Meinrad stands dumbfounded. Then looks at Amris and Fronika.
“I can’t do this alone. Can someone come with me… Please?”
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Fronika sighs, already walking in the direction of the child’s home. She mumbles some curses about the crankiness of a certain female mercenary, then calls for Meinrad to follow. Her feelings are mixed - she feels pity for the child, as one who has gone through a similar tragedy - but she knows that the only way to move on is to fully accept the truth.
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You are both saved a bit of a walk. The boy’s mother was at the fringe of the onlookers, and she intercepts you as you move away from the remains. Her face is grim, and she clutches a shawl tightly against the night’s chill.
“Heard all the noise, an’ figured you lot might be involved. That thing… was a man-eating monster right? I ain’t a fool, 'tis likely me husband was et by it, right?” she gives a little sniff, and swallows hard.
“Folk go missing down here all the time, ain’t like I had any hope that he’d be coming back. Jus’ let me speak to my boy myself.” With that she brushes past you to return home.
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Meinrad sighs, deeply. It’s both a relief, and a real grim look at the reality of this world.
“Losing a loved one, just like that… this shouldn’t happen to anyone. Much less a kid. Like their lives was not hard enough as is.”
He spits on the ground
“It’s a cruel world, and I feel sometime the gods are only here to enjoy our misery.” he looks around “but bless Sigmar obviously”.
And he’ll go back toward the group, heading for the watch house.
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((Unless there’s anything else, we’ll cut to you arriving back at the Watch barracks))
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Fronika raises an eyebrow ar Meinrad’s casual dismissal of Sigmar, and his opinion of the gods, but leaves it be.
(I’m good!)
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Brilliant… 
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I’m guessing there is no chance for digging out my bullets from the troll’s body? I know I cut the head off but I’m not about to go digging too far into it to find them! I’ve checked how expensive shot is…
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(Else stocked up on quite a few rounds earlier on. I’ll give a tally in a bit as we wrap the scene up with XP and the rest. I think historically pistol and musket balls deformed quite substantially depending on what they hit (i.e. bone vs passing through meatier body parts). I would ask the question: knowing that black powder weapons are notoriously unreliable and dangerous, is the risk of re-using spent shot worth the added danger? If the balls have been damaged, possibly in a way that is not visible to the eye (I’m thinking hairline fractures), then they might shatter next time they are fired.)
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You trudge back through the night time streets of Ubersriek, dampness from the low hanging fog starting to seep into your clothes. You barely see anyone bar the odd drunk stumbling home from a session in the tavern.
Meinrad, your arm slowly becomes less numb, and eventually you regain the full feeling of your fingers. There’s something that’s niggling at the back of your mind, something you saw that you didn’t recognise at the time, but felt unusual. It nags like an itch that won’t go away, until you finally pin it down just before entering the Watch building. The people that were speaking hurriedly to the one-eyed lady back in the slums had something bundled under their cloaks, and you caught a flash of distinct red and blue cloth. Too late to do anything about it now, but it seemed very out of place in the downtrodden district that was characterised by grimy drab and earthy colours.
As you enter the building, the Duty Officer is busy scratching something with a quill onto a sheet of parchment at the main desk. Two officers in the yellow and black colours of the Ubersreik Watch are also present. A wiry looking woman lounges languidly in a chair, one boot propped against the table, whilst her companion leans against the wall, cleaning his finger nails with a knife. He’s a Midderlander by the looks, tall and well-muscled with blond hair shaven down to the scalp and a nose that’s been broken a dozen times. The woman gives you a hostile glare as you enter “Hey Schmidt, its Rudi’s press ganged crims. If ever there was a sign of the dire times, just take a look at that shower.” The big guy just grunts, not even bothering to acknowledge you with a glance.
The Duty Officer frowns as you come in. “Aren’t you lot supposed to be on day shift? Don’t tell me you gone and cocked up the rota…” he sighs in exasperation.
Else heaves the package with the dismembered head onto the desk.
“Missing persons on the Teufel. Solved…”
(We’d know as characters what blue and red signified, yes?)
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The Duty Officer looks at the blood soaked bag with apprehension, and tentatively opens it up. “By Sigmar, it that a troll’s head?!”
This draws the attention of the two other Watchmen. “Ulfric’s teeth, he’s an ugly one!” mutters the big guy, whilst the female officer looks mildly impressed.
“Was it properly dead? Did you burn it to be sure?” the Duty Officer asks, wrinkling his nose up at the smell.
(The colours have been mentioned a fair bit in descriptions of events, so your characters might make a connection. Or jump to a conclusion.)
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“We didn’t burn it no… But where could it go without a head? Anyway, I’m sure we could go back and do it, if we really need to.”
(I think I’m forgetting what blue and red is supposed to remind us of? Is it aldorf’s colors?)
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Bingo!! 
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“Heard stories of these growing back lost arms, heads too! Honestly, the only way to deal with any dead body is to burn it. Or you get those folks that practice the dark arts bringing 'em back!”
He seems to be getting a little worked up over the issue, and you hear a groan and someone whisper “Here we go again…”
The Duty Officer cataches the muttering, and looks very annoyed, but there’s a cruel glint in his eye. “Schmidt, Visser, get out there and go find this thing’s body and make sure it gets burnt.”
The woman signs “C’mon Sarge, we just dragged in those half-sized thugs that were menacing the Marktplatz. Schmidt needs to get the teeth mark scrubbed out of his greaves.”
“Get gone Visser. You two are the only night shift here, and you’re just idling.”
“Like you ain’t idling yourself” Visser grouses, but she hauls herself out of her chair and pulls a cap down and starts to leave. “Oh look, it’s started to rain again…” she sighs as she sees the downpour from the doorway that has just started. “Schmidt, best grab some oil or we’ll never burn anything in this.” The big guy sticks his knife into his belt, and disappears into one of the store rooms, quickly returning with a bag over one shoulder, and lantern and a hooded cloak. The pair depart, with Visser flashing you all an angry smile as she leaves “Thanks for leaving us your dirty work.”
The Duty Officer watches smugly as they head into the wet, and turns his attention back to you. “Right, you’re still due back on day shift, so clear off.”
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Else will front up to Visser as she leaves, hands resting on her pistols.
“Seems we’re the ones doing your work - this beast has been terrorising the folk of Dunkelfeucht at night for ages. How long was it before you did something?”
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“If you hadn’t noticed, we all work both day and night shifts. Plus the Dunkelfeucht ain’t our beat. The docks and slums are the preserve of the wet behind the ears recruits and those who are best kept away from the more well to do. So wind your neck in love.” She blows you kiss, happy to have hit a sore spot and successfully wound you up, and steps into the rain with a smile on her face.
Else will snarl and make a mental note to investigate THAT one for corruption as soon as the opportunity arises… (its a long list…)
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The Duty Officer wears a smirk as he watches you front up with Visser, but his expression sours when he realises there’s still a trolls’ head on his desk, and that the blood has starting to creep across the desk onto his paperwork.
((I’ll be wrapping up that scene and awarding XP etc tomorrow. Feel free to RP and banter away in the meantime))
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“Can you believe these people ! We almost diesd and we don’t even get a ‘Thank you!’? Well, let me at least say it : Thank you Else, thank you Fronika, thank you Amris. I’ll be honest, when that thing hit me, I thought for sure I was a gonner.”
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