As the fog crept up through the gaslit streets of Bolton, Waluge hurried along, his breath forming wisps of vapor in the chill air.
Waluge navigated the labyrinthine alleys of Bolton with a sense of purpose. His footsteps echoed softly against the cobblestones, the only sound in the quiet night air. With neatly combed hair peeking out from under his hat, and brown eyes darting about for any sign of trouble.
Clad in a crisp white shirt, black trousers, and a matching coat that billowed slightly in the breeze, he had a Gloomy aura of a shut in, His facial features were unremarkable, and he appeared refined, but he had obvious eye bags with an inkling of a double chin.
The fog thickened as Waluge approached his destination, a small, dimly lit tavern tucked away in a secluded corner of Bolton. The soft glow of lanterns spilled out from its windows, casting eerie shadows on the surrounding buildings.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Waluge stepped into the warm embrace of the tavern. The air was thick with the scent of ale and tobacco, and the murmur of conversation filled the room. He scanned the faces of the patrons, searching for the one he had come to meet.
At a corner table, a figure sat hunched over a tankard, their features obscured by the shadows. Waluge made his way over, his footsteps muffled by the worn wooden floorboards. As he approached, the figure looked up, revealing a weathered face framed by a tangle of gray hair.
"Mr. Waluge," the figure rasped, voice hoarse from years of smoke and drink. "I've been expecting you."
Waluge took a seat opposite the man, nodding in acknowledgment. "You have information for me?"
The man nodded, taking a sip of his ale before speaking. "Aye, but it'll cost you."
Waluge reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing a small pouch of coins. He slid it across the table, the sound of metal against wood echoing in the quiet tavern. The man picked up the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in satisfaction.
"Now, what is it you know?" Waluge pressed, leaning forward slightly.
The man leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There's been talk of strange happenings throughout the City, people going missing and ending up dead after three days and some never seen again."
As the man Continued to talk Waluge's heart was starting to beat faster and faster, not because of fear or something like that but he was smiling from the excitement. He always wanted to be a detective yet now he actually had the chance to be one.
Waluge's mind raced with the possibilities of what the man had just revealed. Strange happenings, disappearances, and deaths shrouded in mystery—it was the type of case he lived for. With a subtle nod, he urged the man to continue, hanging on to every word like a thread of hope in the darkness.
The informant leaned back slightly, eyeing Waluge with a mixture of caution and curiosity. "Folks whisper about curses and dark magic," he continued, his voice barely audible over the din of the tavern. "They say it's the work of a witch, seeking revenge for some long-forgotten slight."
Waluge's brow furrowed as he absorbed this information. Witchcraft was a dangerous topic in Bolton, steeped in superstition and fear. But he was undeterred. If there was any truth to these rumors, he was determined to uncover it, no matter the cost.
"And what of the victims?" Waluge inquired, his voice steady despite the rising turmoil within him.
The informant's gaze flickered with uncertainty before he replied, "Mostly common folk, workers and laborers. No one of importance, at least not to those in power."
A pang of guilt tugged at Waluge's conscience. These were people who lived on the fringes of society, their lives deemed expendable by those who held sway over Bolton. But to Waluge, every life held value, every death a tragedy waiting to be avenged.
"Have there been any witnesses?" Waluge pressed, his mind already racing through potential leads and suspects.
The informant shook his head, a grim expression clouding his weathered features. "None that have come forward willingly. Fear grips the hearts of those who know more than they should."
Waluge nodded, his resolve hardening with each passing moment. He would need to tread carefully, to navigate the treacherous waters of Bolton's underbelly with caution and cunning. But he was no stranger to danger, no stranger to the shadows that lurked in the corners of the city.
"Thank you," Waluge said, rising from his seat with purpose. "Your information has been invaluable."
The informant nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on Waluge with a mixture of admiration and apprehension. "Be careful, Mr. Waluge. The darkness has a way of consuming even the brightest of lights."
With a grim smile, Waluge donned his hat and coat, "A prepared Magician and an unprepared Magician are very different concepts…"
As he left the man sat there Confused thinking he had just met an idiot but with a shake of his head he ordered another Mug of ale.
As Waluge stepped out into the fog-laden streets once more, a sense of purpose propelled him forward. His mind buzzed with thoughts of where to begin his investigation. The police station seemed like the logical first step. After all, if there truly was a string of mysterious deaths and disappearances plaguing Bolton, it was the duty of the authorities to address it.
He quickened his pace, his footsteps echoing against the cobblestones as he made his way through the winding alleys of the city. The gas lamps flickered ominously in the fog, casting long shadows that danced across the damp walls of the buildings.
It had only been two decades since the king had introduced the police system to Bolton—a relatively recent addition to the city's infrastructure. Before that, law enforcement had been a haphazard affair, with local militias and vigilante groups attempting to maintain order in the absence of a centralized authority.
Waluge pondered the implications of this as he navigated the labyrinthine streets. The fledgling police force would likely be ill-equipped to handle a case of this magnitude, especially if it involved matters as nebulous as witchcraft and dark magic.
But despite the potential obstacles, Waluge remained undeterred. He had always been drawn to the unknown, to the mysteries that lurked in the shadows. And if there was one thing he excelled at, it was unraveling those mysteries, piece by painstaking piece.
As he neared the city center, the imposing silhouette of the police station loomed ahead, its stone facade bathed in the soft glow of the moon. A sense of anticipation welled up within Waluge as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped into the bustling foyer.
The interior was a hive of activity, with officers coming and going, their voices echoing off the walls as they exchanged terse greetings and hurried about their duties. Waluge approached the front desk, his heart racing with excitement.
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"Good evening," he greeted the officer behind the desk with a polite nod. "I'm here to speak with someone about a matter of some urgency."
The officer regarded him with a hint of skepticism, but nodded nonetheless. "Of course, sir. If you'll just wait here, I'll fetch someone to assist you."
Waluge took a seat in one of the worn wooden chairs, his mind buzzing with anticipation. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay in store.
As he sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the lanterns overhead, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through his veins. The game was afoot, and Waluge was more than ready to play his part.
As Waluge observed the man in the police uniform, he noted the pallor of his skin, a stark contrast against the darkness of his hair. The man appeared to be in his thirties, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore into Waluge's very soul. His features were sharp and angular, giving him an air of authority that was impossible to ignore.
As the man approached, Waluge couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension wash over him. It was clear from the man's demeanor that he held a position of power within the police force, perhaps even the highest rank at the station.
When the man spoke, his voice was tinged with annoyance, as if he were already weary of dealing with Waluge's inquiries. "Huh, what do you want, Waluge?"
Waluge offered a polite smile in return, though he could sense the underlying tension in the man's words. "Oh, good evening, Mr. Derrick. I was here to inquire about a missing person case."
Derrick's response was cold and dismissive. "You should know by now, Waluge, that you're not part of the force. I have no obligation to give you anything."
Waluge's smile faltered slightly at the rebuff, but he maintained his composure. He was no stranger to resistance, especially when it came to pursuing leads outside of official channels. But he was determined not to let Derrick's indifference deter him from his investigation.
"I understand," Waluge replied evenly, masking his disappointment. "But surely you can appreciate the gravity of the situation. Lives are at stake, and I believe that together, we can work to uncover the truth."
Derrick's expression remained impassive, but Waluge could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It was clear that Derrick was torn between his duty to uphold the law and his distrust of Waluge's methods.
Before both could speak any further a new person pushed into the station as he was breathing heavily indicating that he had run here, as Waluge looked he noticed that this person was fit so he must have run for atleast a minute or two by the way he was Breathing heavily.
As they hurried through the dimly lit corridors of the police station, Waluge's senses were on high alert. The urgency of the situation hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of dust and old paperwork.
Derrick's voice cut through the tense silence, his tone brusque as he fired off questions to the officer leading the way. "What do we know so far? Where was the body found?"
The officer's responses came in hurried bursts, his words clipped with a sense of urgency. "The body was discovered in an alley off Market Street. It appears to be a young woman, strangled to death. No witnesses so far, but we're canvassing the area for any leads."
As they reached the scene of the crime, Waluge's gaze swept over the dimly lit alley, taking in the sight of the lifeless figure sprawled on the cobblestones. Her features were twisted in a grimace of pain, her hands clutching at her throat as if trying to ward off her attacker.
Derrick wasted no time in issuing orders to his officers, directing them to secure the area and begin the process of collecting evidence. Meanwhile, Waluge remained silent, his eyes fixed on the victim as he searched for any clues that might shed light on her untimely demise.
As the officers worked methodically to gather evidence, Waluge's keen eye caught sight of a glint of metal protruding from beneath the victim's coat. With a sense of trepidation, he reached out and gently pulled back the fabric, revealing a small, ornate pendant nestled against her chest.
The pendant was unlike anything Waluge had ever seen before, its intricate design hinting at a craftsmanship far beyond the means of the average citizen. It bore the image of a crescent moon, surrounded by arcane symbols and sigils that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.
A sense of unease settled over Waluge as he examined the pendant, his mind racing with possibilities. Could it be a clue left behind by the killer, a calling card of sorts meant to taunt those who sought to unravel the mystery?
Before he could ponder the matter further, Derrick's voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. "Waluge, any leads?"
Waluge hesitated for a moment, torn between revealing his findings and keeping them close to his chest. But in the end, he knew that collaboration was key if they were to have any hope of solving the case.
"I found this," Waluge replied, holding up the pendant for Derrick to see. "It was hidden beneath the victim's coat. I believe it may be a clue left behind by the killer."
Derrick's brow furrowed in contemplation as he studied the pendant, his expression unreadable. "Interesting. Let's have it analyzed for any fingerprints. In the meantime, I'll have my officers canvas the area for any witnesses or additional evidence."
The body lay sprawled on the cold cobblestones of the narrow alley, illuminated by the dim glow of the gas lamps flickering overhead. The young woman's features were frozen in a grimace of pain, her eyes wide with terror and her mouth agape in a silent scream.
Her skin was pallid, drained of color by the chill of the night air and the lifeless grip of death. Strands of dark hair clung to her clammy forehead, matted with sweat and dirt from her struggle. Bruises marred her delicate features, evidence of the violent struggle that had led to her untimely demise.
Her hands were still clenched in a desperate grasp, fingers clawing at her throat as if trying to pry loose the invisible hands that had choked the life from her. A thin trickle of blood stained the corner of her mouth, evidence of the brutal nature of her death.
Despite the horror of the scene before him, Waluge forced himself to focus on the details, searching for any clues that might provide insight into the identity of the killer. It was a grim task, made all the more difficult by the oppressive weight of the darkness that seemed to linger in the air.
Upon closer inspection, amidst the bruises and signs of struggle, Waluge's keen eye caught sight of a disturbing detail: a bite mark on the young woman's neck. The skin around the bite was bruised and torn, evidence of the savage force with which the attacker had sunk their teeth into her flesh.
The bite mark stood out starkly against the pallor of the victim's skin, a grim reminder of the brutality of her demise. Waluge's mind raced with possibilities as he considered the implications of this new revelation. Was it the mark of a vampire, a creature of the night who came to feed on the blood of the innocent? Or perhaps it was the work of a deranged killer, driven by a twisted desire to inflict pain and suffering upon their victims.
As Derrick, Waluge, and the officer remained at the crime scene, Waluge's sharp mind began to piece together the puzzle before him. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss, especially with the officer who reported the crime appearing unusually fatigued despite the short distance from the police station.
Waluge's suspicions intensified when he noticed a stain of blood on the officer's collar, a detail that hadn't escaped his observant gaze. As his eyes narrowed in scrutiny, he saw the officer's hand inching towards his holster, a subtle but unmistakable movement that set off alarm bells in Waluge's mind.
Without hesitation, Waluge sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of training and experience. "Burn," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife. In an instant, flames erupted near the officer's hand, licking at his skin with searing intensity.
The officer recoiled in shock and pain, his hand jerking away from his holster as he stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with fear. The sudden display of magic had caught him off guard, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
If a mage had been present to witness Waluge's flawless execution of the spell, they would have been left speechless, awed by the sheer precision and power on display. But there was no time for admiration or reflection as Waluge remained focused on the immediate threat before him.
Derrick, too, was taken aback by the sudden turn of events, his hand instinctively reaching for his own weapon as he assessed the situation with a mix of caution and concern. But before he could intervene, Waluge took control of the situation with calm authority, his gaze locked onto the now subdued officer.
"Drop the gun," Waluge commanded, his voice firm and unwavering. "And tell us the truth."
The officer started to laugh as his Body consorted in an unnatural way that wasn't safe to be around.
As the officer's laughter echoed eerily through the alley, a sense of dread washed over Waluge and Derrick. Their eyes widened in horror as they watched green goo flow from the officer's mouth, a grotesque sight that sent shivers down their spines.
"This is just the beginning," the officer taunted, his voice distorted by the thick substance oozing from his lips. The words hung in the air like a sinister prophecy, sending a chill through the hearts of those who heard them.
Waluge's mind raced with possibilities, his thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. Whatever dark forces were at work here, they were far beyond his comprehension, their motives inscrutable and their power undeniable.
But despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, Waluge remained resolute. He knew that they couldn't afford to falter now, not when the lives of innocent people hung in the balance.
With a steely determination, Waluge met the officer's gaze, his voice firm and unwavering. "Whatever you're planning, it ends now. We won't let you harm anyone else."
The officer's laughter grew louder, more maniacal, as if fueled by some unseen force. But beneath the facade of bravado, Waluge sensed a flicker of fear, a vulnerability that he could exploit to his advantage.
Drawing upon his knowledge of magic and the arcane, Waluge focused his energy, channeling it into a protective barrier that surrounded himself and Derrick. The shimmering aura crackled with power, warding off the malevolent forces that threatened to consume them.
As the officer's laughter reached a crescendo, a sudden and violent explosion rocked the alley, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Before Waluge and Derrick could react, the officer was enveloped in a blinding flash of green light, his form disintegrating into a grotesque torrent of viscous green goo.
The goo splattered against the cobblestones with sickening squelches, leaving behind a foul stench that hung heavy in the night air. Waluge and Derrick shielded their eyes from the intense glare, their hearts pounding with a mixture of fear and astonishment.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the explosion subsided, leaving behind nothing but a swirling cloud of smoke and the lingering echo of the officer's maniacal laughter. In its wake, there was no trace of the officer or the mysterious green goo that had consumed him.
As Waluge and Derrick surveyed the scene in stunned silence, a sense of unease settled over them like a heavy shroud. Whatever dark forces were at play here, they were far beyond anything they had ever encountered before.
As the smoke cleared and the eerie silence settled over the alley, Derrick turned to Waluge with wide eyes, his voice trembling as he struggled to find the words. "Wh-what was that? Are you a Mage, Waluge?"
Waluge met Derrick's gaze with a wry smile, his expression tinged with a hint of amusement. "Oops, wasn't supposed to do that, but yes, I suppose I am a Mage."
Derrick's jaw dropped in astonishment, his mind reeling at the revelation. He had heard rumors of individuals with magical abilities, but he had never encountered one firsthand. To see Waluge conjure flames with such ease and precision was nothing short of miraculous.
"But how?" Derrick stammered, his disbelief evident in his voice. "How did you learn to do that?"
Waluge's smile widened as he shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a long story," he replied cryptically, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Let's just say I've had my fair share of...unusual experiences."
Derrick nodded slowly, his mind still struggling.