A Study in Purple

[Jason]

Contracted

Look how fickle they are. Thought Inspector Edward Grimwood as he looked upon the crowd gathered around a suspected warlock. Look how rabidly mad they are, clawing at his robes with feral eyes and feral faces. The Inspector was fully aware the man in scarlet robes was evil. He had taken the soul of a man living in Elwynn forest in order to summon a demon. He had used this demon to murder three others. The case had been brought to an end by Edward himself. Still, this lynching made him uneasy.

He bid the lieutenant farewell and strolled down the cobbled street, stopping midway to his office to buy a bottle of wine. Northshire Vineyards, Osworth. Lovely. With the bottle under his arm, he strode toward the setting sun along the path leading to his home and, conversely, his office.

Upon arriving, he looks up at his office quarters. No candlelight shone through, and the curtain was closed. He'd left it open, which really only meant one thing... The Inspector clears his throat and knocks on the door with his cane. As expected, a muffled exclamation followed by the sound of tumbling bodies from behind the door marked his secretary and her late...associate...hurriedly gathering their clothing. After a few minutes of standing on his own doorstep the oak frame opens, revealing his very secretary peeking from behind the door with distraught locks piled into a hasty bun. At least she was attempting to look presentable this time.

"Evening Ms. Gumms." He says brightly. The secretary smiles at him, opening the door and stepping away. Edward removes the hat from his head and crosses through into the building, looking around for the man sure to be there. He observes the side window slightly ajar. "Slipped out the window, has he? Really, Mary, it isn't as if I didn't know he was here. I would like to meet this one."

His secretary pouts. "But you scared off the last one, Edward." The Inspector sighs. "Anyway," the secretary continues, "something came for you today. Long distance contract." Edward raises an eyebrow.

"Via whom, then?" He inquires.

Mary shrugs. "Says it's only to be opened by you personally."

Edward rolls his eyes. He'd been getting many melodramatic requests lately. A mad undertaker had send word that the Inspector was to meet him immediately, in person. There had been a necromancer using skeletons from his graveyard, or so he was told. It had turned out to be amateur grave robbers in the mid teens. Needless to say, the pay wasn't substantial. Nothing ever was these days. "Well, where is it then?" Mary points to an envelope on the mantelpiece. Edward walks over to the fireplace and retrieves the letter, breaking the unmarked seal and pulling the parchment from it's container.

Spoiler:

Inspector Grimwood just stares at the crude letter for a moment before looking off at the corner of the ceiling in disgust. "I shan't be doing this."

"Shan't be doing what, Edward?" His secretary asks innocently, looking up from her papers.

"This...this shenanigan!" He exclaims, waving the paper. Mary beckons for it. He walks over to her desk and lies the note down in front of her. She squints, moving her face closer in order to read the handwriting.

"Mhm...lost maid. One gold! Well that's good. And easy. Besides, you should get out of Stormwind. Perhaps you can have a vacation while you're over there!" She smiles widely at him.

"Vacation? Ridiculous. I don't need a vacation."

"Oh, come on. You've been under so much stress lately. Everyone needs to take a break. And you'll be traveling for free. What better a time?"

The Inspector runs a hand through his hair, a habit he'd fallen into recently. "I suppose some time in the sun couldn't hurt." Mary shakes her head in fervent agreement, much to Edward's annoyance. "Oh, fine," He acquiesces, "but you just want the office to yourself." Mary goes red in the cheeks and looks down at the desk, shuffling a few things awkwardly. "I'll be leaving in the morning. Postpone any further engagements with the usual excuse and apology." His secretary nods in confirmation and grabs a stack of papers, setting to work.

Edward moves off toward the stairs, taking them two at a time and emerging into the antechamber. He walks to the farthest door, turning the shiny brass nob and crossing the thresh hold into his private quarters, shutting the door behind him. He walks over to the water basin and splashes his face with water, removing his shirt and sitting on his uncomfortable bed with a creak. He leans forward, beginning to untie his boots. Unbidden, a host of thoughts sweep across his consciousness like a mental wave.

He remembers his first day joining the local guard in Westfall, and how proud his uncle had been that he was going to defend their home. Then further back as he left his parents, crying as the caravan pulled away from the dilapidated home that housed his poor parents. Now he was twenty again, being promoted to Detective. Never before was one as young as he given the position. He'd swelled with pride at his accomplishment.

He blinks a tear from his eye, pulling off his boots and lying back on the bed. His door opens, revealing Mary standing in the hall. She looks sheepish at Edward's half clothing, but coughs and enters anyway.

"There's a letter here from Sir Aldarich Briggem. He wants you to look into the theft of his family sword..." Edward waves a hand dismissively.

"Everything, dismiss it all." Mary frowns at him and nods slowly. She turns to leave, stopping as she passes through the door frame and turning back to him.

"You know Edward, you're not half bad without a shirt." Grimwood just looks at her incredulously.

"Ms. Gumms, I would prefer if you kept such conclusions to yourself in the future." She rolls her eyes and turns back, closing the door behind her.

"You try to give a compliment..." He hears her say from the hall. Despite, he smiles as he shakes his head. He'd once considered her for a wife, but that was before he knew about her less than respectable nature. He lies back in the bed and proceeds to stare at the ceiling, similar memories from before rushing through his mind.

Morning...

Edward wakes late in the morning, continuing to doze lazily as sunlight warms his back from the window. After another half hour later and he slides out of bed, standing up and stretching lazily. He clothes himself in his usual detective wear, puts his hat on his head, and walks out the door with a slice of bread slathered with butter in his hand. He arrives at the docks at precisely the moment the commerce ship is calling for launch. Quickly, he steps aboard, paying the toll and moving below deck.

[c0rzilla]

Strange how things turn out. How sometimes you have to leave everything behind to do what you were raised to do. Your home, the center of your faith, everything you've grown to feel safe around. But...then you realize that was the only way it could be. You couldn't grow in the old places. You were stuck, be it by routine, or rules. Still...it'd be nice to go back, for at least a short time. See a familiar face...


Annabelle stared down at her reflection in the polluted water, elbows on her thighs and chin resting on her palms. The ex-priestess had come out here to think, to muse. Water had always been soothing to watch, however the Ratchet beaches weren't something the young woman was used to. Violet eyes followed a stray green bottle as it bobbed past, parting sickly looking foam. Exasperated, the same eyes looked to the heavens for a moment.

The sound of leather boots on wood behind her. Nervous shuffling and a man clearing his throat.

Would you perhaps know a Davide Dorlitz? The source of the sounds asked.

Annabelle straightened, rolled her neck and shoulders, then turned to look behind her. Once tired, half-closed eyes widened and her body froze

The man brightened, his face shaded by the brown bowler hat atop his head. Oh, fancy this! What are you doing so far from Stormwind Ms. Green? This is hardly the place for a respectable lady.

Annabelle smiles brightly and quickly stands, almost stumbling in her hurry. "It is -wonderful- to see you Inspector Grimwood! Oh...what...am I doing here? That's a...long story." Her joyous air was quickly subdued as she rubbed the back of her head. Her bright smile turned a little more awkward.

Is it? Perhaps you could tell it over a cold drink? It's rather more hot here than I'm used to.

Annabelle nods and chuckles, lowering her hand to her side. I bet it is. And that sounds great. She couldn't help but smile as she watched the older man fan himself with his hat.

The more things change, hm?

Very well. Don't mind the rapier. It's all for show. He sighed and let his gaze wander over the goblin town as the pair began the short walk to the inn. How I do dislike being here...

One gets used to it.

I hardly think I would. I am glad to be leaving soon.

Always proper, Grimwood tipped his hat to a nearby mage. Good day, sir mage!

All Sir Mage managed in response was a grunt. Annabelle smiled at the inspector as he cleared his throat and adjusted his hat, muttering about rudeness and impropriety.

The inn. The hub of the social scene in any town, the place where plans are laid, friendships rekindled, where drunkards drown their sorrows, or any emotion so long as they can pay the tab.

As the pair stepped into the inn an orc peered over to Annabelle. He waved. She waved back and smiled.

Anna!

Feeling better, Rogg? Annabelle tapped the top of her head.

It's just scar now, no big.

Annabelle smiled and nodded while Grimwood quirked his brow and stared at Rogg, lifting his chin.

A short conversation was had between the ex-priestess and the orc, halted by an awkward shuffling of feet beside Annabelle.

Annabelle saluted Rogg, then walked into the tavern, quickly finding an empty table in the back. A favored spot for laying plans, rekindling friendships, and drowning various emotions in too much Moonberry Juice.

She looked up to the inspector. Want me to get drinks?

Grimwood sighed, taking his hat off and putting it on the table. He ran a hand through his hair. No, no. That would not be proper. You make the oddest friends in the strangest of places, Ms. Greene. Excuse me, then. What would you like?

Annabelle chuckled. "Ah...tea. Yes." She nods.

Excellent.

A male blood elf, orange haired, and dressed in ornate gray robes waved at the priestess.

Mind if I sit?

Go ahead. Annabelle nodded with her usual polite smile.

Meanwhile, over at the front of the establishment Grimwood talked to the inn's proprietor, peering around at the patrons distrustfully. Eventually, he moved off to fill their mugs.

Everything going well?

Annabelle shook her head, and quieted her voice. Not. At. All.

What's your problem?

Silesta got captured. Or something. Some kind of trouble in Duskwood.

Annabelle glanced to Grimwood, as if making sure the grown man stayed out of trouble. Eventually, he had the two mugs filled, and hurried back to their table.

Well, nice seeing you Annabelle, do let me know if I can help.

Grimwood looks up over at Anna, taken aback. Who was that, Ms. Greene? I hardly thought you one to fraternize with...elves.

The young woman smiled a bit, and chose not to comment.

...where were we?

You had not started.

Annabelle stretched out her legs under the table and her arms above her head. Do you remember months ago, me and two other girls investigating a certain circus?

Grimwood nodded Yes. How is Ms. Lambbrick?

Annabelle sipped her tea. Alright, last time I saw her. She does have her own cases to take care of, so isn't always with us. But yes...the Circus. I and those under my command, have chased them from Elwynn, to Un'goro, to Tanaris, to -Outland-, and then back to Azeroth.

Indeed? I- Those under your command, Ms. Greene? I do not fully understand.

Annabelle smiled a bit. "I lead a rather motley group. It started out with just me and Alexas Kalter. It grew quickly and numbers about...twenty I believe. We hunt and deal with those dealing in shadow and fel, to put it simply."

Indeed? Little Anna, you have grown haven't you? The inspector smiled.

Annabelle couldn't help but giggle slightly and nod. ...I have. She looks down. The Circus events are the most recent however. Other events have led to my 'growing up.'

I hope you have not been hurt in your recent...'endeavors'?

All Grimwood got in response to his concerned question was a nervous chuckle.

I wonder...how would he feel to know I was murdered? He dedicated his life to investigating murders. No, I won't tell him. At least I'll put it off for as long as possible.

Two battles have occured. One outside of Gadgetzan. The other in Nagrand at my fiancee's ranch. It was...razed.

Grimwood quirked an eyebrow. Your fiance? My, my, while I'm struggling to make ends meet I am left bereft of wedlock. I really should look into such a thing, before I turn gray...

Annabelle smiled. I'm quite sure you'll find someone , Edward. As much of a gentleman as you are. She nodded affirmatively and sipped her tea.

Grimwood chuckled and took a modest drink from his own tea. Oh, I can hardly afford to bother, really. My work keeps me terribly busy. I'm afraid I would be a lax husband at best.

Annabelle rubbed the back of her head Getting married was the -last- thing on my mind. But... She shrugged then smiled a bit. I'm sure you two'd be fast friends.

Indeed? I am quite sure. Such heroism, from such individual close to me. It inspires a bit of courage in myself. He smiled.
But I digress.

Annabelle tilted her head. As many murder cases as you've worked on and solved? I think you were already courageous.

Oh, I have a courage, but so does a dog. But to go to Outland, chasing a mad circus? Seeking out Fel-users? I have scraped with some such organizations before, and I have no desire to repeat such a thing.

Well, I -am- a priestess. I suppose it's what I was called to do.

What would he do if he knew I left? Be disappointed in me? I...think I'll hold off on telling him that as well.

Perhaps, perhaps. I am just a simple man, as it is. Not much in the way of influence beyond Elwynn.

Though...my dream was always to start a little chapel in Westfall. Despite my being raised in the Cathedral, I always thought my life'd be simple too. Annabelle chuckled. And I'll admit, I -was- a coward.

Oh, come now. You are much braver than I.

No. No, I am not.

Oh, I've -grown- braver. But I remember the first time I met a troll...he frightened me to death!

As would a troll frighten me. Nasty creatures. Hmm...what exactly is it you are doing currently?

Annabelle sighed. ...one of our members is in some sort of trouble in Duskwood. She is my equal in rank and power. We both command one side of the group. She is a little more...militaristic than I am. I received a note from her, and we're currently getting together a stealthy group to check things out. See if it's a trap.

Indeed? Duskwood? Interesting...

We -think- the Circus hides out there. Though we've seen them in the Barrens as well.

I could see such a thing. It is a cursed place.

The problem is...I can't set foot one inside that place.

Ooh, scared of a forest. Coward.

I cannot imagine you would -want- to, though.

Annabelle nodded The thing is I'll -have- to go if they're there. I mean...I'm the leader. I can't send others in there if I'm too afraid to go myself.

Mhm.. Grimwood leaned forward. And what exactly are the terms of such a thing?

Annabelle raised her eyebrow. Terms of...what thing? Being the leader?

Why, the terms of the... His voiced lowered in volume. Duskwood incursion.

Annabelle nodded, lowering her voice as well. Oh, well...like I said I'm getting the members that are skilled in stealth to go investigate the place we think the captive is being held at. If she -is- there, then I and others will be contacted on the windstones, and we go aid them. If not-

Well, you know, Ms. Greene...I may be able to help. If you need somebody...on the inside. Grimwood frowned and adjusted his collar nervously.

-or if it's a trap, then we...what? She blinked. Edward, this is... She paused and shook her head. I know you are skilled, but I couldn't forgive myself if you got hurt.

Now, Ms. Green. I am a man, and quite able to take care of myself. I do believe I would be a valuable asset...

Suddenly, Grimwood 's mannerisms and accent changed dramatically, and a cold and flinty looks took over his face. I would gladly slaughter as many innocents as required to achieve my goals. None are my equal. He said with imperious venom. He dropped the facade and smiled. See? I can be quite the actor.

Annabelle chuckles. ...alright, I see your skill. But... She sighed and set the mug on the table. One of their 'initiation' rights I suppose is some sort of shadowy corruption. As far as I know it happens to -every- member.

Hmm? Every member? That cannot be right, what about those who are already 'evil'

Annabelle shrugged. All I know is I don't want to see shadow being stuffed down your throat. They enjoy injecting people with fel and tossing them away as well...

I believe I could do it. I feel...useless. I must make a difference. I an unhappy with my work, Annabelle. The people scorn me even though I keep them safe, and I'm slowly losing money.

She studied Grimwood. After a few moments she nodded slowly. ...alright, Edward. If...you really think you can. She smiled with a hint of sadness. She shook her head and put on a better smile.

Why do I feel like...you won't come back the same?

Very well. Where will I find one of them?

We've seen them alot around Ratchet recently... She pondered and tilted her head. At this, the inspector looked around. He peered at a rather fidgety and nervous sin'dorei. After a few moments, he shifted his gaze back to the ex-priestess.

Hmm...I don't see any suspicious types...

I don't see any of them here now, no.

Shall I start immediately? Perhaps I will go to Duskwood, in fact. That is where your friend is, correct? I should see about there...It's such a shame. Have you a mage? I do dislike boats...and I don't quite know how I would communicate with you however.

Still so practical, after all these months.

Yes, we do have a number of mages, though none are here at present. And we'd most likely use the windstones to communicate.

Windstones? Forgive me, I'm so terribly humble in comparison to you these days, you quite confuse me with your terminology.


Annabelle nodded and held up her left wrist. A simple leather band encircled it, and attached was a flat stone, seemingly worn smooth by water. On it was carved a shamanic symbol.

With this I can send my thoughts to any who holds another one of these. It's...like a radio almost.

That's...magnificent!

The best part is it's -only- attuned to use. The Circus can't use them and spy on us.

Very clever. Very well, shall I begin?

Annabelle took a breath and nodded

Grimwood exhaled and stood. She followed suit after a moment.

The inspector adjusted his hat. Well then... He clears his throat. I suppose we should find a mage, Ms. Greene.

The ex-priestess again studied Edward Grimwood, as if trying to ingrain his memory into her mind. She blinked, shook her head, then nodded and left the inn with him following.

Once outside, Grimwood took his hat off, holding it at his side. I will...see you soon, Ms. Greene. He gulped.

Just a moment, one more thing.

Annabelle held out her hand as if to shake.

Grimwood took her hand, cupping it slightly.

Suddenly, she smiled and pulled Grimwood into a friendly but tight hug. ...be safe, ok?

The proper inspector blinked at the sudden embrace, and patted the small of her back lightly. Safer than some, Ms. Greene. He muttered

She released him, then stepped back. She smiled and saluted him. The gesture still didn't fit her.

Grimwood bowed slightly. Be well, Ms. Greene. He said formally. He stepped past her, on his way to find a willing mage.

Violet eyes watched him walk away, then watched him still until he vanished into the portal to Stormwind.

Strange how things turn out...

[Jason]

(( I said tan, not light pink! For shame, c0rzilla! <3))

Edward Grimwood peers about the gray, eternally dusk entrance of the Catacombs with many feelings. Dread, foreboding, fear - or are those all the same thing? Regardless, they accentuate each other brilliantly in order to explain how exactly he felt at the moment. Edward was a brave man. He had proven that many times over; but what he was about to do was insanity. He was to enter the mouth of the monster. The heart of the beast. The mind of the miscreant - and then some. But he was prepared.

His frame was obscured by a black robe, his face likewise hidden by an ebony mask. Gloves covered his hands, and a black tome hung from his gasp. He'd almost dropped it as he'd seen the forsaken entering through the stone passage and into the catacombs. After several minutes and several prayers, he descended into the gloom, his steps light on the grayed stairs. His persona was complete. He was Deverious Helcember, Apprentice Shadowmancer and Avid Researcher of All Things Dastardly. He had derived the personality from a man who had once captured him and held him prisoner. A warlock coven headmaster, allegedly. Regardless, he was a perfect alias. Cold, brusque, with an intangible charisma. Hopefully sufficient to infiltrate the Circus.

He ascended the last step, right into the wake of a terrifying shade. He struggled to hide his fear as he met the shade's gaze and nodded, continuing on his way. To his great relief, it did not move to stop him. Edward looked about the tunnel-like hallway. Bones were scattered about at random, and the smell of corpses seemed to permeate the very walls. He was very glad he was wearing his mask. How the man- draenei? Why would a draenei be here, of all places? Grimwood puts on a dispassionate expression and approaches the draenei with an air of importance.

"Excuse me, draenei! I seek The Heretic Circus and a man named Sagi. Can you tell me where they dwell?" He inquires imperiously. He looks at Grimwood and frowns darkly.

"Top Hat." Was his only response.

"Excuse me?" Grimwood replied, genuinely put off.

"Call him 'Top Hat' while you are here. Down that way, to the right. The room with the glyph in front of the door." The Draenei says churlishly.

"Very well, thank you." Grimwood mumbles, shuffling off in the direction the out of place draenei had specified. His eyes shifted about as he walked, catching glimpses of all sorts of the wrong sort. Casters of evil magic, vagrants, thieves, murderers - unholy aberrations in the forms of ghouls and necromancers among them. Before his disgust showed, he looked back to where he was heading. He turned a corner, the purple, faintly glowing rune in question now quite visible.

He pushed the door slowly, hoping for a dramatic entry. There to meet him was a night elf with simple clothing and another draenei seated off to the left. Morally corrupt draenei couldn't be so common, could they? It certainly couldn't be the same one...

Sagi looks up at Edward skeptically, discontinuing the writing he was doing at the stone desk amidst the chamber of bunk beds, a long tables with scattered chairs, and bookcases. He sets the quill down and folds his arms over the table, looking down on Edward as he approaches the writing desk, which was remarkably reminiscent of a raven, though he couldn't quite understand why.

"Hello. Can I help you?" Sagi inquired politely, to the Inspector's distinct surprise.

"Certain things reach certain ears, and some of these ears find interest in the ideals expressed by your group. I am one of those ears. I seek to involve myself in your goals." Grimwood stated grandly.

Sagi "Top Hat" nods expectantly. "Very well. We have many positions open at the moment. Currently we are mainly divided between performers, show guards, and researchers."

Edward taps his chin, feigning thoughtfulness. "Well, I have never been a performer, and militant work is not my strong suit. Long have I been an avid scholar in the Dark Arts. I'm afraid I am not proficient at casting as of yet. I am still on theory and thesis. I expect actual spell casting to be reached within the year, however."

Sagi raises both hands in the air, inclining his head. "And a researcher you will be. We are currently working on two projects. The study of saronite and the development of plague."

Edward's mind races at the news, calculations, probabilities, and statistical anomalies racing through his consciousness at speed. After a few brief moments of thought, he stands erect, clapping his hands together. "I do think saronite would suit my studies well! I can start immediately." He exclaims.

"Good." He goes to a crate, extricating a small black bag and stepping forward, offering the bag. The Inspector hesitates only slightly before

"I will update you as soon as I make progress." Edward announces. Sagi nods once more, going back to his chair and sitting. He picks up the quill and continues his writing as Edward turns on his heel, walking to the doors. There were many things he would need to discover. He had to pore of the library in order to gain enough knowledge to establish himself believably. Frankly, he was terrified. He was certain he was going to discover things best left to the minds of madmen.

[Duraza]

Grimwood sat at a desk in the Catacomb's library, pouring over book after book. A small black bag with a sphere of saronite inside sat on the table as well but at a nice distance from himself and on the opposite side. Sagi walked down their stairs, the Kaldorei glancing past many of the other Catacombs residents, eyes landing on the human right away. Nodding to himself he strolled casually towards the man.

"Ah Deverious, how are things proceeding?"

Grimwood turned around, seeing Sagi behind him. He jumped a bit at his desk, not expecing the Kaldorei to be standing right over him. Regaining composure quickly, Grimwood replied, "Fine. I have found a great amount of information from the books in your library alone. This Saronite you study is qutie fascinating."

"Really? What have you learned specifically?"

Grimwood gathered a few notes together in a neat pile, handing them over to Sagi. As the Kaldorei took the papers Grimwood continued to speak, "A majority of my research has been on origin and usage of the metal. From the common things you might know such as the fact that Death Knights wear saronite to some advanced facts about working with the metal."

Sagi took a moment to move through a few pages of the notes before giving Grimwood a nod, "Amazing work Deverious. I expect more like it."

As Sagi turned to walk off Grimwood spoke out, "Actually sir! I was wondering if you wouldn't mind telling me more about this Blood Plague. I have skill in alchemy I think would be useful towards the project."

Sagi turned around, rubbing his chin for a moment before giving a slight nod, "Well, allow me to show you to the place where many of the materials have been gathered."

"Excellent!" With that the two traveled down into the lower floors where the Catacomb's lab was. They walked past many a table with researchers, working on bodies or on alchemical creations before finally reaching a table where many vials of blood were assembled and multiple other containers of different liquids.

"Our members went through multiple sources for this blood. You'll find just about everything from Centaur to Quillboar. It was definitely quite a fun bit of work earlier on." Sagi smirked, motioning with a hand, "Feel free to look through it."

Grimwood nodded looking through the vials. He walked around the table, taking careful notes on some of the things he saw. After a while he finally spoke, "So which one is the actual disease?"

"The real thing is kept by Gladstone. He has finished it but is still working on it every day, trying to make a few modifications and such."

Grimwood closed his notebook and put his pen away. "So then when do I get to start work with the real thing?"

"Perhaps in the future. Gladstone is very careful about the secret right now as am I. A few others know about it but none of them really know the work that has gone into it. Nor have we really explained much to them." Sagi chuckled lightly, "Not that I have all the answers. I'm an amateur at best when it comes to alchemy. I don't expect to ever get famous for my skills there. Frankly its not a very interesting art."

"Then for now Top-hat, where do you think my abilities will best serve you?"

"Perhaps if you're so interested in the Blood Plague you can study what is here to your hearts desire. Not much though I'm afraid. Gladstone has kept many of the key secrets with him. I know them of course but I can't just give them out now. Not until we are completely ready."

Grimwood gave a nod, "Very well Top-hat. I will do my best to understand what I can from what is presented." With that he got to work, taking more notes on what was present and careful observations.

Afterwards Sagi walked off, heading back to the upper floors as he left the human alone to business.

Hrm. I wonder if he could lend Gladstone any help... Still, the Blood Plague is a very tricky thing. I don't want to just hire anyone for it, no matter how eager. Not to mention Gladdy would probably be furious if I thought he needed help with anything.

Sagi grinned to himself as he continued to walk.

Gladdy furious. Always brings a smile to my face. Regardless, that man will no doubt lose it soon. Perhaps Deverious would do well in his place. He did say he was a studying shadowcaster after all. Could be helpful.

Sagi shrugged to himself and returned to his desk. He placed the stack of Grimwood's notes on it before starting to peel through them, page by page.

[Jason]

Necromancers beware, for as long as you practice this, our unholy art, you will soon join the ranks of those you command. The more a necromancer uses his necromantic powers, the more alike you will go unto the undead. Your animation will cease to be as fluid, your eyes will grow hollow and dull, and your complex-

Edward looks up from the book, blinking his eyes and running a hand over his sweating forehead. It was actually quite cold.

This was of no help to him. Why was he reading it? General knowledge, he assured himself. Wasn't it? He was expected to know these things. He must know them. His life depended on it.

Must he trade life for lucidity?

His fingers drum on the writing desk. After a few minutes he closes the book and pushes it away, moving over to another bookshelf at random and studying it critically. He spies a blood red tome and walks over to the nearest latter, setting it against the wooden bookcase and climbing deftly. He plucks the book from the shelf and runs his eyes over it. Another tome on demonology. What an expansive subject. He pushes it back in and reaches for a dusty leather volume of considerable girth, nearly falling from the latter as he extends his hand toward it. With it safely in his hand, he moves carefully down the latter, turning and opening the front cover of the book to descry it's title.

On Shadow - A Recollection, it read. Lovely. Edward walks with a measured pace to his former seat, stopping as an icy chill crawls down his spine. He hadn't been effected thus since he'd arrived. Now, something felt displaced, and Edward had never considered himself a courageous man.

What kind of evil do they keep in these cryptic passages? Edward thought to himself.

Interesting choice of words.

The world stopped in it's tracks.

Aren't we procreative.

Edward flies out of his chair, standing next to the table and pushing himself against the wall. He eyes the dark room with eyes wide, searching. Something detaches itself from the stone wall. A forsaken, drenched in shadow of his own making.

"Interesting choice of words." He smirked. He could read his thoughts? Edward shuts his mind off to outside influences. The forsaken tsks and shakes his head, grinning openly now as he paces diagonally toward the opposite corner. "My, my haven't we an interesting fellow. Falling apart at the seams, I can feel it. How are you learning?"

He jerks his head toward the exit, then back at the undead, provoking a wider smile from the shamble of bones.

"Learning?" He replied in a husky voice, having finally found the backbone to speak.

The forsaken male - as it appeared to be male, by all accounts - dips his head. "Good, goood. It's always good to have fledgling disciples in this, our holy city."

Holy- Grimwood cuts his thoughts off there, switching tact and straightening his collar. "Deverious, at your service." He announces to the rotting man.

"No. No, you are Edward. Edward, the Black, The Grim." He suddenly grows impassive and folds his arms. Edward Black Grimwood flicks his eyes back to the entrance. This was a perversion. His mind was his last safe haven from the world. How long had be been furrowing about in his mind?

"Only as long as I needed, Inspector. Only as long as I needed." The forsaken disappears in a flourish of shadow, then reappears not three inches from Edward's face, a sneer now dominating his festering features - causing his slightly dislocated jaw to gnash impishly. "And I'll give you as long as you need, Inspector. Only so long as you need so. I don't suppose you've heard, but there's disarray. This Circus has compromised us for much too long. In the times of our secret covens and communities, we coexisted with the rest of sentient life in relative peace.

"May I remind you of the havoc this Circus has caused? The fear it's put upon the people? Oh, you must think fear would be something we desire. Hogwash! Fear makes people desperate. Desperation makes people suspicious. Do you follow me, Inspector Grimwood? Or should I say Ex-Inspector." To Edward's surprise, the Forsaken's sneer grows even more pronounced than before.

He turns away and stalks to the entrance of the room, looking back. "Get what you need and leave. Two more days, no longer. Things will begin moving then. Mustn't delay, you understand? Two days." He exits the dark room, leaving Edward rigid where he stayed throughout the entire peroration.

Edward really never had considered himself a courageous man.

[Jason]

"There is nothing quite like the smell of death filling the air with a sickly sweet aroma as you sip noon tea."

Edward would already know who it was. One didn't need to turn around. Every word was a bullet in his skull. A hammer repeatedly jamming a nail deep inside his forehead. Or was that just a headache? Odd. He could almost see the revolver to his chi-

"Focus, you're drifting off again. As I was saying, there is nothing quite like it. It's...marmeladelic. Do you like that word? I just invented it. But it isn't a real word."

It then occurred to Edward that he was in fact looking at this forsaken. Had he been the whole time? That wasn't quite right. No, his attention had been focused on the nail as it explored the hidden crevices of his brain flu-

The forsaken leaps for the chair and locks Edward's head in an iron grip. "AND I CAN MAKE ANY DAMN WORD I WANT!" He was screaming in his face. He did know it was silly of him, but he could not correctly pin the right response to such an action. To substitute, he simply began laughing hysterically, causing the forsaken to draw back and sit with a placid expression. "You're farther gone than I'd thought." He says with an uncannily dry voice. He could have been talking to a stalk of dried grass. It was everywhere. Dried grass there. Dried grass there. There. There. Ther-

"PAY ATTENTION!" screams the decrepit thing. Edward decides he should do what it says. "And I'll have you know, there is no grass down here. That's human hair. Now where was I...ah, yes. Tea. I can't drink tea. But we're here to talk about saronite. Not finding much, are you? Allow me to educate you. It is the result of an acidic material that hardens into a metal of titanic strength. Sargeras himself could not shatter it. Thus, the Lich King began the plundering and forming of saronite ore, his mindless servants safe from it's debilitating will. Some say you hear the Death God himself." The man smacks his lips. Lips? Loose term. "Show some damn respect to your teacher. Now, let's get back to the original. Shadow magic. Tell me what you know."

Grimwood stares at the forsaken lividly. "Would you like an epitaph?" He grins a grin of teeth and madness. It's quickly taken away with a bony backhand to the cheekbone.

"Try again."

"Forgive me, my master." Edward clears his throat. "Shadow is...Divine?"

"More Divine than the Light, I say. The Light can heal all fine, but the healing is a lie. You're still dying inside. The Shadow doesn't lie to us. It gives us the bitter, loving truth. We're going to die, and we're going to love it! Look at me. I LOVED IT." He bursts into a fit of maniacal laughter, soon followed by Edward. He wasn't sure why he was laughing, but the bony man's enthusiasm was infectious as the plague. Maybe he did have the plague. Maybe Grimwood had the plague. Maybe he was the plague...

"You are a plague you disgusting bastard. Forgive me, that was rude." He didn't seem very apologetic. "We will start with the basics of summoning shadow."

"But...I don't need to know that." Edward offers weakly.

"What was that? No, no. You do. Are you a practicing shadowcaster or not?"

A wave of lucidity washes over him. "This...isn't my work. I don't do this. I follow the Light."

The old crow croaks with laughter, as if he felt pity for the former detective. "Edward. Mister Grimwood. This is who you are now. Don't you want to save dear Annabelle and all the others? All of your friends? Are you so selfish you will sacrifice NOTHING?!" The forsaken screams as he nears the end of his oration.

Edward draws himself upright. "Miss Greene is of a most respectable ki-"

"She's a whore and so was your mother! All of them, they're all whores! Begging for their next purse of gold. Vermin. The lot of them. We aren't prejudice amongst we forsaken, but I'll be damned if I wallow in their doctrine. Women can hack at people with a sharpened stick just as well as a child. Though we usually launch the children over the walls with a dose of plague..."

He gets up and strolls toward the left wall, seemingly lost in thought. Edward takes the time to count how long it takes for tunnel vision to kick in via intense staring.

"Now you see...most law-deviants have a problem with...subtlety. Now, Master Grimwood, our kind far outnumber the "good" stock. What we lack are those of honesty. Honesty and belief. Honest in their values, and faith in our guidance. Therefore, we cannot walk abroad with our titles firmly atop our heads. No, no... we require politics. Manipulation. You could be a fine criminal, Edward. You just have to understand that to be a criminal, means to no longer be a criminal. The moment you free yourself of such inhibitions, you may truly call yourself a man of dignity and pride. But now, onto the lesson. Hold you and thusly. Yes, like that. Now, invoke the will of The Shadow and use it's power for your bidding. Only if you faith is strong, and your intention correct, will you have the ability to do so. That is the true test."

He walks forward and stop in front of Edward. "The Light presses in from all around you, suffocating your soul and keeping you in check so they they can bleed you dry. Search within yourself, and find the inner Shadow this oppressive Light has cast!"

A strange feeling tears into Grimwood's mind, sending him to the ground. But where was the floor? The floor was gone! Or perhaps he was dead? The world solidified. He was back. But he was in Redridge? His father was standing over him, holding up an old sword.

"This, son, is a sword. It was my father's, and his father before him. One day I'll give it to you. Look at this sword, son. Do you see any nicks? Any dents? Never has this blade been used. It's as virgin as the day it came out of the forge. Son, this is our legacy. Do not ruin our legacy with malice and unjust action." He smiles, somehow retaining a countenance of stern fixation.

"Yes Papa." Grimwood replies. He was a child. So young...

His father pats his arm. "Now go play. We've thirty minutes, then we've got more work to do, and w-...cha-...res-" The words begin to become less comprehensible, the world drowning in a material waterfall and leaving Edward deaf. Before his eyes, his father's features twist into that of a rotting demon. The forsaken. He lunges forward and bites young Edward on the face, severing the nightmare and waking him with a startled cry, followed by repetitive sobbing.

His soul was tainted. Had it always been so?

[Jason]

Edward stares at the page. His little, short drawing. His writing. He scoured it. It's hiding in there - the key to his sanity. It was grinning at him and doing somersaults while laughing like a jester. It was his black hole. His Black whole. The key to the unsprung lock. The-

He chided himself again, shifting in his chair. He had caught himself doing this before. Sometimes he would go on as such for several minutes, firing quick shot metaphors and incoherent blasphemies like they were gnomish assault rifle bullets. Pewt pewt pewt pewt pewt-

Stop it.

He couldn't help realizing how ridiculous he was acting. He was chiding himself. As if part of his psyche had broken off and formed it's own nation - "Grimsania".

The two warred with each other. He won. Sometimes Grimsania did. Or was he Grimsania?

Perhaps he wasn't. He could be a visitor. An intruder.

Maybe he was Marsuvius. But that couldn't be right. Marsuvius was quite improper.

Then he decided if he was neither, he must be both. Why else would he care? If he had to choose -... he couldn't choose. Which was better? Edward or Grimsania? Light or Shadow? Awake. Asleep. Awake. Asleep. A-

Stop it.

There it is again. What did that mean? Awake. Asleep. Awake. Asleep. Aw-

Stop it.

Awake.

He rushes through the double doors. Double doors? Doors? Room? When had he been walking? He might have sworn he was sitting in a chair staring at the wall like a good child. He was a good boy. Always helped on the farm. Another door. Door? When- oh, right. He was still walking. No, running. Why couldn't he tell? He wasn't doing it. His limbs had come alive. They paid little attention to him. He decided to return the favor.

Awake. Asleep. Awake. Asleep. Awake.

Or was it the other way around? Stairs. These limbs were rather nifty. He didn't even feel tired from all the running. Off I go...ah. This isn't the catacombs. Why am I here? Oh. I'm in a man's house. There's the man! Now I'm charging toward him? There's a rifle in my hands! What am I doing with it? Who is that man in robes?

Edward continues, slowing to a fast walk. He stops at the doorway into the den of the manor, rifle raised. It was a nice rifle. Clean. Kept good. Shiny frame. Wooden stock. Bu-

Focus.

He focused. The man was small. Frail. Unnaturally thin. It spoke.

"Inspector...how lovely you would come to join me here." The voice was like a pit of snakes. Like a roast of coals. Like a sea of spurned wome-

"Quiet now, inspector. You must be c-"

"Shut it you! You get on out of my house, you hear?! Bloody lunat-" Edward yelled. No he didn't. Did he? No. That wasn't his voice. It was deep. Overly masculine, as if they spent much of their life building their muscle for vanity reasons. Too much eggjuice, too little vitamin C.

The frail man turns. Marsuvius. Or himself. He hadn't quite given up that argument yet. Regardless of who it was, he jerks his hand forward, causing Grimwood - no, the man. But he was the man? Yes. Or no. He was in the man. Co-pilot. All systems go. Check rear propeller. Launch in ten, nine-

Stop it.

The world blurs and turns scarlet. After a few moment everything clears, but just enough to see lazy shapes. Above, the hooded figure stands over me, petting a glowing object affectionately. He holds it close to my face. My muscles stop working. I stare into it.

"Sh, sh, ssshh," Marsuvius croons, "it's all right. You're just a little host for my friend here. Inspector, please meet me tomorrow at the entrance to the catacombs. Your presence as Deverious ends shortly."

Marsuvius puts a hand on Edward's face. No, the man's face. Or was it Edward's? No, he had just explained Edward was just us-

The world goes blank.

Edward jerks upright. He was at a writing desk. Sitting. The page he'd been scrawling over stares up at him. Staring into his soul.

Awake, asleep, awake, asleep, awake-

Dead.

Soon.

[Jason]

One two three four five six seven eight.

One two three four five six seven eight.

One two three four five six seven eight.

One two three four five six seven eight.

He'd told Edward to count to eight. How many times was that? He hadn't been paying it any mind. But he'd counted to eight. Where was he? He was always shambling. Must be why he was late. Shambling about. Must have hurt his ankle. But then, forsaken were rather rotten, weren't they? But he was different. Rotten, sure, but his mind was rather quick, considering it had a hole in it. But then, so did Edward. He wasn't sure who's was worse.

But there, he's arrived. Those awkward steps. One foot in front of the other, as if in pain. The tip of his blackened hood flaps in the wind at Marsuvius's brow. He'd brought a staff, and he was depending on it heavily. Something must have happened. Tragic.

And the look on his face, again; Pain. Utter pain. But he couldn't feel pain, could he? He certainly looked like he could. Some exceedingly oppressive passion seemed to rage inside of him. The looks of ardent saints hardly compared. No bishop could ever show the same dedication he'd shown to his ideals. Edward rolls his eyes. The ideals of a mad man. But if he was to be a proper madman, he would need to embrace such things. His ideas were pure heresy. The Church would have him killed for the things he preached. The Cult as well. Still yet, he pursued his beliefs with an ardor not felt by the most intimate of lovers.

Edward had his own loves. Investigation. Justice. Psychology. This wasn't such a hard stretch, was it now? Just another thing to add to the checklist. After all, why couldn't the Light and Shadow be the same thing? They both existed, didn't they?

Preposterous. As if-

Marsuvius was suddenly directly in front of him. He hadn't appeared there. Conversely, Edward had the feeling he'd been there for some time, studying him. Must keep a tighter reign on my thoughts...

"It's much too late for that. You're my thrall. Nothing much you can do to deny me at this point, so don't bother. It's annoying, frankly." Marsuvius grumbles, face still etched in a grimace.

"Er...sorry." Edward offers meekly. He'd never been known to be meek. It wasn't respectable.

"No, it isn't, in fa-" He stops, face hardened to stone and body rigid. Dead silence ensues in the pitch black depths of Duskwood. Edward responds likewise. Their eyes lock. Neither looks away.

"You're...hiding something from me." Marsuvius growls between clenched teeth. "How...is this. I felt a flicker. It was there. What are you hiding from me?!" His voice rose to a scream as he ended the question. Edward says nothing.

"Clearly, I've underestimated you. One so brilliant - mad, agreeably - would have found a way to circumvent my eye. Dastardly bastard, Inspector Grimwood, what have you been doing in there? Which part of you is still cracked and what little bit is hanging on, hmm? SPEAK!

"Linguistic lampposts linger lazily about the large, lackluster lane." Edward gasps. "That's all I have to say about that."

"Oh, do go on."

"Very well. Charismatic cacti find creative conundrums capriciously confounding. Care for more?"

Marsuvius stares twin holes into Eward's skull.

"As you wish. Preposterous Priests practice pratfalls in perfect p-" An explosion of light sends Edward to the ground, his world set aflame and his eyes blinded by fire. Every muscle in his body screamed as if worked to the limit, and his tendons felt close to snapping. Then everything went gray. No pain. Only gray. Then a blanket lifted, and he could see the forest again. The ground was so comfortable, he could sleep again...

A shoe digs into Edward's ribs, causing him to jerk.

"Try something like that again and I'll kill your family. D'you think they were being sneaky in Redridge? Stop crying, imbecile. It's not even a flesh wound. I've had enough of your idiocy. It is one thing to be mad. It is quite another to be a raving lunatic! You are not a comedian, Inspector Grimwood, you are a producer. You make things happen. You cannot do that whilst spouting alliterations! Soon you will have to rejoin your comrades. Too soon. Today, in fact! I expect you will be ready by then. Now - let us begin."

Then Marsuvius went about prying the idiocy from Edward's mind. A harder task than one might first think. He quizzed him on History, invaded his mind and poked about his thoughts, slapped him more than once...but progress was made. If only slight progress.

"You are still off your rocker, but passable for the time being. Just...try to keep yourself together. You may weep, but only slightly. If you break down into a bloody mess they might get the wrong - or right- impression on your mental state. Do you hear me, boy? Do not ruin this. It is crucial you play back into their hands. I will not accept deviation from my plans. I've already tied things up on my end, now it's up to you." Marsuvius turns to leave. He stops, looking back out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, and Edward? That was a wonderful trick, with the house. My associate, Mavier - he was rather surprised." He grins a grin of teeth and madness. So much madness. He then disappears in the trees. Which way was it back to the Duskwood border?