Dawn sees a growing bustle of activity at the Constabulary's headquarters, an uncommon number of men moving to and fro or standing in twos and threes in the shadows of the buildings. Horses are lined up along one side of the yard, shifting and snorting in the early morning light as tack is checked and saddlebags of provisions are loaded alongside scroll-cases and sturdy crossbows.
There is an air of bitter determination about the men who clearly prepare for some mission or other, faces predominantly fixed in expressions of grim resolve to match their garb and equipment. Each wears a standard steel helm and dark grey cloak with a mailshirt clinking beneath, and a heavy-bladed falchion swinging at his hip. Heavier arms and armour than is usual for the Constabulary, hinting at some dangerous work ahead. Muttered words carry in the still air, spoken with a vengeful twist of the lip or glowering scowl.
...just marched in an' claimed her from inside the Dagger, bold as you like...
...heard there was a fight, three or four against him...
...aye, an' you know the sort that hang around there. Even they couldn't stop him...
...new girl, wasn't it? I heard she was behind the cookies...
...the bastard!...
Eventually the muttering dies down as a uniformed figure emerges onto the steps of the main building, and the Constables - perhaps two dozen in total - draw near to hear the specifics of their task. High Constable Calomel regards the gathered men and women thoughtfully for a moment, his features composed into a mask of stern command.
"Constables." A nod to those assembled, waiting briefly until he is sure he has their full attention. "Some of you already know the reason you have been called here. The ghoul Teron Ashfiend has attacked Myrkentown again, with total contempt for the Peace which we are sworn to uphold. Previously it has attacked the Myrkentown Library, killing a man and abducting the librarian who remains missing despite the efforts of our Detectives. This latest attack took place at the Broken Dagger tavern, and despite fierce resistance of several of the patrons ended with the creature escaping with a member of the tavern's staff." A pause for that information to sink in before he continues.
"Such blatant disregard for the lives and laws of Myrkentown's citizens cannot, will not be tolerated. We will track down this monster; we will discover where it lairs, and in the name of the Law we will see it ended." Nods and murmurs of agreement from the gathered Constables at this, Calomel's words firming their resolve and determination.
"Your task is to search for news of this creature, or word of its passage in order that we might hunt it down. You will travel in pairs, moving outwards from Myrkentown as detailed in your briefing papers. You will advise everyone you encounter on the way of the creature's appearance and capabilities, of the threat it poses; you have been provided with a number of posters to be displayed prominently at any centres of population you pass through, and pamphlets for the warning of the public. You will also seek any information which might hint at the Ashfiend's whereabouts. Listen especially for news of destruction, of murders or disappearances which remains unsolved - the creature is singularly crude and direct in its methods, and has no qualms about slaying those who cross its path; that, and raising their corpses to serve its vile ends." Some of the Constables spit or make the sign of the One True Faith at this, the news only filling them with greater hatred for the monster.
"Remember: your role is that of scouts, not soldiers; should you find compelling reason to believe you have discovered the creature's whereabouts, you are to report back immediately and await further instructions. Do not engage the creature yourselves, unless doing so allows you to escape. That is an explicit order. I need information, not dead Constables." Cool grey eyes sweep the assembled Constables, and is met with nods of confirmation that this point has been noted well.
"Stay sharp. You each have details on when and where you are expected to report back; if you miss those meetings, we will assume the worst and respond accordingly. Don't embarrass yourselves, and don't waste your fellow Constables' time." A wry smile at that, the risk of humiliation and endless ribbing perhaps serving as a greater motivator than the threat of official rebuke. That seems to be the end of the briefing, however, as the High Constable nods a final time and touches fingertips to his brow in salute.
"Mind how you go."