On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

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72nd Zi'da, 716
"Oh we missed a lovely festival, here." Arm in arm with him as they made their way to the Guard Station, Faith explained the festival which one of the other green cloaks of the Order had explained to her. "The twelve trials of Zi'da they call it and you exchange gifts for twelve trials. Not expensive gifts, but each trial has a theme and has to be specific to you. Meaningful. So, it's things like something to symbolise your past, your future, the earth and sky. It sounds romantic and sweet and lovely." She smiled, leaning herself against him briefly and hugging herself close to him. "Maybe we should come back next arc and do that. It would be nice. I don't mind though, I don't care where we are, as long as we are there." It was completely true and she could not deny it for a moment. She had thought that she would feel overwhelmed or unnerved or something, anything about being away from Andaris. But actually, as soon as they were off the island, Faith had realised that she felt different.

Not better, exactly, but more free. It was ridiculous, she knew, but no one here knew her as a slave. With the continued fading of her brands and, by now, the total disappearance of the other scars her body had borne, she had no visible trappings of what had been her life. Because she knew that the psychological scars were fading, too, it was even more meaningful. At first, she'd thought that a lifetime of slavery had not impacted her psychologically, that she had simply been who she was and it had been what it was. Now, as she changed and she experienced so many new things, she knew differently. She'd thought about it a lot on the way here, considered it with care and she'd come to the only conclusion which made sense to her. Here, they were free to be themselves, not held down by the past or what had been. No one recognised them as anyone other than who they were now.

Which was evidenced, too, by the reaction of the Lightning Knights to the pair offering to help. They got there, gave names and so on and explained that they might have some skills which would be of assistance. Her job was as a seamstress and, she assured the knight in question that a lot could be told from the way that people sewed things. It was as different as handwriting. His job was an alchemist, and they questioned him on if there might be things he could do which would aid.

Then, once the knights were sure that they were who they said they were, they were let into a room. It was a plain room, just a table in the middle of it, on which were two scarves and some clothing. There was a Lightning Guard in there with them and Faith looked with interest. Moving in, the young guard who was accompanying them spoke.

"Two of the scarves, in case you can cast any light." That comment was directed to Faith. To Padraig, he said "Also, the clothing which might give you some clue as to where they were kept, what happened to them for the trials between them going missing and us finding them. Our medics tell us that they were kept alive until they were dumped, so there might be clues in the clothes."

Both their escort, and the knight already in there, stayed. Faith moved to look at the scarves and she spent some time examining them carefully. She waited to speak until after Padraig had finished looking at the clothing, but then she explained. "Whoever made these is left handed. Look at the way the stitches slant, it's a dead giveaway. Also, they're new, they haven't been used before. The thread is stil even, you see? When we get repairs come in to the shop, we have to check all over, because things that have been used have pressure put on them in different places each time they are used. So the thread gets worn, unevenly, the more something is used. These, it's new." She looked at Padraig and a frown creased her brow, because whilst she was sure of the first two, she was less so of the last thing she said. "And I think they were made in a shop. The cut is very good, but also the hems are tiny. They seem to be made for maximum profit. If I was making this for the shop, I'd make it like this. But if I was making it for you, I'd make it better. Whoever made it is good, no doubting it, but they've opted for profit not care." It wasn't a judgement, so much, because she did exactly that in the shop. It was what Alfonse, her boss, expected. Maximum profit for minimum outlay, after all.

The guard with them raised an eyebrow at her words, but he made some notes on the parchment he carried with him. "You're sure, miss?" He didn't sound unkind, or even uncertain, but more like he had to ask.

"I'm sure of the first two, yes. That they might have been made in a shop? Not sure, but relatively so, yes."

"Would you recognise others made by the same person?" It was the logical question, in fairness. She'd seen their blank faces when she'd pointed out the slant of the stitching and the size of the hem. Men.

"Yes, I believe so." Faith looked at Padraig apologetically as she replied.

The guard nodded his head. "What about you, sir? Find anything?"
word count: 969
"Every evil has its good, and every ill an antidote."

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On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

Helping to track down a serial strangler, a killer of women, wasn't exactly Padraig's idea of a romantic getaway. But the prospect was a fascinating one, nonetheless. And it happened that both he and Faith might have a few skills and knowledge that might be of use in that regard. Given her new connection to the Order, it seemed only right that they should offer their assistance. If it was wanted.

The fact that she wanted to, was enough for him. He'd noticed the changes in her as soon as they'd climbed aboard the boat that had carried them away from Andaris, away from most of what she'd known before. It had been subtle at the start, but from what he'd observed, it appeared as if a weight of sorts had been lifted from her, and she was learning to breathe freely again. As what had been their home had slipped out of sight, so did the trial by trial reminders of what she'd once been.

The sense had only grown stronger the closer they'd come to Rharne. And Padraig had been proud of her, and felt privileged to be watching the changes come over her. "It's a shame to have missed the trials of Zi'da," he agreed. "But you know, we're free to wander wherever you like, as long as you like. There's always next arc."

While the Lightening Knights seemed surprised that they'd offered their help, and skeptical too, Faith was right. Each of them might have something to contribute which could conceivably help in tracking down the killer. He was an alchemist, yes, he told them. A chemist and a physicist too. Which meant that he was accustomed to working with all sorts of substances, compounds and materials both naturally occurring and man made, and might be able to identify traces of them, were they allowed to view and handle the evidence.

Once the knights told them what they knew already, and while Faith examined the scarves, Padraig had a look at the clothing that the two women had been wearing. He examined not only the outside of the clothing, but the inside and the seams. He could see that in both cases, the garments had been mended sometime in the past. Probably not by someone possessing Faith's skills. If they had been, someone like himself with no background in sewing would have failed to see the puckers and small patches.

He didn't just look at the stuff though. He raised it to his nose and smelled it too, scraped in places with his thumbnail and lingered over those tasks a little before speaking up. "I'm not sure if it says anything about who he's choosing as victims. It might be just a coincidence but I can smell stale, faint traces of perfume at the necklines and cuffs. Both seem to have a woody, floral scent. Not the cheap stuff either, that wears off after a couple of breaks." He'd worked at an apothecary for a while, he told them, and had learned to recognize the differences between cheap and expensive perfume.

It struck him as curious though that the clothing didn't appear to be expensive, and it was worn and mended. But whoever these women were, they'd spent a little bit more on their choice of perfume. "There are other things too. Here, on the sleeves, there are oily patches that If I was to wrap my hand around them, might have come from the pads of my fingers. As if I'd grabbed someone by the arm and left traces of something oily behind. I'd suspect these patches appeared after the women were taken and not before. They ought to have come out through laundering. But left to set, they probably wouldn't."

"It's very faint," he said after he sniffed one of the garments again. "But it smells a little like fish oil. The stuff that sardines are packed in." Maybe the killer had a liking for sardines? "And lastly, there's this," he added and showed both Faith and the knights several spots on each of the garments. "There's a tiny fragment of straw, no, two, caught in the weave near the hem. And there's trace remnants of what appears to be old, dry manure." He'd worked with the stuff often enough to know the look and scent of old manure, due to his work with explosives.

"Old enough to have dried and turned mostly to dust. But it's there at the hem, and at what might be the knees, as if the women were kneeling or moving about on their knees at some point during their captivity." He could only suspect, not having viewed the victims and said so, that it might mean their feet were tied together for some time before they were killed.

"There must be dozens of abandoned stables or other buildings where horses or other animals were once kept in the area. But given the presence of what I believe is naturally composted manure, the women may have been hidden away in on one of them at some point," he suggested.
word count: 889
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On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

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"We have responsibilities back in Andaris" He had harboured dreams of going to the University since she had known him and, now that he could, she wasn't going to be the one to stop him. "It's nice to travel though, isn't it? We should try and do more, if we can." Besides, he seemed to be enjoying it. From the moment that they were aboard the ship he had been more relaxed, she thought, than she'd seen him in a long time. Like a weight was lifting as he grew more comfortable and less tense. It had been a tough season for him, she knew, and maybe this time away was just what he needed, what they both did.

In truth, Faith was a little surprised that he had agreed to take up the call to help; it wasn't like they knew anything about the place or the people. For whatever reason, though, he had and she was pleased. It was something they could do and it would be a service to the people of Rharne. As always, she did what she did out of a deep devotion to Famula and she saw it very much as Famula's work. Her prayers to the Immortal was heartfelt; she would do this and do it to the best of her ability in Famula's name. She was, as always, her humble servant and this would be in service to her. Her life was so blessed that she was now able to do this sort of thing, and to do so with this man. She grinned up at Padraig as she answered him. "And anyhow, it's just a ploy by the market stall owners to get you to part with your hard earned nels. Romance doesn't cost anything and isn't themed, I'm sure. It did sound lovely though." She shrugged, bumping against him, quite content to be walking with him and aware of her own contrary nature.

In the guard station, though, they got to work and Padraig explained what he had found out about the clothing. She glanced at the bit that was mended and nodded. "Whoever mended that blouse was not the same person as the one who made the scarf. No connection there." Listening to what he said, though, caused her to pause. So, either the killer was dressing the women, or spraying perfume on them? Those two options seemed the most likely, and would need to be ruled out first, she thought. "Are the bodies still here?" She didn't think Padraig was going to like the idea of going to see them, but Faith knew that there was a lot to be learned. "I would like to see them, if possible?"

The guard shook his head "No, miss, the bodies have been burnt already" A shame, as far as Faith was concerned, less so Padraig, she rather suspected. "I can get you the doctor's notes, though?"

Faith nodded her head and smiled reassuringly. The guard seemed unsure, and why wouldn't he, when a seamstress was asking for medical notes and dead bodies? "I am a healer in the Order of The Adunih. Up until a half-arc ago, I worked as an undertaker and assisted in the medical examinations of dead bodies. I also sew." She explained with a smile.

The guard quirked an eyebrow, glanced at Padraig in some strange male solidarity thing and left. Faith smiled at Padraig and commented "I think he feels rather bad for you living with someone so morbid. It's a shame about the bodies, we could have learnt a lot. But if they take the correct measurements and so on, then we should still know whether the clothes fitted them properly." She looked down at the clothing and frowned. "Would we be allowed to take samples, do you think? Could you find out more if we did?" She wouldn't dream of doing so unless they were allowed to, but if they were and he could discover extra information from it, then that would be something to offer.

It was a few minutes they waited, during which time Faith double checked that the clothes and scarf were not made by the same person. She was convinced they weren't, but refrained from every small detail which told her so. "We should have brought a notebook. We could sketch these and make notes of key points in case it's needed." Definitely something to pick up as soon as they could and get the notes made on this, so that they didn't forget small details.

When the guard came back in, he wasn't holding any notes or a notebook, but he had an air of tension about him which was immediately recogniseable. Looking at the two of them, he spoke in a much more businesslike, curt tone than he had. "There's been another murder. She's just been brought in. Our doctor is here, he has agreed for you to assist." Faith looked at Padraig, aware of his squeamishness about such things, but the reality was this was too good an opportunity to miss. She wanted to say yes and not hesitate, but she waited for him to answer.
word count: 883
"Every evil has its good, and every ill an antidote."

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On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

What responsibilities did they have back in Andaris, that they couldn't carry out anywhere else, Padraig had wondered. He could study anywhere there was a university or library, or as easily, grow his book collection and study through reading and experimentation. If they ran short of funds, they could pick up odd jobs or more regular ones anywhere they decided to remain a season or more. There would always be a home in Andaris to return to if they wanted. Or they could choose to make another, anywhere else they chose.

But it was a strange sort of irony that as soon as they'd arrived, hoping for some semblance of a romantic getaway, they'd become involved in a murder investigation. And yet it proving interesting already, and Padraig didn't object. It made sense to him that the clothing the women had been wearing when their bodies were found, and the expensive perfume each had been wearing, just didn't line up.

Was the scent of the perfume similar enough between the two, to have been from the same bottle? He gave it another sniff, and concluded that it could be. But it was also possible that it was a matter of similar tastes, and the scent presented itself differently depending on the wearer.

Impossible to tell however, as Faith pointed out, without knowing how well the clothing had suited the women. In that way, they might begin to put together a puzzle that so far, they'd only three pieces for. The clothing, the perfume and the scarves. The oily residue on the sleeves, maybe. And a possible type of location. There were plenty more pieces missing. All the more a shame that the bodies had been burned.

But the glance the guard shot at him, earned one in return along with a slight, wry grin. Morbid? Considering the knight didn't about his beloved's worship of the Immortal of Death, or of 'Doom and Gloom and Romanticus Interruptis' as Padraig liked to think of it, then he didn't know the half of it. Ghosts included. Better not to say so though, not out loud. "If I can take a sample of cloth from the sleeves," he said when Faith asked him, "I may be able to use my equipment to help identify the oily substance." It was no guarantee, but it was a simple process and could end up revealing a critical piece of information.

The knights seemed agreeable to them taking small samples with them. Padraig had been somewhat surprised initially, but maybe between the two of them, he and Faith had convinced them they might be of real help to the investigation. As for the rest, Padraig had hoped for at least a few sheets of paper and a pen, if not a notebook. But it appeared when the knight finally returned, he'd something better to offer. Well, relatively speaking. Faith was probably more enthusiastic about the opportunity to view a new victim than he was.

He was squeamish about that sort of thing and he wouldn't deny it. But what they might learn in the process of assisting the doctor, or more specifically what Faith might learn, could be critical. And so he agreed.

They were shown into a small room, mostly dimly lit except for a collection of lamps arranged around a long narrow table in the middle of the space where the body of a young woman was laid out under a doctor's watchful eye. The man himself was tall, taller than Padraig, and fairly young. Prematurely thinning blonde hair, a hawkish nose and round spectacles. He wore a leather apron but it didn't conceal the fact that he was rail thin. Too thin, as if he regularly forgot to take his meals, and his complexion was pale from too much time spent indoors. Another table was nearby with a variety of medical tools on it.

"This is doctor Arnicus Black," the knight said as he showed Faith and Padraig in. "Doctor Black, these are the two I told you about." The young man looked up from the body, stared at them both with unblinking eyes for quite a few trills, and then nodded, as if he'd been sizing them up. "Come in, come in," he said. "I'm just getting started. I understand that at least one of you has some experience with this sort of thing."
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On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

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There was no bother with taking the samples, so she helped him with that and didn't comment on the fact that he had not replied to her regarding the guards apparent sympathy for him, living with such a morbid woman. He didn't know the half of it, she considered and she smiled at Padraig with a slight raise of her eyebrow but said no more. Helping him get the samples and collecting them as carefully as possible, she lifted one to her nose and sniffed, getting the scent for the perfume. She lowered her head back to the work but spoke in a serious, quiet tone. "If we had a dog, you know..." She said no more than that. Didn't need to, she reckoned and left it there, but the gleam of amusement in her eyes told him all he needed to know. As they were led out of the room, she briefly held on to Padraig's hand and squeezed. This wasn't at all his cup of tea, she knew and yet he was willing to go along. Her smile at him was grateful, but she didn't say anything right at this moment.

They were shown in to the room where the doctor was and Faith smiled in greeting. "It's nice to meet you, Doctor. My name is Faith, this is Padraig. Yes, I'm a medic with the Order of the Adunih and have previously worked as an undertaker, where my duties included examining the bodies of the dead for the cause of death. I'm grateful to help, thank you for letting us in. Could you make notes, Padraig, please?" That would give him something to focus on, he would have somewhere to look and it would allow him to be doing something at the same time. She thought that would be the sort of thing that he would like. Plus, there was parchments and pencils right there, so he could at least doodle and pretend.

So, then they moved over to the body of the woman. Everything about Faith changed in those few steps. She lifted her hands to pull her hair back and she looked down at the woman. She was silent for a moment as she prayed for the soul of this woman, that Famula take her and that her journey be swift and beautiful. Faith placed her hand above, but not touching, the woman's forehead as she prayed, closing her own eyes and dedicating the care of this woman in death to the Immortal she adored. "She's maybe mid twenties. On the thin side of average weight. Five foot six, approximately, without a measure. Brown hair, but dyed." Faith had not touched the woman yet, the young doctor looked at her with a slightly quirked eyebow as she seemed quite so at home in his room. She didn't notice, instead lowered her head, next to the woman's and she spoke to her. It didn't seem at all a strange thing for her to do and she didn't consider that either of them would consider it such. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. We are going to take care of you now, and it might seem like it's invasive or strange, but we've got to find who did this to you. We will do no more than we have to, I promise you." She looked at Padraig and gave a slight, tight-lipped smile. "Her clothes fit and she has the same perfume. Her hair is dyed and recently." Faith had lifted up her hand and stroked the woman's hair. She held out her hand to show him the dye which had come off on to it. "It's much harder to dye hair than it looks. This is within the last few trials and done by someone who doesn't dye hair often. After she was taken, I'd say. There's stain on her scalp, you have to keep your head still to stop that." She looked at the doctor, as though remembering he was there and he simply gestured for her to continue.

Faith moved to look at the neck and she sighed, letting out a small noise as she did. "The scarf was made by the same person. Left handed. She's been strangled, but not by the scarf." The doctor, who had maintained that the other women had been, moved in and looked. "Look - it's just that his hands are big. It's easy to miss, but it's too wide for it to be the scarf. We're looking for someone with big hands. He's strong." Faith wasn't looking at the doctor, but the frown on his face was one which told a clear story. He'd gotten it wrong in the others, had believed they were strangled by the scarves. Faith closed the woman's eyes and looked at the doctor and Padraig, then. "I need to undress her. You two should leave, she wouldn't like it if you saw her. Doctor, would you share your findings with Padraig please, from the previous victims whilst you're out there? Thank you."

It wouldn't be fair to say that the doctor was happy with this, but equally, he went out. Assuming Padraig went with him, he raised an eyebrow and said, with a smile which was genuine but showed that he felt more than a little harrassed, "Is she always like that?" However, he would and did talk through the notes that he had on the nature of the assault, the cause of death ~ which he had written as strangulation by scarf but which he admitted was probably more accurate as strangulation by hand ~ the description of the women and so on. Padraig had the chance to ask him any and all questions, whilst Faith quietly anointed the body to Famula, collected samples from underneath her fingernails and toenails, clothes, hair and skin, labelled everything carefully and then put one of each sample in her bag, putting the rest in order on the tray. She examined the woman, speaking to her constantly, telling her what she was doing. Padraig could hear her quiet voice speaking, though it was far too muffled to make out what she was saying. It was nearly a break later that she came out and smiled, although Padraig knew her well enough to know that she didn't mean it.

"I've written everything out for you. I don't know your rituals here but I've taken samples of everything. They are following your system and in the order you usually do them. I've taken one sample of each, the guard has allowed us to do that. She's washed and dressed. Thank you, Doctor." Slipping her hand into Padraig's she smiled up at him. "Let's go sit somewhere, have something to eat and organise our notes? Maybe back to our room?"
word count: 1174
"Every evil has its good, and every ill an antidote."

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On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

Faith's quirked brow, as to things morbid or no, didn't pass him by. But she was well aware that no matter how much Padraig admired her capacity for devotion to her Immortal of choice, it nonetheless unsettled him time to time. No need to say so in mixed company.

So given permission to collect whatever samples they wanted, he'd carefully remove patches of what he wanted from the scarves, the sleeves on the dresses and while he was at it, he'd take a sample of what he believed was composted manure near the hems and around the knees.

"I think the cat is enough for now, don't you think?" he'd whispered back as they'd followed the guard into the examining room. Viewing and examining dead bodies wasn't his cup of tea. She was right about that. But a new victim, still in her clothing and as close to how she'd been found as could be, would surely offer up more clues than they'd been able to uncover thus far.

And while the doctor seemed less than enthusiastic about having his lab taken over by another healer, he was also reasonable enough to agree that if Faith could uncover things that he and the guards had not, then it was well worth the blow to his ego.

Meanwhile, his offered a greeting of his own and was more than happy to take notes, and to observe from a distance. If Arnicus Black was somewhat taken aback by Faith's ongoing dialogue with the woman on the table, and found it strange, Padraig at least wasn't surprised. It was fascinating too, but most of his attention by necessity was focused on recording the details she was supplying. Every observation, he wrote down in the small book he'd been given, and he placed marks by each of those things that gave rise to other questions. It surprised him too, not just the doctor, to discover that the woman hadn't been strangled with the scarf. What were the scarves then? A fetish of sorts?

But he no more wanted to be in the room when Faith undressed the body, than she wanted him there. So he was happy to step out into the hall where he could question the doctor about some of the details. The recent dying of the hair was first on his list. Did the other women have brown hair? They did, Arnicus confirmed. In fact, when pressed, he'd reveal that they were of similar age, height and weight, even eye color and all of an average appearance.

The others however, had seemed to come by their mousy brown hair naturally. Which caused Padraig to frown again, and make a note beside the comment. It seemed clear the the murderer preferred a type. But in this case he'd chosen one who's appearance he'd needed to change. The hair, that was. Was he getting desperate then?

And come to think of it, if he had a type, were these women intended to be surrogates for another woman, living or dead? "No," he remarked with a slight smile, a glance towards the door when asked if she behaved, such as she was now, on a regular basis. "Well," he reconsidered then and frowned slightly. "I have to say this is the first time I've witnessed it." But considering Faith's knack for seeing spirits, and them seeing her, it seemed somehow right that she'd do it.

But eventually it was done, and the doctor thanked Faith for her help. Genuine thanks, in spite of having felt somewhat displaced in his own domain. He'd like nothing better, was he never to see another young woman laying upon his examining table. "Our room," Padraig said, and smiled when she asked about organizing their notes. Better that, he thought, than conversation about murders and examinations in a crowded taproom, over a drink and a meal.
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On the 72nd trial of Zi'da, my true love gave to me

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Faith


Knowledge:
Business Management: Maximum profit for minimum outlay
Detection: The direction of the stitches in a piece of clothing can tell you if somebody's left or right-handed
Detection: Even threads in a piece of clothing indicate that it is new
Detection: Clothing has pressure put on them in different places each time it is used
Detection: Badly dyed hair
Doctor Arnicus Black: Works with the Order of the Adunih
Doctor Arnicus Black: Believed the victims were strangled by the scarf
Festival: The 12 Trials of Zi'da
Investigation: The importance of taking notes during an investigation
Investigation: Checking clothing for clues
Investigation: Taking samples
Investigation: Checking a body for clues
Investigation: Measuring the victim to determine whether the clothing fit them
Location: Guard House in Rharne
Logistics: Organizing your notes
Logistics: The logistics of a murder investigation
Padraig: Harbours dreams of attending university
Padraig: Enjoys the holiday in Rharne
Philosophy: Romance doesn't cost anything
Psychology: A lifetime of slavery impacts you
Psychology: People treat you differently when they are unaware of your past
Psychology: When people are uncomfortable give them something to focus on
Sewing: When you repair clothing you have to check all over
The Strangler: Victims were kept alive until they were dumped
The Strangler: Whoever made the clothing of the victims was left-handed
The Stranger: The clothing might have been made in a shop
The Strangler: Victims may have been hidden in a stable
The Strangler: Whoever mended the blouse was not the same person as the one who made the scarf
The Strangler: The bodies of the victims were burnt
The Strangler: Another victim was brought in while you were at the Guard Station
The Strangler: Appearance of his last victim
The Strangler: Probably has big hands and is strong
The Stranger's last victim: was strangled, but not by the scarf

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5

Fame:
+1 : General good deed: helping to track down a serial strangler

Devotion:
+1 for praying to Famula
+1 for talking to the Strangler’s last victim and praying for her
+1 for anointing her body to Famula

Magic: These points cannot be used for magic.


Padraig


Knowledge:
Business Management: Maximum profit for minimum outlay
Detection: Puckers and small patches indicate that a piece of clothing has been mended
Detection: The scent of perfume on clothing
Detection: Oily patches on a piece of clothing
Detection: The smell of fish oil
Detection: Straw and manure on clothing
Detection: Manure in the knee area indicates that the victims were on their knees at one point
Doctor Arnicus Black: Works with the Order of Adunih
Faith: Is learning to breathe freely again
Festival: The 12 Trials of Zi'da
Immortal: Famula: The Immortal of Doom and Gloom and Romanticus Interruptis
Investigation: The importance of taking notes during an investigation
Investigation: Checking clothing for clues
Investigation: Taking samples
Investigation: A fresh victim offers more clues
Investigation: Determining whether cheap or expensive perfume was used
Location: Guard House in Rharne
Logistics: Organizing your notes
Logistics: The logistics of a murder investigation
Old Manure: Dry and dusty
Perfume: Cheap perfume wears off after a couple of breaks
Philosophy: Romance doesn't cost anything
The Strangler: Victims were kept alive until they were dumped
The Strangler: Whoever made the clothing was left-handed
The Stranger: Clothing might have been made in a shop
The Strangler: Victims may have been hidden in a stable
The Stranger: Victims wore cheap, worn and mended clothes
The Stranger: Whoever mended the blouse was not the same person as the one who made the scarf
The Strangler: The bodies of the victims were burnt
The Strangler: Another victim was brought in while you were at the Guard Station
The Strangler: Appearance of his last victim
The Stranger's last victim: was strangled, but not by the scarf
The Strangler: Probably has big hands and is strong
The Strangler: The victims look very similar
The Strangler: Prefers a type
The Stranger: Victims as surrogates for another woman?

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5

Fame:
+1 : General good deed: helping to track down a serial strangler

Devotion: N/A

Magic: These points cannot be used for magic.

Comments: This was a really enjoyable thread! The only thing that bothered me was that it was so short and ended so soon. I really want to find out how the story continues and can’t wait for the sequel!

I especially liked how thoroughly Faith and Padraig examined everything for clues and kept wondering just who strangled the poor women throughout the thread. For a moment I was actually convinced that Doctor Black was secretly The Strangler, but he seems to be a little too helpful for that.

By the way, is it strange that the fact that Faith and Padraig investigate a crime while other couples just spend their holidays relaxing and having fun amuses me?

There were no issues with the structure of your thread that I could see. Everything looked fine to me!

I awarded you lots of knowledges regarding the crime as well as for Investigation and Detection.

If you feel I've missed something nevertheless (or gave you too much or assigned a knowledge to the wrong skill!) or if you have questions, please don't hesitate to send me a PM!


Picture: "After the Storm" by maf04, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0./cropped and resized
word count: 917

Mutations

N/A

Blessings

N/A

Worn Items

Ring of Reversal
Ring of Immunity
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