Emberage
07-04-2006, 03:05 PM
-The Dalaran Confession-
We made sure the investigation room was well lit, as the subject was terrified to have any amount of shadows. It took twelve candles before the distraught worker was willing to speak of what befell him and his late companion last afternoon in the ruins of Dalaran. I have edited out his stuttering as well as insignificant bouts of sobbing, for ease of this report.
At the prompting of the examiner, the honorable Mage Wellston, the Dalaran worker by the name of Harold Figby stumbled his way through the incident.
Wellston: Please, in your own words; would you tell us what happened? Take your time, we realize this is very tough, and we appreciate your cooperation in the matter.
Figby: Me and Ned Thomas ((note: it took some persuasion for the subject to state the name of his coworker)), we were just going on our break. The other boys were willing to take up the slack while we just nipped off to have a drink. Well, we always keep our flasks handy, see, but the sun was just beating down on us, and the Alterac winds were being stingy and there werent no breath of cool air. We just thought it would be a good idea to mill about inside one of the wrecked houses, just quick like... ((note: mentioning the house made the subject mourn loudly and rested his head on the table. It took several minutes of coaxing by Master Wellston to return to the account.))
Wellston: You went off to have a drink, which is completely acceptable, and you are by no account held responsible for what happened. If you are willing to, continue with the story.
Figby: This isnt no bloody story, Ill tell you what it is: murder. It was some gods bedamned greenskin, or a bloody tusked cannibal what did it. Or, Light be damned, it couldve been a rotter, sneaking in from their putrid forest. ((Note: quite a few expletives were removed from this part of the explanation. It was at this point that the subjects grief gave way to rage. Guards were required to subdue the subject so as not to hurt himself and the examiner.))
Wellston: Know that whatever or whoever has done this heinous deed will be found and punished in the name of the Light. However, the more we know about the occurrence, the better chance we have of finding the felon. Please, Mr. Figby, we require your assistance. Remember that this is not simply for your vengeance, but the Widow Thomas and her fatherless children.
Figby: Yes. For them. Ill do my best, sos they can get justice. Like I says, we found an old wrecked home to take a breather. It had its roof on though, so men Ned could keep in the shade. It was just on the edge of our schedule for this week, so we werent working on repairing it just yet. We went inside, toasted the Light together... oh gods, thats the last well ever have. ((Note: the subject became distraught once more, sobbing into his hands. It was at this point that even the boundless patience of Examiner Wellston was growing thin.))
Wellston: In order for us to create a viable study, your testimony will be vital. Please, try to hold yourself together for the sake of the investigation.
Figby: Right. Im sorry for tying you mates up, I know youre trying to help. Well, like I says, we went in and we drank a bit. Then Ned gets this idea in his head. He says, Hey, this houses not half bad, it isnt. Wont the lads be pleased to know theres one less thing to do next week, eh? He knew wed get to fixing it eventually, so he thought hed take a look at the beams, see if they were strong enough. He couldve just been wanting to stretch our break a bit, good lad.
Wellston: So you two separated?
Figby: He went upstairs, yes. Said supports can look good on the first floor, but if the ceilings weak, its not worth anything. So there I was, milling about, when I couldve sworn I heard something. I turned to the door, but I dont know, I guess the sun from the outside couldve blinded me I didnt see nothing. I shrugged it off, telling myself it was one of the rumblers passing outside. Never got used to elementals, but damned if I didnt think theyd do a better job of protecting us. ((Note: we noticed the subject becoming more irritated and placated him with a small drink before things got out of hand once again.))
Wellston: You thought something had entered the house you were breaking in?
Figby: I -thought- my imagination was playing tricks on me. I waited a bit longer, hearing Ned walking about upstairs, when something sounded wrong. It werent the slow step of a man checking girders, it were some off-beat step of a man falling and trying to catch himself, or... a man in a fight with someone else. ((Note: here he paused, his eyes raw with rubbing by this time.))
Wellston: And what happened then, Mr. Figby?
Figby: I did what any concerned friend would do. I called up to him. I was thinking to myself, maybe he found a rotted board and tripped. But then the clomping continued, and then I knew something was wrong. I... my heart caught in my throat as I realized there were a third and fourth step I was hearing. I called up louder, hoping that hed found some scrawny scavenger that took shelter, but again, there werent no answer but that Light bedamned stomping. I grabbed my hammer...
((Note: At this point, the subject burst into tears. We took a small break, as it was required to settle him down sufficiently to finish his story. We did not require a confession from the subject at this point in the tale to know what happened, nor did we require him to speak of his shame. His coworkers found him huddled in a corner of the house, hammer held in front of him.))
Wellston: Are you feeling well enough to continue? All we require now is what you saw of Mr. Thomas.
Figby: Ned. It sounded like he ran. He mustve ran to the stairs. But it got him. Whatever it was finished the job. He fell down the stairs in a heap. I dont... I rushed over... ((Note: communication broke down at this time. We noted all the broken phrases that will allow us to connect clues. Tabard cut... ribbons. Harp wire. Bleeding eyes. Blood everywhere. Green tinge. The examiner felt that all valuable information was found and prescribed milk of poppy to the subject.))
Wellston: We truly appreciate your aid, Mr. Figby. We understand it is no small task to go through the horrors of the other day, but feel assured we will find the killer and justice will be served. Your employers have seen fit to give you two weeks worth salary as well as that much time away from work. If you would see Apothecary Wilson, there ((Note: the subject suddenly raised his head and interrupted the examiner. There was a strange look on his face, one I can only describe as a seesaw of emotions, not being able to decide whether to laugh or cry.))
Figby: I had my back to the staircase. I wasnt even thinking about what was up there. I was looking down at Ned. I thought that maybe a drink would bring everything right, that Ned wasnt actually there. ((Note: It was a this time that he did, indeed, break into tears and started laughing humorlessly.)) They bloody stole my flask.
We made sure the investigation room was well lit, as the subject was terrified to have any amount of shadows. It took twelve candles before the distraught worker was willing to speak of what befell him and his late companion last afternoon in the ruins of Dalaran. I have edited out his stuttering as well as insignificant bouts of sobbing, for ease of this report.
At the prompting of the examiner, the honorable Mage Wellston, the Dalaran worker by the name of Harold Figby stumbled his way through the incident.
Wellston: Please, in your own words; would you tell us what happened? Take your time, we realize this is very tough, and we appreciate your cooperation in the matter.
Figby: Me and Ned Thomas ((note: it took some persuasion for the subject to state the name of his coworker)), we were just going on our break. The other boys were willing to take up the slack while we just nipped off to have a drink. Well, we always keep our flasks handy, see, but the sun was just beating down on us, and the Alterac winds were being stingy and there werent no breath of cool air. We just thought it would be a good idea to mill about inside one of the wrecked houses, just quick like... ((note: mentioning the house made the subject mourn loudly and rested his head on the table. It took several minutes of coaxing by Master Wellston to return to the account.))
Wellston: You went off to have a drink, which is completely acceptable, and you are by no account held responsible for what happened. If you are willing to, continue with the story.
Figby: This isnt no bloody story, Ill tell you what it is: murder. It was some gods bedamned greenskin, or a bloody tusked cannibal what did it. Or, Light be damned, it couldve been a rotter, sneaking in from their putrid forest. ((Note: quite a few expletives were removed from this part of the explanation. It was at this point that the subjects grief gave way to rage. Guards were required to subdue the subject so as not to hurt himself and the examiner.))
Wellston: Know that whatever or whoever has done this heinous deed will be found and punished in the name of the Light. However, the more we know about the occurrence, the better chance we have of finding the felon. Please, Mr. Figby, we require your assistance. Remember that this is not simply for your vengeance, but the Widow Thomas and her fatherless children.
Figby: Yes. For them. Ill do my best, sos they can get justice. Like I says, we found an old wrecked home to take a breather. It had its roof on though, so men Ned could keep in the shade. It was just on the edge of our schedule for this week, so we werent working on repairing it just yet. We went inside, toasted the Light together... oh gods, thats the last well ever have. ((Note: the subject became distraught once more, sobbing into his hands. It was at this point that even the boundless patience of Examiner Wellston was growing thin.))
Wellston: In order for us to create a viable study, your testimony will be vital. Please, try to hold yourself together for the sake of the investigation.
Figby: Right. Im sorry for tying you mates up, I know youre trying to help. Well, like I says, we went in and we drank a bit. Then Ned gets this idea in his head. He says, Hey, this houses not half bad, it isnt. Wont the lads be pleased to know theres one less thing to do next week, eh? He knew wed get to fixing it eventually, so he thought hed take a look at the beams, see if they were strong enough. He couldve just been wanting to stretch our break a bit, good lad.
Wellston: So you two separated?
Figby: He went upstairs, yes. Said supports can look good on the first floor, but if the ceilings weak, its not worth anything. So there I was, milling about, when I couldve sworn I heard something. I turned to the door, but I dont know, I guess the sun from the outside couldve blinded me I didnt see nothing. I shrugged it off, telling myself it was one of the rumblers passing outside. Never got used to elementals, but damned if I didnt think theyd do a better job of protecting us. ((Note: we noticed the subject becoming more irritated and placated him with a small drink before things got out of hand once again.))
Wellston: You thought something had entered the house you were breaking in?
Figby: I -thought- my imagination was playing tricks on me. I waited a bit longer, hearing Ned walking about upstairs, when something sounded wrong. It werent the slow step of a man checking girders, it were some off-beat step of a man falling and trying to catch himself, or... a man in a fight with someone else. ((Note: here he paused, his eyes raw with rubbing by this time.))
Wellston: And what happened then, Mr. Figby?
Figby: I did what any concerned friend would do. I called up to him. I was thinking to myself, maybe he found a rotted board and tripped. But then the clomping continued, and then I knew something was wrong. I... my heart caught in my throat as I realized there were a third and fourth step I was hearing. I called up louder, hoping that hed found some scrawny scavenger that took shelter, but again, there werent no answer but that Light bedamned stomping. I grabbed my hammer...
((Note: At this point, the subject burst into tears. We took a small break, as it was required to settle him down sufficiently to finish his story. We did not require a confession from the subject at this point in the tale to know what happened, nor did we require him to speak of his shame. His coworkers found him huddled in a corner of the house, hammer held in front of him.))
Wellston: Are you feeling well enough to continue? All we require now is what you saw of Mr. Thomas.
Figby: Ned. It sounded like he ran. He mustve ran to the stairs. But it got him. Whatever it was finished the job. He fell down the stairs in a heap. I dont... I rushed over... ((Note: communication broke down at this time. We noted all the broken phrases that will allow us to connect clues. Tabard cut... ribbons. Harp wire. Bleeding eyes. Blood everywhere. Green tinge. The examiner felt that all valuable information was found and prescribed milk of poppy to the subject.))
Wellston: We truly appreciate your aid, Mr. Figby. We understand it is no small task to go through the horrors of the other day, but feel assured we will find the killer and justice will be served. Your employers have seen fit to give you two weeks worth salary as well as that much time away from work. If you would see Apothecary Wilson, there ((Note: the subject suddenly raised his head and interrupted the examiner. There was a strange look on his face, one I can only describe as a seesaw of emotions, not being able to decide whether to laugh or cry.))
Figby: I had my back to the staircase. I wasnt even thinking about what was up there. I was looking down at Ned. I thought that maybe a drink would bring everything right, that Ned wasnt actually there. ((Note: It was a this time that he did, indeed, break into tears and started laughing humorlessly.)) They bloody stole my flask.