Two Tin Cans will a rattle,

But ne're they will a tattle.

         - prophecy of the duskbringer

Present day, 4993 A.D. Sixth day of the first week of Fall…

Jacques Woodsinger sat at his desk reading the Nolusburg News, a daily publication on events throughout the city, with national, political and gossip sections included.

As Jacques leaned back in his creaky old chair and flicked through the paper looking for interesting tidbits, he heard his partner call out to him.

"Jacques you're sparking again, stop brooding over the news before you wreck my magitech equipment, it's bloody expensive to replace"

"At least put on your grounding strap before you send an arc on over to me, my tongue still feels a little numb from yesterday's patrol."

Jacques looked over at his work partner. Hadoom Ironproc was a stout dwarf that Jacques had known for the last twenty-odd years.

The duo were both 'Tin Canners', slang for the law officers in the capital city of Nolusburg.

Called by that colloquialism because of the standard issue breastplate and helmet they wore as part of their uniform.

The uniform hadn't changed in the last thousand years and while it was a little old-fashioned and formal for Jacques taste he had to admit that it had stopped a shank or three in his days.

They had first met when Hadoom, down a partner after a particularly brutal riot, had picked up a young Jacques the moment he joined the force fresh out of the academy.

Hadoom had trained and protected Jacques in the many streets throughout Nolusberg, teaching him how to do his job without getting knifed in the process.

Hadoom Ironproc was getting old though, pushing 79 years and due for retirement next year. Hadoom's career had been long and mostly uneventful, although you wouldn’t know it from the greatly embellished stories he told. But that was the way old Ironproc liked it, preferring to be a 'street stomper' rather than be put in charge of a district from behind a desk.

Of course his nonchalant disrespect of his superiors didn't help his case much either. They had promoted him half a dozen times but busted him down just as quickly to a sergeant, Jacques suspected much of it had been intentionally done by Ironproc, although the old codger kept his lips sealed on the matter.

And to top him off Hadoom’s mud brown hair and eyes were as ordinary as his meager magical talent, which for a dwarf was downright embarrassing.

All in all, if he was not a dwarf he would be one of the most ordinary and plain looking commoners one could find.

Jacques on the other hand looked like he was 20 despite pushing 65. The vitality of the elf blood that flowed through his veins working its magic in preserving his youth. His tall lean stature, blond hair and steel-grey eyes made him both attractive and noticeable, contrasting greatly with Hadoom's easily forgettable personage.

Jacques himself had been passed over for promotion many a time, partly because of the lack of respect he had for his superiors.

But mostly because busting his last captain in a major criminal case did nothing to endear him towards his fellow officers and superiors.

Publically he received a medal, privately... the collective hate of an entire city of law officers.

Seen by most as a traitor to their kind dwelling in their midst. Being right seemed to hold no water with them.

In fact most made it clear that when Hadoom retired next year they would rather have a filthy slave orc as their partner instead of him, the others, well, they bit their nails at him.

This blatant ostracism enlightened Jacques on just how far the systemic corruption had rotted the once honorable profession he was a part of.

Most officers these days were dirty cans, disgraces to the badge they carried and the oath they swore, taking bribes and doing favors for whoever had the coin, noble and mafia alike.

Jacques sighed as he remembered how each new discovery had progressively shattered the youthful enthusiasm he once held for his profession.

Jacques’s mother had been an elvish bard, who bitten by wanderlust, left the elvish strongholds in the deep forests and travelled the continent. She had met his human father when she snapped her instrument over the head of an opportunistic bar fighter about to shank him.

Needing a new lute she put in a request with an up and coming instrument crafter, his father...

One thing led to another, and they were married before the year was out. But the happy newlyweds were broken apart when his mother died giving birth to him 3 years later. Half-elves were rare for a reason, few elvish mothers could survive a birth.

Jacques’s father had faithfully raised him for the next twenty years. Instilling in him a strong sense of morals and adherence to law and order as he slowly grew.

Woodsinger senior had died while out drinking with an old friend, the man a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The Grakoan mafia had been on the rise back then, rapidly taking over other gang's territory. Their target that night just happened to be the bar Jacques' father was in.

After a bloodbath of a fight they had found Jacques' father amongst the bodies, he having refused to leave the barmaid to an otherwise gruesome fate. And while he had succeeded in his goal... he had paid for it with his life.

The next day the law officer academy gained a fanatically devoted new recruit, who two years later graduated with the highest score the academy had ever seen.

Jacques attached a metal strap and cable to his wrist, his magic affinity was that of lightning, a rare affinity, and often one the military scouted.

It was a destructive chaotic force, linked tightly to his emotions, and it was one that could easily damage or destroy magitech items he was around.

Indeed he had struggled to learn how to control it growing up, often breaking things accidentally. But with time and practice he had mastered its control... mostly.

He still avoided using magitech tools though, preferring a set of modified knuckle dusters made from triple forged steel to the usual officer issued magitech gun and pacifier club.

Seeing that Jacques was safely grounded Hadoom finished his donut and queried

"What's got your feathers ruffled pup?". Jacques ignored the intentional jab, instead answering in a tired tone.

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"Take your pick, grain prices are going up again, there's a new tax that's been added on metal trade, rumours of civil unrest in the east and south, there's naught in here but news to sour one’s mood”

Jacques leaned back in his chair, casting his eyes to the growing patch of mould and mushrooms on the ceiling he called Jack.

“There’ll be riots again soon, mark my words, the air’s still ugly after the last increases 3 months ago. People are worried and uncertain. Never good news for the likes of us."

"Aye, tis bad news” agreed Hadoom

“Old Heuwey's day old bread went from one to two coppers a loaf back then. That riot was an ugly one for sure, still got the scars to prove it"

Hadoom lifted his shirt, showing several nasty looking scars on his portly belly.

Right then a rumble shook the building. The ground shivering slightly. Jacques and Hadoom looked at each other.

"Five coppers say it's the alchemists blowing up their tower again." grinned Hadoom.

"No", replied Jacques as he detached his strap

"It came from the craftsman quarter, grab your gear Hadoom, they'll be issuing a general call soon"

Sure enough the precinct bell rang, 2 tolls, summoning all active duty officers to rush to the anomaly.

They both finished buckling up their gear and took off running.

Once outside they saw a large plume of smoke rising into the sky, the source of the explosion clearly evident.

They were only about a mile out from the looks of things. With Hadoom huffing and puffing they dashed through the streets.

Another shiver ran through the ground, weaker than the first but still evident to Jacques heightened senses.

After a measure of exertion they arrived at the scene. The first responders from the looks of it

"It. looks. like. old Friedrich. the dwarf's. workshop." Hadoom panted.

"Did you know him?" Jacques asked. "There being so few dwarf's in the city and all"

"Nah, I left the dwarven kingdom because being underground made me claustrophobic" Hadoom stopped and spat in the wreckages' direction.

"Friedrich however, he was stone cursed. Banished from the fellowship of dwarves. It only happens to the worst of criminals, may haps once every few decades since they abolished the death sentence."

Jacques nodded, it made sense why old Ironproc knew of him if he was so infamous. Personally he was an advocate for the death sentence. There were a good many people the world would be better without.

The duo moved together, keeping the growing crowd from approaching the potentially dangerous workshop wreckage. When more tin cans showed up and took over they approached the wreckage to further investigate.

The old workshop had collapsed in on itself. Taking half of the neighbouring buildings with it. Wooden timbers lay smashed next to mangled machinery and tools.

Cracks in the cobblestones reached outwards like a giant spider web and the ground sloped and visibly raised around the explosion site, whatever had done this was no small mishap, to cause this damage would require an enormous force, what had the old fool of a dwarf been mixing in his cellar wondered Jacques.

Jacques listened with one ear as a reporter took down an account of what had happened from a local.

"We was just firing up the furnaces fer the day. You know, all normal like. When the ground shook like someone was pulling the rug out from under ya. We all fell down of course. A couple lads got some nasty burns too let me tell ya. So we's all rushed out to see for ourselves what was happening. And it was how you see's now, all exploded like. I warned Pete and Fred I did, not to buy those workshops next to old Friedrich. He was a loony old dwarf I said. It was... ,"

Jacques stopped listening as the man continued on with more gossip and rumors about the proprietor of the former workshop, none of it sounded more than superstition and fear mongering.

He and Hadoom approached the bomb site and started poking through the wreckage looking for clues. Shifting through the scrapped metal and wood they quickly found a gaping hole in the center.

"Cor blimey" Hadoom muttered.

"what do you reckon he was building down here Jacques? An unregistered battle mech? An explosives production line? Or a giant hot tub?"

"I don't know" Jacques replied as he unwound a thin steel cable from one of his bracers. He secured it around a sizable fallen beam.

"But I intend to find out". He jumped into the hole, the cable going taunt behind him.

His descent rapidly slowed by a braking mechanism set in his bracer he landed softly in the bottom of what could only be called a crater. While light came through the hole, the morning sun was not positioned well yet leaving the crater dim and smokey.

Jacques detached the steel cord, then pulled out and cracked a glow tube, something an alchemist friend of his had whipped up for him to use as a light source instead of the usual magitech headlamp.

He slowly walked around, examining the explosion site, noticing as he did pieces of shrapnel embedded into the walls and ceiling, but strangely the center area was swept clean. The larger debris even left drag marks towards the center instead of away.

"It's almost as if it exploded outwards first, and then inwards" He muttered to himself.

"But what on Terrapia would, or even could cause something like that?"

It got even stranger, as Jacques peered closely there were strange runes and engravings over every surface he could see, the sheer complexity and scope of it took his breath away and set his jaw rigid. This was far beyond their paygrade.

He reached out and touched an engraved rock, only to have the top layer turn to dust at his fingertips, erasing the markings as a gentle air current swept by.

A gleam caught his eye as he watched the vanishing glyphs. Stooping down he picked up what seemed to be a scale, except it was far too large, it's pearly white surface dirtied by blood and mud.

"Now where did you come from? You're too large and hard for a fish, perhaps a trophy kept by some monster hunter?" But what was it doing here? His intuition told him it was important so he wiped it clean and carefully tucked it away for a more in depth investigation later.

Behind him a rope ladder descended and shortly Hadoom joined him, switching on his headlamp and starting to examine the metal debris.

He shortly swore profusely, burning even Jacques calloused ears. Jacques quickly came over to see what the fuss was about.

Hadoom was scrabbling around, collecting multi-hued scraps of metal. When he saw Jacques peering curiously he shoved a bunch of twisted metal at him.

"Help me gather these metals real quick-like boyo or it'll cause a right mess when the others get down here. That mad dwarf was using mithril, orichalcum and even... Thorum's balmy nose! How in the seven hells did he get ahold of adamantite? It's a grade one restricted metal for Lupo's sake!”

“And who had enough skill and owed him enough favors to smelt all this orichalcum for him. They're completely bonkers, if this gets out we're talking martial law, this entire neighbourhood and everyone connected to this event in any way will disappear 'for questioning', so grab it quick Jacques, and stuff it in here."

Hadoom pulled out an old tattered bag from one of his jacket’s hidden recesses.

"This here's a relic from the old days, a family heirloom it is. Bigger on the inside see, it'll keep it safe by hiding its magical emissions. And we tell no one what we found, we keep it a secret or we're all done for."

Shaking his head in annoyance at the sudden and unpleasant twist to his day Jacques quickly helped his partner collect the reddish gold colored orichalcum and the few pieces of black adamantite.

They shoved some of the mithril in too, diminishing the amount that would be reported, preventing the case from seeming too suspicious. Thankfully they easily found and quickly stored much of the contraband as it glowed dimly in the poor light.

They were thankfully finished by the time the precinct captain wobbled down a much sturdier wooden ladder.

Jacques could see Captain Sladlow's eyes light up with greed as he saw the bluish silver mithril scattered around the scene. Jacques had no doubt very little if any would make it to the evidence locker, instead heading to various black market dealers in a lucrative trade to fill the captain's pockets with gold royals.

"You're dismissed sergeants. Head back up and assist with crowd control" Sladlow sneered. His obvious dislike of the two showing in his face and voice.

"And I want a full report of the entire event on my desk before sundown... In triplicate."

Jacques stifled a groan. The man was a sadistic poncer. He knew just how to torture a poor soul. They wouldn't be able to go home before the first morning bell tomorrow, while their next shift started at the fourth.

"Yes Sir! Delighted to Sir!"

They both saluted with as much dignity and faked respect they could muster... and beat a hasty retreat before their captain could think up any further punishments for them.

As they strolled back to the precinct Jacques pulled the scale out from his pocket and admired its pearlescent grandeur.

"What beauty dropped you I wonder?" He muttered.

As the late morning light caught the scale he froze, on the scale were tiny runes, so small as to be practically invisible without the sunlight making them shimmer.

The runes were ordered, fitting into a pattern that Jacques could see would make a greater whole when connected to other scales.

The runes and patterns also appeared strange, subsisting below the first layer of enamel instead of on top.

"Zarak's little pinky toe" swore Jacques as he came to a realization. "These weren't inscribed by any technomancer, they were grown!"