Yardie (prime)/Detective Work
Pashtal’s arrival and fiery demise had been a splinter in the mind of the Panicky Phantom. The Nalfein fiend had a person of intrigue and mystery that sewed more chaos than the island ever imagined. Almost a year later, the emergence of the Hyssch and their pyromaniacal abilities echoed similarities to the Nalfein’s death, which ate at Yardie day and night. They needed answers but only added more questions. The Faendryl set out to revisit that fateful day at Greth’s, where the Nalfein Menace met an unexpected end.
Yardie entered Greth’s, the pub’s proprietor, its only occupant. Violet eyes drank in the room, and then they suddenly closed as he recalled the crowd of people gathered in search of the statue or their bumbling assailant. The Faendryl nodded and went to work.
No answers. No leads. Murmurs carried through the crowd like a beehive, and only Yukito’s crunching on a Mooph pickle snapped through.
Suddenly, the constable barged in with their foe, the giantkin informing Greth of his fulfilled contract and Greth telling the lawman to remove his amulet and demanding payment. Yardie stared at the Nalfein, noticing the once clumsy yet cocksure convict ridden with widened eyes with blackened scars across the eyebrows. Was that a brief worry on his face to accompany the fire damage on his cheeks? Then it returned to that assertive glance as he spoke about his luck and safety in Greth’s. The constable had professional ties, ones that needed investigation one day.
Yardie opened his eyes and took in the room. “One can’t cast here,” he said to himself. “You felt safe, Pashtal. Didn’t you? Even with the burns marks…across your cheeks and eyebrows…burn marks!”
Scanning the room, he returned to that moment in time.
The questions came from everyone. Professionally, interrogations required few people, locked doors, and some tools to engage in conversation, but he took solace in dealing with more aboveboard men and women than his occupational standards. The questions focus on Pashtal’s fall from grace. Instead, the Nalfein responded regarding his work.
Pashtal said, “I have been preparing this Isle for my Lord Sheru. The process was well started before I arrived; I have merely…sought to hasten the process.”
Yardie exhaled. “Well, started before he arrived. You met the Hyssch. The Circle, didn’t you?”
Questions struck like lightning bolts, and Pashtal carefully dodged them with experienced precision, only regarding the jackals as “a gift” that he refused to deactivate. The same people gave him the book, a confusing source of power that went beyond its pages.
“Someone supplied you, Pashtal. Someone fed you,” Yardie noted. “Was it the Hyssch?”
Concern shifted from Pashtal to his supposed source of power. It frustrated the Faendryl–those who talk about how evil came from the person and not the book often harped on that tool instead of seeing the entire picture. Pashtal expressed the need to prevent the ritual and the importance of Sheru’s recognition.
It turned south. Pashtal glanced towards his abdomen, a furrowed brow, and a sudden burst of flames devoured him. He screamed before his burning flesh overtook the room. Pashtal fell, and his carcass turned to ash.
Yardie gasped as he returned to the present, taking in the Stumbling Pebble II again. “There’s no magic here, Greth, yet he burned. He thought he was safe here until he got caught.” Yardie slammed on the counter. “I think the Hyssch influenced Pashtal with his dreams of pleasing Sheru, leaving the island to clear out so the undead can roam and…maybe search for it while we were busy!”
With all of his findings organized, The Panicky Phantom took one long at the burned symbol of Hexah’Jing. That firebrand signaled the arrival of the Hyssch, but the Faendryl had definitive proof they operated as recently as before Pashtal’s arrival…perhaps even before that. “I’ll inform Kalyrra and the others. We’ll need every clue at our disposal.” Hasting out of the establishment, Yardie slammed a handful of silvers on the counter and grinned at the burly barkeep. “Thanks, Greth!” And in an instant, he was out the door.