Corporal Anthony Cooper had worn one uniform or another of Myrken Wood's guard for a little under a decade. Unlike just about any other territory, that stretch of time is a feat - just to survive in Myrken Wood that long is a feat. But not all things that haunt this haunted territory were necessarily violent and not all were bent on destruction. Some just like to take things...which Anthony was no stranger to. Neither was he a stranger to fantastic stories.
"I'm telling you, Corporal, my Dragon ruby necklace was right there, on my desk! I turned around for two seconds and it was gone. There was nobody else in there! I heard nothing! It's the work of Drow, Corporal!"
The man telling Anthony this story was a noble, as one could expect from another who owns a Dragon ruby necklace. The Corporal didn't even know what the difference was between that and a normal ruby necklace. He wasn't about to ask. No, instead he went through the pertinent, actually useless questions that made the victim feel more comfortable.
"Sir, where was the last place you saw your necklace?"
On the desk, of course. The noble had already said that. One would be amazed how quickly the information could change with direct questioning, though.
"On my desk, you fool! I already said that!"
Strike one for the Corporal. He took the insult in stride, not breaking the stoney expression he wore after first hearing the man bellow about the theft. Internally, he frowned. Anthony was a fine guard, really; he had no problem with fending off the evil plagues, or even dying to protect innocent lives (to a certain extent). However, one thing he could never stand was nobles crying theft when so much as a gold coin disappears. As if they couldn't continue living.
"All right, sir, is there anyone who would know where you keep your necklace?"
"Only my wife, Corporal! And she said nothing about it. It's the work of the Drow, I tell you! Only they could be capable of such a dispicable act!"
See, this is exactly what Anthony hated. The Drow don't give a damn about any stupid necklace, nor is the theft of even on the same scale of dispicable as some of their other passtimes. In other words, it was far more likely the wife was getting irritated and stole it for some cushioning to leave the noble. He was such a catch, after all.
"All right, sir. I'll head back to the Barracks right away and file a report."
"I'm glad to hear it, Corporal! Banish those damned Drow for everything they've done!"
"...good night, sir."
Anthony passed the noble and finally wore the frown he felt, shaking his head ever so discreetly. He was actually going back to the Barracks, though this wasn't anything to do with the noble's plight - just happenstance that his shift was over. Hell, the Corporal might actually write the report.
* * *
In Myrkentown, there are a lot of abandoned houses. The territory brimmed with life, once - as a matter of fact, it does often, and seems to always return to its lively state. So soon after the second coming of the Bloody Flux, this is not the case - many buildings and homes are left empty, their occupants long passed. Most of these buildings have been cleared of the bodies, a joint effort by the Brotherhood and good samaritans. Not many stuck around for the giant funeral pyres erected to safely dispose of potential zombies.
Of course, with unclaimed property, there's always someone who comes along to take it as their own. Some are just squatters, others eager merchants looking at either new shops or just land to sell; some are more genuinely claimed by the kin of the passed. In the cellar of one of these numerous locations - one of the more rundown, half-rotting and collapsing structures - sits a perfectly intact table, untouched by the decrepidation above. Two short wooden stools sat beside it.
On this table gleamed a large purse of Myrken shilling, a few miscellanous gems, a shining gold breast plate, and a Dragon ruby necklace - all reflected back by six inhuman eyes.