shadowsong26 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shadowsong26) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2012-02-24 09:17 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2012-02-24 09:17 pm
Nacre #12
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Missing Pieces
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Nacre #12. Cipher
Supplies and Materials: pastels (my current gen card B4 death), canvas (979 FY), seed beads, modeling clay,
Word Count: 840
Rating: R
Characters: Chief Inspector Deshell
Warnings: Murder with mutilation of the body, and a description of said mutilations.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. I swear this actually connects to things.
There were very few murders in Lester, despite the seediness of some of the dockside taverns. Most of the crimes Deshell was called on to investigate were thefts of one kind or another. Though of course there were the occasional spouses flying into jealous rages and killing rivals, that sort of thing, he'd only had to investigate one death that hadn't had an immediately obvious motive, and that had turned out to be an unfortunate accident, the result of a shoddy repair job by a wheelwright.
But this...this was different.
He crouched next to the body and pulled back the sheet covering it, noting the details as fast as he could. A young man, not one personally familiar to him, perhaps in his early thirties. No wedding jewelry Deshell could recognize, no scars or tattoos to aid in identification. His left hand was rough, calloused--he was some kind of laborer. His right hand was missing, and he had been gutted. Poor bastard. Probably took him a while to bleed out.
"Sir?"
He looked up, and twitched the sheet back over the dead man's face. "Anyone hear or see anything?"
His assistant shook his head. "No, sir."
Deshell sighed. "All right. I'll look for the weapon; see if you can find anyone who knew him."
"Yes, sir."
Three Days Later
Deshell examined the sketches of the body, and went over his notes again. They hadn't managed to find the murder weapon, but had at least been able to identify the victim. His landlady had come to report him missing, and had recognized the sketches. She said he was a metal-mage, quiet and solitary as they tended to be, always paid his rent on time. As far as she had been able to tell, there was no one who might want him dead, particularly not so brutally.
And Deshell and his assistants hadn't managed to find any motive in their own research, either. Granted, they'd only identified him this morning and were still asking around, but...
"Sir?"
He looked up. "Find anything?"
The young man took a deep breath. "Yes. We found another body."
What the hell is going on in my town?
This body had been mutilated in the same way the first had. The only differences were that he was perhaps five years younger and had a tattoo of some kind of flower on his left wrist.
And his eyes were still open.
Grimacing, Deshell shut them. "No weapon here, either, I'm guessing?"
"No, sir."
Deshell made a quick sketch of the tattoo and passed it to his assistant. "Identify him, and see how he connects with the other body. Tell the others to keep up their lines of questioning."
"Yes, sir."
Three Weeks Later
The second victim provided very little additional information. He had been born here, the first had moved here less than five years ago. Both were quiet, solitary, upstanding citizens. Both were metal-mages. Though they had never worked together, they occasionally traded raw materials between themselves.
Then there was a third victim, five days after the second, who broke the pattern. She was an older woman, about ten years older than the first. The only connection was that she, too, was a metal-mage, with no living family in the town. She had been gutted and mutilated in the exact same way, but had also been gagged--presumably to keep her from screaming--and had never even traded raw material with either of the male victims.
Deshell swore, and shoved the folder with the three reports off his desk. He stared at the scattered papers for a minute, then got up and gathered them all, putting them back in order.
Start from the beginning. There has to be something I'm missing.
Three Months Later
There hadn't been any more bodies. But there hadn't been any more information, either.
No murder weapon had ever been found, no clue leading to the man who had butchered three innocent people. The only thing Deshell had been able to come up with was that the murderer was one of the vicious bigots out of Feredar (he was very glad that Lester was under the rule of Asendar instead)--but then why target only metal-mages? True, they were the most solitary of all mages, and therefore likeliest to be able to catch alone for butchering. But then why cut off their hands? And why gut them?
Too many things didn't add up, but it was the only thing he could put down in his reports that he sent to the capital every six months. He kept looking through the papers, though, trying to find out what he missed, what could get him to the killer.
Nothing ever jumped out at him. No matter how hard he stared.
Three Years Later
There's a locked room in Chief Inspector Deshell's house, one where he doesn't let his wife or children go. It's where he keeps everything he has on the three dead metal-mages, always hoping that something might help him grant them justice.
Story: Missing Pieces
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Nacre #12. Cipher
Supplies and Materials: pastels (my current gen card B4 death), canvas (979 FY), seed beads, modeling clay,
Word Count: 840
Rating: R
Characters: Chief Inspector Deshell
Warnings: Murder with mutilation of the body, and a description of said mutilations.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. I swear this actually connects to things.
There were very few murders in Lester, despite the seediness of some of the dockside taverns. Most of the crimes Deshell was called on to investigate were thefts of one kind or another. Though of course there were the occasional spouses flying into jealous rages and killing rivals, that sort of thing, he'd only had to investigate one death that hadn't had an immediately obvious motive, and that had turned out to be an unfortunate accident, the result of a shoddy repair job by a wheelwright.
But this...this was different.
He crouched next to the body and pulled back the sheet covering it, noting the details as fast as he could. A young man, not one personally familiar to him, perhaps in his early thirties. No wedding jewelry Deshell could recognize, no scars or tattoos to aid in identification. His left hand was rough, calloused--he was some kind of laborer. His right hand was missing, and he had been gutted. Poor bastard. Probably took him a while to bleed out.
"Sir?"
He looked up, and twitched the sheet back over the dead man's face. "Anyone hear or see anything?"
His assistant shook his head. "No, sir."
Deshell sighed. "All right. I'll look for the weapon; see if you can find anyone who knew him."
"Yes, sir."
Three Days Later
Deshell examined the sketches of the body, and went over his notes again. They hadn't managed to find the murder weapon, but had at least been able to identify the victim. His landlady had come to report him missing, and had recognized the sketches. She said he was a metal-mage, quiet and solitary as they tended to be, always paid his rent on time. As far as she had been able to tell, there was no one who might want him dead, particularly not so brutally.
And Deshell and his assistants hadn't managed to find any motive in their own research, either. Granted, they'd only identified him this morning and were still asking around, but...
"Sir?"
He looked up. "Find anything?"
The young man took a deep breath. "Yes. We found another body."
What the hell is going on in my town?
This body had been mutilated in the same way the first had. The only differences were that he was perhaps five years younger and had a tattoo of some kind of flower on his left wrist.
And his eyes were still open.
Grimacing, Deshell shut them. "No weapon here, either, I'm guessing?"
"No, sir."
Deshell made a quick sketch of the tattoo and passed it to his assistant. "Identify him, and see how he connects with the other body. Tell the others to keep up their lines of questioning."
"Yes, sir."
Three Weeks Later
The second victim provided very little additional information. He had been born here, the first had moved here less than five years ago. Both were quiet, solitary, upstanding citizens. Both were metal-mages. Though they had never worked together, they occasionally traded raw materials between themselves.
Then there was a third victim, five days after the second, who broke the pattern. She was an older woman, about ten years older than the first. The only connection was that she, too, was a metal-mage, with no living family in the town. She had been gutted and mutilated in the exact same way, but had also been gagged--presumably to keep her from screaming--and had never even traded raw material with either of the male victims.
Deshell swore, and shoved the folder with the three reports off his desk. He stared at the scattered papers for a minute, then got up and gathered them all, putting them back in order.
Start from the beginning. There has to be something I'm missing.
Three Months Later
There hadn't been any more bodies. But there hadn't been any more information, either.
No murder weapon had ever been found, no clue leading to the man who had butchered three innocent people. The only thing Deshell had been able to come up with was that the murderer was one of the vicious bigots out of Feredar (he was very glad that Lester was under the rule of Asendar instead)--but then why target only metal-mages? True, they were the most solitary of all mages, and therefore likeliest to be able to catch alone for butchering. But then why cut off their hands? And why gut them?
Too many things didn't add up, but it was the only thing he could put down in his reports that he sent to the capital every six months. He kept looking through the papers, though, trying to find out what he missed, what could get him to the killer.
Nothing ever jumped out at him. No matter how hard he stared.
Three Years Later
There's a locked room in Chief Inspector Deshell's house, one where he doesn't let his wife or children go. It's where he keeps everything he has on the three dead metal-mages, always hoping that something might help him grant them justice.
no subject
no subject
I do like Deshell, though, and may do more with him. He's a good cop--both in the sense that, unsolvable serial murder cases notwithstanding, he's good at his job, and he's also a good man. ^^
no subject
no subject
no subject
I hope you post more about this (especially if there are bodies in other towns)--I love a good murder mystery :D
no subject
no subject
no subject
Yeah, this is a case Deshell will never ever forget, even if he wanted to.
no subject
no subject