//------------------------------// // Act 3- Chapter 4: Incidents // Story: Icon: Remnants of the North // by Vixavior //------------------------------// Incidents Proofread by TehSporkBandit A dreadful sigh of irritation passes your lips and you gingerly rub your forehead. The onset of a migraine pulses through your temples as if your head was caught in a vice. “No no, take it all back. It's not going to fit anyway." I have no idea what Celestia was thinking, and I don't think he does either. The prissy Unicorn stallion simply snorts in frustration, “Pardon me sir, but you still have to sign for it." He places a hoof on the oilcloth wrapped bundle inside a large white oak chest. The material slips, showing the perfectly burnished brass and silver champron headpiece for an Alicorn or Unicorn. Carved sigils, decorative etching, and reliefs adorn the plate of metal armour that would encase an Equestrian's face. It is too big for you, and the plates that run down their neck would reach to your mid back. Of course, the wide-eyed fascination from other ponies at seeing the bright plumes and regal outfit weighed heavily on you as half the tavern oggles the outfit, “This is the last piece I have to sign for, right?” “As before, sir, you have to sign here that you returned it to the armoury vis-a-vie me, and I will inspect it and countersign that it is in full working condition with no damage or faults." There are more than a dozen components to the regalia that had taken the same prolonged procedure. Worse yet, the pony hadn’t cut corners by allowing you to just sign your name on every sheet of parchment or let you go with just one affidavit affirming that you would take care of the armour to the best of your ability. Behold, pony bureaucracy. You scribble a signature at the bottom of another long strip of parchment affixed with royal seals. “That's it, then?” It gets a swift nod. “Good, then I'll just be over there and give you more space to work and pack up. There’s, um, no spear or anything else you’re holding back, right?” The stallion blinks, bright magenta eyes staring into yours as if asking 'are you serious?' “I'm the armourer, if you want a weapon then you should talk to a bladesmith or a spearwright. I can furnish a list of reputable artisans, if you wish.” “Thanks.” You move on after swiping your drink, leaving the pony to pack up. The tavern door creaks open at the urging of the winter winds where it clacks against the stone wall loud enough to draw your attention. Three ponies enter, two Unicorn mares and a stallion, trailing strands of fashionable scarves and cloaks puffed up with layers of faux-fur. It isn't who you were hoping to see, but the reaction has become reflexive. As you sigh and settle in to a seat by the wall, you flip out your phone and covertly check the time. The clock was still more than seven hours off, but you haven’t bothered to reset the only link you have to your home. It has been almost eleven hours since you had been ushered into the royal throne room and then all but shoved from it. You have come through relatively unscathed, but your friends are still out there somewhere. The voicemail message cycles again: "Hey, bonjour, mate! Listen, I'm sorry about the other day, I guess I missed you, but C’est la vie, eh? Listen, I just wanted to make sure you were alright and not too mad about anything. You’re not mad, non? Mais bien, call me back when you can… it’s François by the way." Every single band of patrons that wandered in dashed your hopes even further. Dashed', huh? Speaking of which, where is she? The other four aren't incompetent, Rainbow had seemed trustworthy enough to get things done, too. Something had to have happened to delay them. Please don’t be in prison, I don’t know how to bail you out, and a bribe on a royal IOU might look suspicious. You sit in a low chair at the back of the tavern, watching over the proceedings and nursing your Blackstrap Special in front of the warming flames of the cozy hearth. The local drink warms your gullet and helps to relax you. The deep chocolaty coloured liquid is light and frothy with a touch of cinnamon, and the distinct taste of buttered rum. All of it is thanks to molasses, milk, and not a whole lot else. It’s a weird idea, but surprisingly good. A deep sigh sweeps over you; it conjures feelings somewhere between nervous anticipation and irritable malcontent. It’s hard to feel the real camaraderie that so many of the ponies display. It had been fun watching them as a distraction, but like the bloom on a new apple, it was polished off quick enough. Great, now I'm sounding like Applejack. Well, it’s better than just cursing like an old codjer in the park. Given how long you've spent with these ponies, and around the Apples in particular, something was bound to rub off. Staring into the deep dark depths of the mug, you take another sip as the door bursts open. “What the hay is this? We're out busting our chops and you're here relaxing?" The sudden accusative rasp sends the drink down the wrong tube, leaving you spluttering and coughing. Thumping your chest to clear your lungs, you glare at Rainbow Dash as she bulls her way through the door. Her eyes narrow, her nose wrinkles up, and her forelocks hang down over her eyes as she peers down her nose at you while cantering over. Her frown quickly begins to falter around the edges. “Where were..." a fit of coughing interrupts you along with the amused chortle of the Pegasus. “Found 'em!" Rainbow shouts back over her shoulder and quickly taps the table twice, “Hold that thought, champ, I'm going to get a drink. Spot me ten bits and I'll tell you about the daring, dashing, and otherwise death-defying tale of how I, the greatest flyer ever, pulled off the perfect plan." She leans nonchalantly on the table, staring at her hoof and dusting her chest off like some '30s gangster. You swallow and smirk before pushing over a slip of paper. Rainbow eyes the scrap of parchment, looking it over and quirking a brow. “It's a writ of something-or-other. Just take it and give it to the bartender then tell them what you want, it's on the Princesses’ tab. You can get what you want because I, Squire of Equestria, say you can... so long as you give me all the details.” “Hah, anything? Sweeeet, box-seat tickets at the aerodrome for life!" Rainbow snatches the script up in her teeth and bolts off. The rest of your group tumbles forward through the open door with a chilly breath of the wind at their backs. With a warble and a shiver, Rarity glares daggers at Rainbow who blithely blurts out, “Took your time with all that junk, huh? Hey, you want anything? Rightly's got a tab.” The irritable Unicorn keeps her stony glare, “Well, you could have helped us carry some of that 'junk', you know.” “I was hopping around all day getting everything ready and what kind of thanks do I get?" Rainbow's mock-hurt display by the bar is enough to draw some attention. The fashionista blinks, “I just said ‘thank you’ ten minutes ago!” “Yeah," she bobs her head towards you, “but he didn't hear it. That's fine, I'll just have to tell the whoooole story over again. Bam," she slaps the script down as the bartender, a mousey looking Earth-pony mare, stares at the mostly obscured slip, “I’ll have whatever he's having with some crunchy marshmallow things.” “Oh, thank goodness you're here. It’s really getting cold outside and I’d hate for anypony to be left out in the snow." Fluttershy is the last pony in line so she quickly closes the door and darts back to rejoin the quartet. Pinkie is the second down the stairs as Rarity lingers by the stairwell. The upbeat earth-mare smiles and makes a beeline towards you. The last few steps are covered by a single springing leap, “Ooo, so where were you? We looked everywhere, well, almost everywhere. In fact, sorta nearly lots of places, I was hoping you didn't have amnesia and wandered off in a daze, wandering the streets of Canterlot, only to be lost in a deep dark magic cave beneath the city streets, transporting you to a magical land of fairies and evil enchanters, from which you could see no hope of escape ever agaaaaain!" Each building point draws towards a practically screamed crescendo before she beams and switches to her natural bouncy tone, “So we kept looking.” “Oh, you were worried?” Pinkie blinks, “Worried? Are you kidding?! Those are how all the best stories start! I was going to be jealous if that’s what happened.” “Oh… well, who told you about me? Did the guards find you?" You cock a brow as it doesn't seem like coincidence that brings them here. “Spike told us." Applejack shakes her head with a chortle. “Speaking of which,” you blink and quickly look around, “where is Spike?” Rarity had lingered by the stairs, apparently just unbuttoning her chiffon cloak and hanging it and a pair of scarves on a coat peg with a huff. “Last time we spoke, he said that the train would be ready soon, but not by tonight. Never fear, he'll turn up soon.” “Huh, well, that's alright, then." You tap the mug which makes a light musical chime. It doesn't need any extra incentive to look appealing to Pinkie. With a bit of a grin you ask, “So, did you find the book?” “Uh-huh." She follows the mug intently as you move it back and forth. “And you brought it with you?” “Yep." She shakes her head with that same bright grin. A faint flop of pages catches your attention as she shakes loose a small green and white pocketbook from beneath her mane. “D-did you just hide that book in your hair?” “Yah-hah." Pinkie scoops up the book and places it on the table, warranting a bit of an absent blink. “Where else would I keep it, silly? Ponies would expect a book to be in a book bag after all, and this is a secret.” It’s impressive either way. “Have fun." You push the treacle drink to her as she takes a seat. “So, why are ya' stayin' here instead of some fancy hotel?" Applejack hangs up her green and white scarf but keeps her hat. The farmpony's stiff legged limp is noticeable as she ambles towards your table. Burden down by a saddlepack, it isn't too heavy looking yet as she eases into a seat she hesitates, standing again before her hind leg quickly gives out. A quick gasp passes her lips as her bandaged leg reflexively kicks, scraping against the floor. Amid her pained breathing you can see everypony staring. You fold your hands and give her a quick quirked brow, “AJ, are you-” The blue Pegasus slips in next to you with a bump of her hip, “Shove over. Sooo, guess who made sure the whole plan went off without a hitch?" Rainbow asks with a smugness that belies any answer while setting her drink down with a loud 'bang'. Still, she cuts you off and her hardened glare says 'don't bring it up'. Applejack smirks, “Rainbow somehow managed to cobble it t'gether." She turns to fetch something from her saddlebacks. “Gee, thanks, AJ." The Pegasus scowls and flicks her tail with a snort. “Yer welcome. Now," her sarcastic monotone subsides as she takes advantage of the lull. Unfolding a long parchment scroll she leans over the table, “here we got just about everythin' that a pony'll need fer a week." The list is exceptionally long and itemized by name, quantity, then weight. Looking the list over, it’s obvious you'd made the right choice putting both Rainbow and Applejack in charge of their respective tasks. Sensing your hesitation, Applejack continues, “'Course, if'n we stay longer the list'll get a might bit longer, too. Gets more complicated takin' care of ponies.” “Um, if you don't mind me asking, where have you been all day, Rightly?" Fluttershy's voice barely punctures the noisy ambiance of the gatehouse tavern. “Oh, well, I went to the palace to speak with the princesses as planned.” Rainbow quickly cut you off again, “She give you any hints? Are we waiting for some royal guards, or Crystal guards, or maybe some sellswords?" Rarity makes a distraught 'eeugh' at the prospect of sellswords. Rainbow, that's getting annoying. You collect yourself and start again after clearing your throat. “Ahem, and I was promptly told to return Twilight Sparkle and I'm now a squire of the royal court-” Rarity draws a short surprised gasp and beams, “My-my, a squire? That's absolutely fanta-” “In temporary exile." You interrupt Rarity just like she did to you. “Exile?!" Four voices ask at once. You shrug and quickly try to phrase it properly. “Sort of. I'm not supposed to come back to Canterlot until we find Twilight, but this isn't technically Canterlot. Celestia wasn't well, Luna was even worse when I saw them.” “... Worse than Twilight looked?" Fluttershy poses the question hovering on everypony's lips. “Yes." Your friends exchange a number of concerned and confused stares. “Fluttershy, " you begin, which snaps the ponies out of their glazed stupor, “did you get the maps?” “Oh, well, yes. At least, I hope so." She trails off as your expression falls at the delay. She reaches into her saddlebag and retrieves a half-dozen folded up maps. Opening them up, you take them in at a glance. There aren't just the usual boundary maps and survey maps, but a topographical map, and a weather map with conditions and precipitation with an attached list that looked like a full schedule. “A weather map? This is all, nicely done, very nicely done, Fluttershy.” “Oh, it's nothing." Her false modesty was expected, but given the volume and detail of the information she's just provided, it’s a little irritating. “Rainbow Dash did a lot of the work. And she got the weather map from the Canterlot Weather Bureau.” The approval and support seemingly gave Rainbow license to keep her cocky gleam. “Well, I saw her hanging around one of the book tables, couldn't make a good move, so I decided to, heh, upset their book cart." One pony needed to be at the centre of attention, the other avoided the spotlight at all costs. As such, everything got done. Grinning from ear to ear you know Pinkie had come through, as did Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash. It leaves one critical area left. “Rarity, did you find anything?” “Indeed, I did." Rarity cringes despite her proclamation. She quickly rifles through her bag for a moment before tossing two manilla folders across the table. You open the far larger first folder and peruse the files, prompting Rainbow to peek over your shoulder with that obnoxious slurping of her drink. Rarity hisses, “They're ghouls. Every one of those so-called detectives. All of them start by saying that it was something they couldn't talk about, but then their real interest peeks out. Suddenly, they have an opinion on every every drop of blood and every horrible-horrible photo. It was awful, simply terrible. I do so hope you appreciate the effort it took to get these. I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a month.” “Alright, lets see." You begin to scan the pictures with a breath in your ear; Rainbow's cursory interest in the morbid pictures is certainly there. But there is a nervous little hesitation as you flip to the first picture: a ragged cut and a torn-off strip of flesh near a pony's spine exposes some of their innards. Rainbow flinches and looks away, keeping her eyes averted, which you really wish you could do. Knowing that it’s a thinking, breathing, living individual capable of reason and every other faculty makes the species difference non-existent. The dry anatomical charts and reports give way to more macabre photographs. Each photo has a relative date and location. “Vanhoover, Vanderhoof, White Tail Woods, all west, but moving east." You keep looking through the pictures. One catches your eye, matted hay and dim lights illuminate awkwardly daubed on glyphs. Whatever it is, blood, paint, or dye, it dribbled lightly and is applied carefully but imprecisely. You had seen it before: Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa Féower Upon meeting Celestia for the first time, she’d handed you that scrap of paper: ic ánþing gebannum. That phrase was written somewhere else, too, now that you think about it. “You got the right ones, Rarity.” It was in the Alicorn crypt that Olav found. “Thank Celestia." She remarks. Casting a glance up, Rarity's shoulders slump in relief. Even her brow seems to relax as if she had just left an incredibly stressful outing which it no doubt was if she had to hear and look over the pictures, too. “Wait." Switching two pictures around, you'd assumed it was different angles but it isn't quite right. “These are separate crime photos." Your eyes start scanning the pictures again. “There are three here with ‘Féower’ but only one with, 'An', ‘þréo,’ and 'Twá'. Who would leave the same note six times with only one repeated?” Your question is, at first, answered only with silence. “Different warnin's?" Applejack finally breaks that awkwardness with an absent shrug. A twitch of your mouth gets you to ponder that while voicing a non-committal 'hmm'. “Once or twice maybe, but three times with so little difference?" Rarity interjects and looks over. At least it’s stimulating some thought. Rainbow Dash shifts in her seat and pensively adds, “There's also a lot of easier ways to make a warning.” “Yah-huh! Like, well, biiiiig big letters, or a big flashy symbol, or a big flashy symbol with letters." Pinkie is right about that, too, “why write five funny lines instead of just quickly drawing a skull?” “She's got a point." You turn to the most magically talented individual at the table, “Rarity, could it be part of a spell?” Rarity takes a moment to ponder that while daintily biting her lip. “Well, this isn't my exact area of expertise, of course, but I could guess. Magic is written down so a user can learn it and comprehend it. A spellbook is like any other textbook. I can't recall ever hearing of a spell requiring something to be physically painted. Hmm, is that the only difference?” A thin 'hush' from Fluttershy garners both your attention and the Unicorn's, “Maybe we shouldn't talk about this here. It might upset the other patrons.” You mutter a quick 'sorry' as does the fashionista. The pictures might be disturbing, but Fluttershy is right, talking about something that sensitive is bound to cause problems. “It’s too late to be dinner, and too early to be breakfast, frankly I’m at a loss as to what to call it, but whatever it is I’m sure I can find us something delectable for our repast. Likewise, the accommodations might be a pedestrian but it shall have to do. Never fear, I’ll make all the arrangements." Rarity reluctantly stands. Hoping to stay in the royal palace, right? Pinkie quietly groans while looking back towards the fire, music, and patrons talking and having fun. There isn't much to be done until Spike comes with any word on when the train will be back on the rails. “Actually, it's all paid for, Rarity. Nice thing about being a squire by charge of Celestia. No point in you going upstairs already, Pinkie, or you, Fluttershy, Dash, Rarity." You look at each pony in turn. “If you want something to take your mind off it, we'll talk and get the most important parts down, then you can go back into town. I'm sure there's enough distractions. Plus, we'll need to send out for everything on AJ's list. I'm sure if we go out for it though, it'll be paid back later." Maybe shopping will provide a good distraction. Reaching for your pocket, you fish out your grey canvas sachet and listen to the slight jingle of bits and crinkle of paper. “I don't have much on me besides these, but this will go towards it if they don't take this." You scatter a handful of bits on the table then hold out the strips of promissory script. It isn't a significant pile, no more than twenty or thirty bits and a dozen slips of paper, but the golden coins would be worth a fortune back home. The white Unicorn almost seems to shy away from it, then nods with a sigh, taking the money reluctantly. “I'm sure I can make it go a fairly long way and I'll have a chat with the bartender. We'll let them keep one of these and just write up an account of anything we need tonight and tomorrow so we can keep just one script for that, then another two for train passage.” There are a few awkward pauses before another clatter of coins falls to the tabletop. Pinkie just smiles, “Just make sure there's a few tasty things in there, too. ‘Kay?" It gets a wide-eyed smile from Rarity. It only takes a few seconds before three more rattles scatter a few more collections of coins to the ever growing pile. Rarity has enough to get the best provisions and equipment now, even if all the script runs out. Looking around though, you know what the first worry on earth would be, and you don't want it to be an issue here either. “Rainbow, would you mind going shopping with her?” “Huh? Why?" A blink just gets her to look wide-eyed in your direction, as if wondering what you know that she doesn't. “Protection. Well, and we need the strongest pony to help give her a hand with everything, don't we?" Stroking her ego might as well be leading her around by a leash. That puffed-out chest and bright smile says she likes what she hears even if she'd have rather stuck around drinking, eating, and getting up to whatever mischief she could with Pinkie. “Yeah, I guess Rarity might need a bit of muscle. Just no window shopping, get in, get out.” “Fine." Rarity reluctantly concedes that with a conciliatory murmur, “It's too cold to stay out for long, anyway.” “Applejack, if you want, you can go upstairs and get some res-” “No can do, suga'cube." She waves her hoof, casual and stubborn in the same speck of time, “Ah'm fixin' ta get this all ready. And ah'm gonna' do just that.” “Alright, need help to get upstairs?” She finally glances back, revealing a moody flare in her narrowed eyes. “Ah ain't no inv’lid." The cold and commanding tone is enough to split stone. Rainbow's attempted warning really was fairly well-meant after all, “Ah'm stayin' here for a little bit anyhow.” Verbal acknowledgment dies in your throat as you gather up the folders and tap them in a pseudo-professional mien. “Okay, Rarity, tell us when everything's set up. I guess just meet here and leave a message for Spike. But you're staying here, right, Pinkie?” “I'll stay up and wait for him." Pinkie grins and tips the rest of the mug to get every last drop. “Of course." The snow-white Unicorn bobs her head and sweeps the collected bits into a small silk pouch before leaving with Rainbow Dash in tow. “Now, Rainbow, dear, it's not really window shopping if you have to get the absolute best; it's wisely pricing out the best and ensuring that everything is just so.” Rainbow's sigh of frustration melds with a mumbled, “I'm already regretting this." She unenthusiastically shuffles towards the door, biting her scarf and tossing it around her shoulders. I'm not regretting it one bit. You smirk and flip open the green and white handbook. “How hard could this be?” ♣ “What in Tartarus am I doing?" You grumble and scratch out another line of hastily scrawled text with a piece of charcoal which snaps and spits up a cloud of black dust. Sucking in a ragged breath of total frustration, you barely keep from growling at each and every little problem which builds up inside you. It’s like a mosquito, that high-pitched whine always hovering around your ear as one thing or another comes up in sequence and sends your mind off track. You are tired, and the atmosphere of a tavern with music, not to mention Pinkie organizing a line dance, had been counterproductive to actually learning. You wanted to head out towards Vanhoover and get to the bottom of this. However, the puzzling primer isn't unlocking as many mysteries as you had hoped. The primer itself isn't entirely helpful; it’s just telling you how the language is put together in thoroughly unintuitive academic terms. Some progress has been made, but you are no Twilight Sparkle and neither are you Twila Smythe. With a pencil in hand, spare parchment rolls under your elbow, and the splayed open primer on your lap, you try to decipher the language. All that effort results in seven pages of discombobulated notes and a dozen crumpled balls of paper. Another reflexive glance up towards the door doesn't help matters; Spike still hasn't arrived. Applejack might be right next to you, close enough to hear the puffs of breath when she snorted after finding another dead end path, but she had her back to the door so you are stuck on sentry duty. Pinkie is curled up in a cozy little ball near the fire, an empty mug rolling in front of her each time she lets out a breath. Shaking your head, the only sound is the crackle of the fire lapping at the edges of the hearth and the occasional hiss of a tallow candle in front of you. Rarity and Dash aren't back yet, either. Fluttershy's quietness makes her easily overlooked and her forehead is already resting on the table; each steady breath is too rhythmic and calm to be awake and her ears occasionally twitch with a snap or crackle from the otherwise quiet tavern. It is well after midnight, you probably should sleep, too, but the primer practically mocks you as you glance at the almost meaningless exercises and linguistic babble. You can probably understand it all in time, but time was something you can't afford. Looking closely again you sigh and cover your face with both hands. “Hard work, suga'cube?" Applejack must have let the pencil drop on her foreleg so you hadn't heard it. “Yeah, it's tough. Really tough. Worse yet, it's just the old version of a language I speak too. It’s just, well, all weird." The language was supposed to be English, but it sounded German: Add in a few 'mein herr's' and I bet most people wouldn't know the difference. “Well, why not focus on the cases?" She hisses and made to move before you pull your chair over to her instead. A swift smile of gratitude lights up her face before she extinguishes it and sets her hat aside. Her intent stare towards those folders prompts you to pick them up and quietly shuffle them in front of you so you could both see them. “Alright," you begin and look at her intent gaze as she stares at the folders and shifts in her seat to favour her uninjured flank. “Lets see what we've got here." you open the folder and quickly breeze through its contents: Whistling Hills, Vanhoover, 53rd of Summer: 1 instances of murder, 1 instance of kidnapping, 1 instance of assault. Reports indicate that the Glow family just south of Vanhoover was visited by relatives who found the scene. The premises had been entered and the door left open. The scent of decay was reported to the local constabulary. Constable Long Arm and Constable Silver arrive and discover the body of Golden Glow at the top of the stairs. The Pegasus mare sustained two deep gashes to the face and one to the left withers before succumbing to blood loss. A Unicorn mare, Willowsway, is discovered in the inside upstairs bedroom with a severe contusion to the head consisted with a twisted metal hinge from a dislodged door. Witness reports that the doors were not barred. Golden Glow went to investigate the front door. Willowsway was told to get Winsome Grey and head upstairs, to which she complied. A struggle erupted downstairs and several screams were heard. The upstairs door was battered down and a bent metal hinge struck her in the side of the head, piercing the skull. Willowsway is expected to make a full recovery. Winsome Grey has not been found and the witness can give no description of her assailant. A message is found in the downstairs hallway several feet from the door: Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa þréo The daubing compound is found to be a mix of liquified west coast red clay mixed with blood. Willowsway is described as a middle aged, thin framed Unicorn mare with a russet coat, curly emerald mane and tail, and teal eyes. Her cutie mark depicts a mortar and pestle. Golden Glow is described as a middle aged, medium framed Pegasus mare with a golden yellow coat, wavy grey mane and tail, and emerald eyes. Winsome Grey is described as a young, heavy framed Unicorn colt with a grey coat, straight platinum white mane and tail, and blue eyes. His cutie mark depicts a pale crescent moon. Prairie Dale Park, Vanderhoof, 1st of Autumn: 1 instance of murder, 1 instance of kidnapping. Initial reports were filed for a pair of missing sisters on the 79th day of Summer. Chiffon Quilts and Paisley Quilts. Later, the body of Chiffon, a Unicorn, is in the open several yards from a walking path where visible signs of a scuffle drew a passerby; there was no attempt made to hide the scene or move the body. She was killed with the single stroke of a heavy bladed weapon. Paisley Quilts has not been found. Inspector Brackish makes notation that the bladed weapon had a great deal of cutting power and might be from an axe. Inspector Keenly dismissed this as axes lack the thin cutting blade and suggests a large Griffonic butcher knife or perhaps even a sword. A message was found written on a nearby outcropping fifteen feet from the body (refer to Whistling Hills case for similar details): Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa Féower Chiffon Quilts is described as a younger, medium framed, Unicorn mare with a pale green coat, curly golden mane and tail, and magenta eyes. Her Cutie mark depicts a ball of yarn and crossed knitting needles. Paisley Quilts is described as an older, thin framed, Unicorn filly with a raspberry red coat, curly golden mane and tail, and russet eyes. Her cutie mark depicts a quilted clover leaf. The Hoofington Post has learned of the incident and several others in its wake despite the files being opened only to senior detectives by royal decree. The murderer has been dubbed 'The Unicorn Slasher.' North Run, White Tail Woods, 45th of Autumn: 1 instance of murder. Running of the leaves contestant stumbled upon brambles near a wood shed. A wounded Unicorn mare named Many Bags was found with multiple deep contusions on her neck. A series of superficial cuts were initially determined to be from an animal attack, but a single deep wound between her shoulder blades is the evident cause of death. Fragmented iron flecks found in the wound indicate it was from an iron device and the depth and width are consistent with an axe. The victim dies in transit to Vanhoover south hospital. A single message is found written in the dirt not far from the scene of the initial attack (refer to Whistling Hills and Prairie Dale cases for similar details): Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa Féower Many Bags is described as being an older, medium framed Unicorn mare with a dull orange coat, pale grey mane and tail, and magenta eyes. Her cutie mark depicts a pair of chiffon and canvas bags. Mount Vermin Park, Tall Tale, 56th of Autumn: 1 instance of murder A sightseeing pony named Shutterbug finds body of Unicorn stallion in tulip field due to a distinct odour. The victim is a local named Highbrow who lives with his new wife Sea Gold. There are no signs of a struggle but it is apparent he was pursued for a distance of perhaps thirty paces. Highbrow was killed with three to five blows to the neck resulting in massive blood loss and physical trauma to the spine. The wound dimensions are consistent with a blow from an axe. Several superficial hooking lacerations found on his flanks. Local wildlife are expected to be cause. Time of death may be as early as the 40th of Autumn. Sea Gold returned a week later on the 63rd of Autumn after a vacation to visit family. Inspector Brackish finds a message near the original site of the pursuit (refer to Whistling Hills, Prairie Dale, and North Run cases for similar details): Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa Féower Highbrow is described as a middle-aged, heavy framed Unicorn stallion with a deep blue coat , curly smoke grey mane and tail, and green eyes. His cutie mark depicts a black top hat resting on a silver cane. Vanhoover Central, Vanhoover, 2nd of Winter: 1 instance of murder. A local earth-pony, Prospect Peat, discovers body of a Unicorn mare in alleyway. The victim, Hail Bop, was left in plain sight and died due to multiple blows to the back of the neck. The debilitating strike may have come from an ambush but there were signs of a struggle. The body was found promptly and there was little time for decay or contamination, but several raven feathers were found at the scene. Next of kin have been notified. A message was written on the alleyway wall in the victim's blood (refer to Whistling Hills, et. al, cases for similar details): Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa Féower Hail Bop is described as an older, medium framed Unicorn filly with a deep violet coat, curly grey and white streaked mane and tail, and fuchsia eyes. Her cutie mark depicts a single telescope. A bounty of 500 bits has been offered by the Gentlemare's Axillary of Vanhoover as a result for any information leading to an arrest. “Hmm." You show Applejack the images every time, and while she looks unsettled, she does look them over with a cursory glance and a wince. You shrug, then just point out, “It's weird.” She nods then points at the other folder, “Where's that one?” “Hmm?" You look at it and quickly open that folder with a 'ah' of recollection, having passed by the rather small folder in comparison. Ice Wine Farm, Vanhoover North, 41st of Summer: 1 instances of kidnapping, 1 instance of assault. First responders were called to a home north of Vanhoover after reports of screaming came from a seasonal home. Constable Outreach and Inspector Maple were dispatched from Vanhoover North Precinct. Entering the home, they made their way to the basement and were ambushed. Constable Outreach was severely wounded in the altercation and suffered a debilitating wound to the back, leaving him paralyzed. Constable Outreach claims he saw another pony in the basement and that they were attacked by a large giant, perhaps a minotaur. Constable Outreach has been admitted to Riverview Institution in Vanhoover for observationon. Inspector Maple has yet to be found, though the presence of blood suggests there was an altercation. Writing was found on the basement wall near a work bench: Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa án A second nearly identical message was found written on the opposite wall near the stairs Befæsten fífirúnwitan ic ánþing gebannum fífincundnessa ond bréosthord gebrogdene fífigéosceaftas bótum ætstalas hwonne áne ácordaþ, sy ácumendlicnessa Twá Constable Outreach is described as a young, medium framed Earth-pony stallion with a light blue coat, straight beige mane and tail, and green eyes. His cutie mark depicts a pair of hoofcuffs. Inspector Maple is described as a middle-aged, medium framed Unicorn mare with a taupe coat, slightly curled grey mane and tail, and blue eyes. Her cutie mark depicts a single red maple leaf. “So, that'n should come first." Applejack firmly points at the kidnapping and assault file. “'Cause it happened first.” “It should... huh, guess they were more focused on the murder links." You shrug and reorganize the file. “So look at what's different in each'n. What's the thing's that don’t make a lick of sense, and what sounds true?" Applejack gives you a firm tap on your forehead with a hoof and a hoarse whisper, “that'll knock some sense inta' ya. Besides, that's fer that grab on the train.” You rub the tender spot in the centre of your forehead, “Ow.”