like a nice, quiet living.”

“Well, it’s nothing too exciting, but I enjoy it.”

“Mister Moore, I need to ask you about your relationship with the victim.”

“Well, Mister Wingate and I had somewhat rocky relationship. You see, every time I needed to reorder stock for the store, I had to get approval from him. He inspected every little thing, to make sure nothing violated his rules. He and I got into a lot of fights about his rules, but he always won in the end…”

“What’s so important about his rules?”

“Well, he owns this entire settlement. He charges really low rates for housing and food, so that’s why people stay here, usually because it’s all we can afford. But, if anyone breaks his rules, he has them forcibly removed. We can’t really afford to live anywhere else, so we put up with them.”

“Hmm… And what are these rules like?”

“Well, some of your standard gated community rules. The most important ones were the ones regarding technology. He had an intense hatred of all modern day technology, really anything made within the past fifty years. If anyone was caught with anything forbidden, you’d be instantly ousted.”

“Interesting character. I’ve never heard of a technophobe that goes to such lengths to create such a tech-free environment. I’m surprised this place could even sustain itself.”

“Well, it can barely. In fact, unknown to him, I had to use a lot of his forbidden tech just to keep this place up and running. In fact the only reason we have power is because I installed a series of power converters that he expressly forbade.”

“I see… Mister Moore, can you tell me about when you discovered the body?”

 ”*sigh* I suppose I should. It was only a few hours ago, at about six o’clock. I was on my way over to get approval for the next week’s shipping order. I knocked on the door several times, and no one answered. This wasn’t uncommon, as he sometimes doesn’t hear me, he likes to play music while cooking. I walked around to the back door in the kitchen to see if he was there, and that’s when I saw the body. I immediately ran back home and called the police.”

“Alright Mister Moore, I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

Richard walked down a narrow hallway into what looked like a study. It was there that he saw a small, cold looking woman. She had a mean, almost icy air to her, one that makes a person tense up by being near her. Richard gave a nod to the officer in the room and he walked outside while Richard sat down in his chair. The woman glared at him before barking at him, “I’ve already told all of you everything I know, let me out of here already!”

Richard puffed on his cigarette a bit before responding, “Calm down, I’m not going to ask you anything about tonight. I just need to ask you a few things about Mister Wingate.”

“*Humph* That old bastard got what was coming to him if you ask me.”

“So you didn’t like him miss…?”

“Smith, Amanda Smith, and I couldn’t stand the old perv. He was constantly leering at me, ‘accidentally’ groping me, and threatening to kick me out if ever told anyone.”

“So he had a problem harassing you?”

“Problem? No, he was just fine with it. He’d frequently come over to my house for ‘Inspections, to see if I was breaking the rules,’ the only thing he ever inspected was my chest.” She turned away and her face changed from bitter to pained and vulnerable, “He… He even did it when my kids were in the other room. I didn’t want anything except for him to stop.”

“You have my sympathy ma’am. I’ll give you some time.”

Richard walked from the study and found an empty room to think. He lit up another cigarette and thought Moore was definitely acting strange, but I have to get him the benefit of the doubt, sometimes a bit of shock from finding a dead body can make someone behave strangely. And Mrs.. Smith, she was at wits end about the harassment, but would that drive her to do something that would end up killing him? *sigh* Just once couldn’t it be easy? Like that guy a couple of years back in Georgia who left his wallet and murder weapon at the scene of the crime. Why couldn’t I get something like that?

It was at that moment that Pat peered into the doorway. “Richard, my analysis is complete.”

He stepped out of the room and said, “So, what did you turn up?”

“Well, Lieutenant Strayer was right, there are many odd things about this place. An analysis of the break in the gas line of the stove showed a rough break, it doesn’t look like it was cut, but there is no signs of wear on the rest of the line, which is suspicious.The scorch marks on the counter seem to be electrical in origin, but there is nothing that could have made them within reach. There are also multiple sets of recent footprints in the kitchen area. I can’t make a definite ruling, but it looks like this could be murder.”

“That’s what I was thinking too, none of this really adds up.” He paused for a moment to think and added, “Did you find anything else?”

“No, other than that, the kitchen was relatively spotless.”

“Anything on his medical records?”

“The only thing worth noting is that last month he had his heart components inspected last month, and they were found to be in perfect working order. So the likelihood of both failing is even lesser than originally thought.” 

“*sigh* Another complex one huh? Alright, do a quick sweep of the rest of the house, I’ll look around the yard outside. Meet up with me when you’re done and we’ll talk to some of the other residents, see if we can get anything cleared up about the old man and who may want to off him.”

Though dark, there was nothing amiss in the front yard. The only signs of foot traffic seemed to have come from the officers patrolling the house. Richard sighed at the waste of time and made his way to the backyard. There were a few small furnishings on the deck, but little else. Just as he was about to give up, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. There were several whips of smoke coming from a cluster of trees at the edge of the property. He cautiously walked over to it, and found an old incinerator hidden away. He cautiously touched it, and quickly pulled it away, finding it incredibly hot. So, this was used recently, huh? What did somebody want to get rid of?

He looked around, but couldn’t find a trace of anything but ash. He was still looking when Pat came up to him. “Nothing out of the ordinary in the rest of the house.”

“Hmm… Say Pat, do a scan on the contents of this incinerator, look for anything other than wood and paper.”

Pat’s eyes shone a blue cone of light over the interior of the incinerator and swept over the pile of ashes several times, before fading away while Pat spoke, “Out of place items include: bent bits of scrap metal, a medium amount of plastic, a singed and partially melted high voltage industrial battery, and…” He reached inside and picked out an ash covered lump, “and a bit of copper wiring bent into a coil.”

“Hmm… Doesn’t sound like that could make anything.”

“Other than a very basic power circuit, no.”

“Damn, thought we had something there. Your scanners are a lot more sensitive than my eyes, can you pick up on anything I may have missed?” 

Pat sat and scanned over the yard for several minutes, Richard waiting patiently by his side. After a while Pat’s eye’s died down, yet he did not speak. Richard could hear the faint sound of several of his processors humming, trying to filter everything they had picked up. After a while he spoke, “It’s faint, but I may have picked up a trail of footprints.”

“You can!?”

“There is a faint trail of rubber residue in the shape of shoe prints coming from the house. If I run that in conjunction with a pressure displacement scan of footsteps on the ground, I think I can follow the path they made.”

“Do it! It could lead us to the killer.”

The path they followed was a long and winding, weaving haphazardly between trees, yet never leaving the sight of the line of houses. They had to pause several times because Pat would lose the trail and have to recalibrate his sensors just to pick it up again. After about an hour the trail led them out of the forest and behind an oddly shaped building. From the size and shape of it, Richard could tell it was not one of the houses, but Pat was not focused on that. He was still following the fading trail, and stopped in front of a dumpster. Richard walked over and looked inside with Pat. There was a horrible smell that escaped when they opened it, and looking around there were several white trash bags piled inside, along with several bright orange ones with a biohazard symbol on the side. It looked like medical waste, meaning that this was most likely some sort of medial practice. But, on top of the garbage was something out of place. It appeared to be a wadded up mess of wires and electrical components. Before Richard could ask him to do so, Pat reached in and picked it up, scanning it instantly. 

As his scan was performing he said, “It appears to be a series of wires, transistors, amplification circuits, miniature antennae, and a single remote activation trigger.”

Richard thought out loud, “Why would someone take such a long, convoluted trail, just to throw away some basic electronics?” In his mind he retraced his steps all the way back to the crime scene, before something hit him, “Pat, I still need you functional, so run a background process. Analyze these components we just found with the out of place materials we found in the incinerator. See what possible devices they could make, but try to disregard anything irrelevant to the circumstances.”

“I’ll try my best Richard, but it will take some time.”

They walked around the building and stepped through the dusty glass doors. The initial theory of it being a medical practice was confirmed, as they found themselves in a rather dull waiting room with mint green wallpaper. The receptionist behind the window immediately told them that they were closing up, and unless it was an emergency they’d have to come back in the morning. 

Richard flashed his badge, “we need a word with the doctor.”

She pointed to the only other door in the room and they both walked through it. They walked down a short hallway and a passed several doors, following the sounds of clanking coming from the end of the hall. They walked into a spacious examination room, and found a short, dark haired man with his back to them, busy putting things in cabinets. 

After several minutes of continuing, not noticing them at all, Richard loudly cleared his throat. The man quickly turned around, “Oh! Terribly sorry gents, but the office is closed. Unless of course it’s an emergency.”

Richard raised his badge, “Detective Richard Leon, AHPD, I’m here to talk with you about the death of Dimitri Wingate.”

“Oh yes, I had only heard about an hour or so ago. Well, I’m Doctor Seville, and will gladly help you out in any way.”

Richard sat down in one of the chairs in the room, “Alright, first why don’t you tell us about your relationship with the victim.”

He paused for a moment to mull it over, “Well, other than being my landlord of sorts, the best way to describe him would be my most frequent patient. He was a bit of a hypochondriac you see, every little problem he had he would come rushing to me.”

“Huh, so I take it he didn’t react too well when he found out about his failing heart?”

“Yes, that shocked him quite a bit. It was the only time he left the community for treatment, even though I was quite capable of performing it here.”

“Really? You’re not held back by his strict rules?”

“Oh no, not at all. In fact, the clinic here is probably the most technologically advanced place in the entire community. Though, admittedly, I think he just allowed it for his own self preservation. He didn’t concern himself with others too often. In fact, several times I was almost thrown out for trying to perform procedures that required something new. He never made things easy…”

Richard paused for a moment, and pulled the mangled ball of circuitry and wires from his coat. “Doctor, would you happen to recognize this?”

He stared it contemplatively, before answering, “No… Can’t say that I do. You should ask James though, he’s the best when it comes to electrical things.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes, I’m not sure how he does it, but he’s installed pretty much everything in here.”

“I see… Doctor, you said that Mister Wingate came to you for all his medical problems, would that mean that you have all his records here?”

“Oh yes, I doubt there’d be much else anywhere else.”

“Do you mind if we have a look at them?”

“Normally I’d say no, but you are the police, it couldn’t hurt. I need to finish up here though, as you are going down the hall it’s your first room on the left.”

Richard gave the doctor a nod of thanks, and began walking  to the mentioned room. He stopped in front of the door and asked Pat, “any results yet?”

“I’m narrowing down the results, but the majority of the possibilities have basically the same function, high frequency signal emitters. That seems like the most likely result.”

“Hmm… But how does that figure in?”

“I can’t say at the moment.” 

Richard shrugged and entered the records room. All that was in there was a woefully outdated computer running on an operating system so old both Richard and Pat had difficulty working with it. “Pat, have you even heard of Windows 7?”

“No data on that Richard. Possibly somewhere out there on the net.”

Richard shrugged and tried to find the patient records. He eventually found a folder called RECORDS, and opened it. While looking for Mister Wingate’s file, something caught his eye. A file with the name Sarah Moore. Of the myriad of names there, that one stuck out to him, and he opened and read it. When he had finished, he powered off the decrepit terminal and stood up. He lit a third cigarette and puffed on it for a bit. “Pat, let’s go back to the scene of the crime. Things just started making sense.”

Try and figure out who did it and how it was done. The big reveal is up next. 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

When Richard and Pat walked into the kitchen, there were fewer officers in it, and Lieutenant Strayer was speaking directly to Mister Moore and Mrs.. Smith, apparently about to release them. He stopped when they walked in the room, “Ahh, Detective, did you turn up anything?”

“We turned up quite a bit Lieutenant, enough to know that Mister Wingate wasn’t done in by an unfortunate gas leak.”

A hush fell over the room and Strayer asked, “What do you mean?”

“Take a look at what we have here. It looks like a simple break in the gas line, right? Except, in breaks like this, the entire line usually shows signs of wear, and this one looks almost new. Not to mention, how could a gas line attached to a stove break? Unless Mister Wingate was fond of rearranging his kitchen every week or so, there would have to be some interference. But in order to give the illusion of a rough break, and make it look like an accident, a tool like pliers or something along those lines was used to tear a small hole in it.”

Strayer was baffled, “Amazing detective! So we need to start looking for suspects and-“ 

Richard cut him off, “Hold on a second Lieutenant, don’t jump the gun. Remember, my partner here said there were two possible causes of death. I’ll ask you, how do two perfectly working pieces of machinery short out at the same time?” There was a silence in response to his question, and he continued by asking, “Pat out of the items we found, could they be assembled to produce an EMP?”

Pat processed this for a minute, and then said, “Why, yes, quite easily in fact.”

“I don’t want to be here all day, so I’m just going to tell you all how it happened. The killer came into the house with the intention of murdering Mister Wingate, but hid those intentions under the guise of a social call. When Wingate walked out of the room they innocently placed a little item of their construction on the counter, and then called Wingate into the kitchen. As soon as he stepped into sight, they pressed a button on a remote control, activating the device and making it send out a pulse to shut down all machinery within a small radius, throwing Mister Wingate into cardiac arrest, but not killing him. In that small frame of time they grabbed their little device and severed the gas line to give it appearance of a leak. Knowing Wingate well, they knew he had an old incinerator in his backyard, and ripped half of its components out and tossed them into flames, to better disguise the evidence. They then ran a long winding path through the forest, and discarded the other half in a dumpster. It was a brilliant plan I must admit.”

There was a silence after Richard finished, and only Stayer dared to ask, “But why would they go through all of that? They could have simply done him in with the gas.”

“Because to the killer, it wasn’t murder, it was a matter of justice. He needed to die, and he needed to die in a specific manner. His selfish technophobia made him deny someone the same treatment that saved his own life, and costing them theirs. And this was a person very special to someone, someone who had the access to materials and technical experience to pull it of.” Richard turned to face the killer in the room, “Isn’t that right, Mister Moore?” 

Moore looked pained, as if someone had hit over the head suddenly. He spoke with pain and guilt in his voice, “That bastard… Sarah’s heart was failing, and he just said no. She needed that to live and he just said no.” His face swelled up with anger, “He killed her! She died only hours later. He took her heart away, so I had to take his!”

 Richard extinguished his fourth cigarette and turned to Stayer, “You know what to do.” Both he and Pat exited the house as Moore was being read his rights, and got into their car. “Richard, could you explain the concept of love to me? It seems to be involved in a lot of our investigations.”

Richard sighed, not wanting to complicate things between Pat and humanity for the moment. “I’ll tell you later buddy. As for now, lets just try and go home.” He paused for a second and then remembered, “But, we’ll have to stop at a mall on the way. I’m going to have to buy Emily one hell of a present to make up for this day.” 

I’m quite proud of the metaphors and symbolism here. I hope you all catch on. 

A mysterious man in mysterious clothes awoke from his bed in a countryside inn due to the sound of squabbling coming from outside. He normally wasn’t the type to inject himself into other people’s petty arguments, but when they interrupted his sleeping habits, well, that is a call for intervention. He sat up and pulled the covers and the arm of the barmaid laying in his bed from him, and grabbed his blade resting in the corner, in case things got out hand. 

He groggily descended the stairs, into the quiet, almost serene main floor (you could still hear the men bickering outside). He began to walk to the door, to silence the two, when he heard foot steps coming toward him. He knew who it was and why they were coming. He reached into a pouch at his side, and as a stout woman rounded the corner he tossed a silver coin to her and said “Reserve the room for another night.” With that settled, he walked out the door to settle the quite audible dispute. 

He walked around the corner and found two men standing and shouting at each other under a shady tree, and under the window of his room. They were both dressed in fine robes, obviously royal. One of them, the one in red robes, was a short fat man, who appeared to be rapidly graying. The other, dressed in blue, was a long lankey fellow, covered in a thin layer of dirt. He was too groggy to hear what exactly they were fighting about, but he still remarked aloud, “You know, it’s awfully hard for one to get some proper rest with two monkeys chittering about below his window.”

They both turned to him, and the fat one loudly asked, “and just who are you sir?”

The groggy man sighed, “not that it really matters but, you may call me Virgil. Now what is this whole affair about?”

They both took turns and told Virgil their story. They were both royal scholars, ones who frequently gave the king unsolicited advice. He frequently took their advice to heart, and in appreciation he gave them an important task. He wanted to improve the quality of life for every subject, so he gave the two the kingdom’s most sacred artifact, The Box of E. It could generate a vast amount of riches, but once a year. Because of this, who the riches went to would have to be chosen carefully. Rahghticus (Virgil learned that this was the name of the fat man in the red) said that it should be distributed among the lords, for they would distribute it amongst their servants and peasants as they saw fit. Leffy (the lankey gent in the blue) said that the money should be spent on making things better for all the citizens, and the rest should be given to those who have none, to make their lives easier. 

Virgil had heard tales of The Box of E before. It was given to the royal family centuries ago, and they’ve reaped the benefits ever since. The problem was that the previous king and his advisors had the same viewpoint as Rahghticus, and it did not work well. It turns out that the lords that recieved the money discovered that there was another option than distributing it amoungst all in their domain. Namely, keep it for themselves. Despite the fact that they continued to withhold all the riches for themselves, time and again the king and his advisors gave the money to the lords. Virgil was at least relieved to see that the new king was exploring his options before declaring who to give it to. Still, Virgil was as human as the rest of us, and curiosity got the best of him. While the two resumed bickering over how they should spend the money, Virgil crept over to the gilded ancient box resting at the base of the the tree. He gently pried the top open and peered inside. What he saw surprised him, and he quickly bolted uprgiht and got their attention, “Uhh… gents? About the box…” 

They both stopped quickly and turned to him based on his tone. “You are aware that… well, I don’t know how to put this, but you two are aware that the box is empty… right?”

They both looked at him blankly. After several minutes of silence, Rahghticus spoke up “What?”

“Yeah… completely empty, not even a brass coin in it.”

Rahghticus looked dumbfouned, “But it can’t be empty, it’s The Box of E, it’s filled to the brim with riches.”

“It very clearly is empty. Look inside for yourself.”

“I don’t need to look! I know it’s filled with riches.”

It was at this point that Leffy walked over to the box and looked inside. He turned to Raghticus, “There’s nothing in there.”

“Yes there is, the box is filled with riches! And those riches belong to the lords!” 

Leffy began to shout back, “No, it belongs to the people! We should disperse it fairly amongst them and make their lives better!”

Virgil turned to Leffy, “Wait, you saw the inside of the box.”

“Yes.”

“And you know it is empty.”

“Yes.”

“Yet, you’re arguing with him about how to spend the money still.”

“Yes.”

“The money that is not there.”

“Yes.” He answered quite honestly, not seeing any problem with what he had just said.  

Virgil sighed and walked away from the two, and walked back into the inn. He found the innkeeper and asked for a piece of parchment. With a quill in hand he wrote a message to the king. 

Your scholars are idiots and your box is empty. 

Use a tax proportional to one’s wealth for every citizen, lords included. They won’t be happy, but just explain that it’s the only way. Use the money to improve their quality of life as much as you can, and then return the rest, don’t spend it on anything else. That is the only way to truly improve their quality of life. 

So says the Sagreglé.

With that he stamped the letter with a seal long forgotten to some. He walked outside and found a courier, and paid him with a gold coin to deliver it to the king directly. That whole affair settled and out of his mind, he headed back to the inn and upstairs to his room, to see if there was anything left to do  with that barmaid in his bed.