[Reports] Investigating Vesper

[Tom Rook]

Father Siegfried,

Though so late in the evening that even the forest giants slumber, I write to you with troubling news indeed that I feel may only confirm the suspicions you have seen fit to confide in me over these recent months.

Well aware the Vesperian drinking hole known as 'The Swaggers Inn' is rife with the dregs of society, I saw fit to investigate the late night clientele as only a night Watchman stirred within the Baronship. On my approach, I pressed my back to the corner of the wall and peered round to see two females in my sight. Though they did not speak their names unto each other, as the night progressed I was able to gather an accurate portrayal of both females:

It was moments after my silent arrival that the Vesperian female, who from her attire I can only come to the conclusion that she is a member of staff at The Swaggers Inn, offered to show the paler of the two her home. Cautiously I followed the pair into a residence not too far from the North East of the Preceptory. Though I had yet to see anything that would cause me to believe either of them were somehow involved in wytchcraft, I feel what I discovered hereafter may be of interest to you. As I followed them along the coast, the pale woman lept on a rat scurrying by, brought it to her mouth and to the disgust of myself and the Vesperian female, put it between her teeth and sank into it. On recognising the Vesperian woman's disgust she discarded the vermin, and proceeded to clean the blood on her hands with her own tongue.

As the Vesperian offered hospitality to the younger female idly once within the building, I managed to creep around the premises to a bookcase, by the side of which a book lay half open. The book was signed in numerous places by a female named 'Amarante' of the Vesperian Trading Company, and contained nothing but highly descriptive positions of sexual perversion, complete with 'pros' and 'cons' of each, and a signature of approval from the author. I will spare your eyes from such filth, but suffice to say I might perhaps even be quite lax in what I describe to you herein. The Vesperian who seemed to reside there did not have a ring on her finger.

It was at this point I decided I would take my leave and report back to you with my findings, but as I got to the door the Vesperian female came under minor assault. Crawling under the nearby table to watch in secret, I witnessed the Vesperian struggle to have the pale woman unhand her finger, as she seemed to suck blood from a minor cut. The pale woman's eyes began to glow red, and she sank into the corner of the room, huddled in a ball crying to herself.

Foolishly, the barmaid comforted her; weakened by Compassion I can only assume, Father. As the females embraced each other, I noticed from my observation place that the pale female was now sinking her teeth into the neck of the barmaid! A vampyre, Father, witnessed by my own eyes.

Fearing the barmaids safety I reached for my sword and buckler, crawled out from the table and confronted the vampyre, successfully freeing the female and advising she fled the house. At this point the vampyre let out an ear-piercing shriek that caused me some deal of unease, but moments later I swung my buckler-arm back, and delivered a concussive bow to the fiend's temple, causing her body to slump against the wooden flooring.

At this point I fled the home, having ensured the safety of the barmaid and sprinted through the woodlands back to Cove, where I now address this letter to you.

Father Siegfried, from this low-scale, late night glimpse of what goes on beyond the Covian boarders, I truly believe that Vesper holds many more dark secrets that, if investigated may well give the Clergy all the evidence they require to call a crusade on this self-proclaimed heretic town.

Yours Sincerely,

[Siegfried]

As the Templar read over the report, his eyebrows furrowed regularly, and well defined forehead crinkles slotted into their usual placement of alarming disapproval.

Rolling the report back up, he began to write on a little tag he had attached to it, beginning "For the immediate attention of Captain Raiden Morana..."

Extending the report in his hand to the youthful Squire stood patiently before him, the Templar spoke, "Deliver this report to Captain Morana directly, and tell any Wytch Hunter thou doth see on thy journey that they shouldst continue to investigate Vesper, and report anything suspicious to me at once."

As the Squire left the office obediently, the Templar sat back in his stone chair, touching the arched tips of his fingers together.

"A storm, this way comes...", he muttered quietly to himself before gazing out of the window on his left, towards the town of Vesper.

[OOC: The reports above and below are for the reader's out of character enjoyment, and should not be treated as in-game information.]

[Tom Rook]

Father,

My apologies for so few reports as of late, but if truth be told, that would be due to there being nothing to report. I have ventured to Vesper on many evenings now and on all accounts have not seen a soul. This evening though, perhaps my report might stirr some interest as I saw a few individuals from the Militia patrolling around, and no less than Captain Esca Flowne himself.

From the shadows where I watched them all in turn, I observed the following:

   

I hope this information is not already known to you Father and that I am not merely wasting your time... As you can see from my descriptions and sketches of the individuals above, the Captain's actions must clearly be influenced by Baphomet, who is kept forever at his side - I would dare so far to say that the Captain is but a puppet, in league with Guardian himself who controls the Captain at the tug of a string. One man seems simple enough; the other however, is an elf.

Yours Sincerely,

[Tom Rook]

Father,

Activity in Vesper seems to be on the rise. When I was lurking around earlier I could see the Captain leading six or seven conscripts on a quest of some sort - They were too fast for me to follow in the shadows, but I encountered another militiaman whilst waiting for the rest to return:

On their return, I sought out the Captain and posed as an orphaned carpenter's apprentice from town called Paul Ashwell, fed up of not doing my bit and fighting on the front line for Vesper's freedom. The Captain merely asked me if I could fight, and having said I could, placed a uniform in my lap and handed me a badge for 'Militia Partisan'; a raw recruit I believe.

The wytch claimed he had more paperwork to attend to - No doubt learning more dark arts or conjuring beasts from the abyss to command him further. Before he left, he gave me the keys to the militia headquarters and kindly revealed to me the location of his office, in which I shall attempt to snoop around in at a later date.

Until then however I will mingle amongst the peasants and rough, boisterous soldiers and report anything further to you. I must go for now Father, I write to you from atop a bunkbed, from which I believe the gentle candle light stirs the men in their sleep.

Yours Sincerely,

"Paul Ashwell", Militia Partisan.

[Tom Rook]

Father,

This morning I woke to find I had not been stabbed in the night, having had my cover blown. Instead I woke to the round of my 'comrades' donning their armour and making their way out of the dorms for early morning patrol duties. I myself, as the 'new and inexperienced' recruit opted to stay behind on lookout at 'The Swaggers Inn', in hopes that I could uncover some evidence. Unfortunately as I arrived there I was greeted by a female called Rebecca, or "Becca" as she prefers. I soon discovered that she was the manageress of the Inn, and so I was unable to snoop further and instead chose to engage her in conversation in hopes of discovering more.

What I found was that she has concerns of a rival tavern known as 'The Rose' in Trinsic, apparently near something called "the elven quarters" which I can only assume would make blighting the place much easier. All nicely together in one sector... As well as the Swaggers Inn, this 'Rose' is a popular hangout amongst the dregs of society.

Her tongue was so loose as to let slip that amongst the harlots behind the bar, she also knows of contacts of unsavoury people referred to as 'Hitmen'. Perhaps the man known as "Kiran" is amongst them?

Yours Sincerely,

[Tom Rook]

Father,

Managing to slip away from my post briefly, safe in the knowledge that all others were out patrolling the borders, I recalled what the Captain had told me last night about the location of his office and promptly went to investigate.

Unfortunately I was unsuccessful in uncovering anything of value. It seems the Captain keeps everything under lock and key. I'd not go so far to say that he's smarter than he looks. How smart can a Wytch be? Not smart enough to realise what an abomination he is, and that he is not welcome in Britannia, it seems!

Yours Sincerely,

[Tom Rook]

Father,

I write to you this evening following the Vesperian 'Ironman' Tournament disguised as a frail wandering healer, the prize for the victor is the following axe I have sketched for you, no doubt imbued with some form of Wytchcraft:

The following individuals, who I hath not seen before were in attendance:

The crowd were as primitive and barbaric as I did expect, perfectly fitting and at home in Vesper, chorusing for blood before the Vesperian wytch had chance to announce the contestants. The man sketched in the top right appears to be a wytch, I will keep my eye on him on your behalf, Father. Commander Morana, one of his Grenadiers, and a Scout who I do not recognise were also in attendance, participating in the bloodshed. The scout made it to duel for third place, but was crushed by the Wytchling, whose name I've learnt to be "George Webster".

The final was between Commander Morana, and "Jhonas Adraldor" of Vesper, 'Brother of previous Ironman Garrick Adraldor', the victor was:

I will keep a close eye on the new 'Ironman', and see if I can recover that weapon for your observation.

Yours Sincerely,