I am Jäga, a specialist in hunting those who hide within our cities. I am well-versed in the delicate arts of information-gathering and urban tracking.
While I am more than adequately compensated for my craft, I have recently grown weary of shaking down petty criminals and gamblers with debts owed to those who would pay me to find and collect them, so I went in search a new commison. My contacts are extensive, by nature of my work, so I soon found myself meeting with one Charles D. Ward, a wizard. He seemed somewhat smarmy, but mentioned a bit about a missing elf wearing a silver robe. I followed him back to his house on the promise of more information -- apparently the reward is unprecedented -- but his chatter seemed to dry up as we arrived. I decided to give him a short grace period to start talking before I busted out the big guns, when an adventuring party arrived with an apparently horror-marked member in tow. They performed the necessary action, of course, but were then looking for new members. Now, I don't relish ripping wizard's fingernails off -- honestly -- so I left with the new group. I figured more information could be procured about the missing elf later.
What happened next, I'm sad to say, can best be described as a rather ridiculous wild goose chase -- if, of course, wild geese were missing their tactile receptors and had oozing wounds where their eyes, ears, and mouths should be, but somehow did not die. We found victims of this horror -- as it is most assuredly some sort of horror -- across several villages, towns, and even down the river. We failed to find the source or even the method of transmission of this spreading plague that leaves lurching, mutilated bodies in its wake. I'm disappointed in myself and my investigative capabilities. We must find the source of this horror before it claims more victims.
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