Say what you will of Fable 3's lack of gameplay but..I still stand by its top notch presentation.
The party arrives at Caladon after days of traveling by sea...
So, Virgil. What do you know of Caladon?
I see. Geoffrey?
Caladon? Oh, not a bad place...better than Tarant, but not much. Full of old nobles who wouldn't know good taste from their rumpled bloomers. And they've still got a bloody king here! Talk about antiquated political views! It's enough to make a man toss his crumpets.
(With a little luck, the king won't be around for much longer...) I see. Well, let's find this Victor Misk, shall we? Excuse me, good guard...
Can you direct me to the home of Victor Misk?
I believe it is over on Gray Wolf Terrace, near Rosemary's shop.
Thank you, I must be going. Mmm, what's that you're carrying, Seb?
Just a newspaper some local discarded, looks like serious business. Take a look. *Hands the newspaper.*
By the gods! Why is it everywhere we go, there's always trouble?
Preying on prostitutes? How despicable!
I know I cannot dissuade you from pursuing this, sir...but can we at least try to find this Victor Misk first?
Of course, Virgil. That's what we're here for!
Gilford spies a man hanging out at the alley. The man returned his glance and gave him an acknowledging nod.
Trouble?
No...just an acquaintance. Good to see you, brother.
The usual, please.
The roguish gentleman leaned closer and whispered into Gilford's ears. Satisfied, Gilford thanked the man and walked away.
What was that about?
Just some jobs need doing and rumors in the city. Now..let's head over to Victor Misk's residence, shall we?
Yes. Might I ask who you are?
Of course, sir. I am Wesley Carrington, the butler here at the Misk household.
Splendid, where can I find Mr. Victor Misk?
*His face goes pale.* You haven't heard? Oh, I see. Perhaps you ought to speak with Mrs. Misk. She's in the parlor, sir...
(Strange reaction.) I'll do that. Thank you, Wesley...(Hmmm, that book display looks tempting...is that what we're looking for?)
Durin's Truth? Doesn't seem like it...Mmm, excuse me, miss?
The LATE Mr. Misk? He's dead?
Yes...he just recently passed...we put him in the ground not four days ago.
I'm very sorry for your loss, madam. (Who could possibly have got to him? The Molochean Hand? Or was it the Dark Elves?) Have you a moment?
Certainly...
Could I ask you a few question about Victor?
What would you like to know about him?
What happened to him?
He drowned...*Tears well up in her eyes.* They found him down by the docks, washed up onto the shore. We hadn't seen him for days, but he had been....that way...for the past few months.
What do you mean, 'that way'?
Victor became...*sob* unbalanced..in the last few months of his life. He began having delusions, frequent anxiety attacks...ever since they released that cursed book.
You mean 'The Curse of T'sen-Ang' by Kendrick Wales?
Yes...once the book was released here in Caladon, he became convinced he was going to be the next victim of that so-called curse. I tried to comfort him, to tell him it was all an author's conjecture, but he just wouldn't listen. He would say, "they got my old dad, and now they're coming for me..." We buried him a month later...
Where was the funeral?
At the Caladon cemetery. It's northwest of here, near the Panarii Temple..
Could I ask you about "Horror Among the Dark Elves"?
What would you like to know about the book?
Do you still have a copy of it?
No...up until the last two weeks, Victor carried it on his person all the time. Then one day he came home and told us he had hidden it "somewhere that only he and his old Dad would know." We all thought it very strange, but, by then, there wasn't much about Victor that wasn't.
(Hmm...perhaps his dad is still alive.) How did it get out that Victor still owned a copy?
*Anger flashes in her eyes.* I don't know! We had kept it a secret for so very long...only Victor and I knew, as well as some of our servants..but none of them would ever had said anything...they're like family to us, and we've always treated them so well...
Perhaps Mr. Wales paid one of them a hefty sum for the information?
Yes, yes I know. And we did ask all of them, but all of them denied any complicity in the matter. I trust them all..and besides, I've no proof to the contrary. I suppose I'd be grateful if someone were to look into the matter.
I'd be honored to offer my services.
Any help would be appreciated. The servants are around the house...feel free to speak with them.
Before that, what can you tell me about Victor's father?
Victor's father, Phillip Misk, was an avid collector of books...at one time he had the largest collection in all of Caladon. He died in a fire...it was deduced that he had fallen asleep in his study while smoking a cigar...something had caught fire, and he was killed in the blaze. Most of his collection was lost in the fire.
But not 'Horror Among the Dark Elves'
No...but Victor didn't find it for many years..it had been hidden in an old chest in the attic of our summer home. It seems Victor's paranoia may have been an inherited trait..
Doesn't it seem strange that both died somewhat mysteriously..?
I don't share that view, sir. *Tears flow again* I'm not a superstitious woman. I miss my Victor more than anything, but I put no stock in such tripe. Both victor and his father were victims of chance and circumstance. I'll hear no more talk of it.
Well...I'll leave you to that. (Ignorance is bliss, they say. I guess I'll start investigating on who leaked the secret.) Excuse me, Wesley..
Yes?
I have some questions about that book of Mr. Wales'...
*His eyes widen, slightly.* You mean 'The Curse of Tsen-Ang'? That rubbish? I'm surprised you'd have the audacity to mention the name of it in this house, sir. Especially knowing what it did to Mr. Misk.
Forgive me, but I'm looking into the matter for Mrs. Misk.
*He narrows his eyes further.* Are you insinuating that I might have sometihng to do with that, sir?
(How very defensive.) I didn't say that, Wesley. Perhaps you might be able to help me..
*He looks relieved.* Good, good. I've been a loyal servant to the Misk's for many years. I'd hate to think that Mrs. Misk didn't trust me any longer.
Is there anything you know that might help me?
*He looks around, lowering his voice.* I'm not one to talk bad about people., but if you're looking for a place to begin your search, I'd go no further than Brinda, the maid. She may not look it, but she's...*He's almost whispering* a HALF-ORC. You just never know...
(Riiight.) An interesting theory, Wesley. Is there anything else you can tell me?
No. It just infuriates me that someone would betray Mr. Misk. I hope you find out who the responsible party.
I'll do my best, Wesley. Good day to you...
Hope you won't waste time talking with the maid.
Oh, why is that?
Say what you want about half-orcs, but they're the last person I want to bribe to get information. A human, like me, however...
Mmm. Point taken. So you'd betray my secrets for a few hundred gold?
Heh, you? I wouldn't be tempted. You'd find me and tear me apart with a demon. Why would I want that? Here, I found something under the couch...
What's this?
A passport. The butler's. 25 Dragon's Turnbabout. Let's drop by later.
Sounds like a good place to start. *Leaves the house.*
Err, what should we do sir?
The book. It must still be somewhere...intact. I seriously doubt Victor is holding on to it when he died. He isn't that stupid. We need to look for more clues...
Well, I guess most of his secrets are taken to his grave...pity..
That's it! *Snaps finger.*
What?
There must be some clue he took with him. Into his grave perhaps. Literally.
You're mad.
Let's dig it up! Come, the cemetery is just next door!
But I...uh..very well..
Virgil? (He's ignoring me? How unusual.)
Virgil finally stopped after passing several rows of headstones. He gazes at the headstone and closed his eyes while whispering inaudible words.
(Who's that?)
Virgil..what are you doing here? Who's grave is this?
Nothing...I...*He lowers his head.* This is..someone I used to know. Many years ago..I...just...thought I should stop by to pay my respects...
Lawrence Brummond..? Was he a friend of yours?
Lawrence was my..uh...my friend. We grew up together. In Tarant, actually. Our, uh, families...moved to Caladon when we were older. He died in an...accident. *He struggles with the words.* A terrible accident....
What happened?
I don't want to talk about it. Please...let's just be on our way.
Fine. Let's go.
I'm sorry....I..well, forget it.
Why don't you just tell me, Virgil?
Perhaps another time...
The search for Victor Misk's grave was on. And it didn't take long for the party to find it...
Well. This is it. Let's dig in!
It appears the modern society frowns at digging up several weeks old corpses in broad daylight. Who would've thought?
Oh, shut up.
We'll come back tonight. With a shovel.
Yeah. Let's leave.
The party's travel through the streets of Caladon, seeking out the 25 Dragon's Turnabout. Gilford stumbles upon a guarded house along the way...
What is happening here?
Have you not been reading the newspapers? There's a murderer on the loose. This is where one of his grisly murders occurred.
Perhaps I can help find the murderer.
Hah! That's all we need, an amateur detective. You'd best be speaking with Chief Inspector Henderson if you want to pursue your fantasy any further. I am sure he will welcome your offer of help with his characteristic joy. Hehehe.
Where can I find this chap?
At the police station, of course. 5 Saints Ave, off Temple Road.
Thanks.
Are you serious?
He's TOTALLY serious. He's solved theft, murders, and committed wholesale slaughter of an entire prison colony as well as an elven village in the Glimmering Forest.
Geoffrey...
Not to mention his irresistible ability to extract information by drawing the spirits of the dead. Like I do!
*Blinks.* Devil's balls! I have to see that myself!
*Sighs.* Look, either way, we're not getting in without the police chief permission, but I'm sure the neighbors can provide some information...So let's check them out.
( Maybe this isn't such a good idea.) Working for who?
*He says nothing for a moment, his eyes darting from side to side, perhaps looking for best escape route.* You know who. The day has finally come, is that it? Arthur Tyron has become too dangerous to be allowed to stay alive?
You're Arthur Tyron? de Cesare sent me.
*He grabs Alain.* The skulls! Have you brought the skulls?
Yes, here they are...
*He examines them with barely contained excitement.* Yes, yes! It is all coming together, now.
What is?
I have uncovered a plot the ramifications of which could bring down the government of Tarant! But I will need your help to finish my work...
*Grins.* This should be good.
Is that so? (He could be mad...but people who are closer to the truth usually appear so.)
*His eyes dart around again, suspiciously.* Haven't you ever wondered where all these half ogres are coming from? A hundred years ago, an half ogre was a rare thing, usually the result of raping and pillaging. But human women aren't...equipped to birth a baby the size of an half ogre.
That is rather strange, I'd never thought of it before.
*He leans in close to you, intensity dripping from his brow.* They are breeding them! They've enslaved women and are forcing them to mate with ogres, I tell you!
That's it, off to mental institution you go!
Who is...who's doing this?
Oh, come on!
The gnomes! The gnomes of the industrial council in Tarant! Haven't you ever noticed that every gnome seems to have at least one or two half ogres always following him around? They're breeding them for protection.
*Draws his revolver.* Watch your mouth! Gilford, he's saying Willoughsby did all that? Seriously?
Calm down, Seb. How did you find out about all of this?
The Siamese twins were the result of their first twisted breeding experiments! They tried to breed elves with orcs to produce a breed of extremely strong, resilient mages that they could then control. This was before it was obvious that technology would one day rule Arcanum, of course.
So what happened?
The twins were the only viable offspring to come from those experiments. They were scheduled to be put to death, but they disappeared from the laboratory before their termination could take place. They appeared in high society some 20 years later. We believe they must have been under the protection of a powerful ally of ours on the council for them to have survived that long.
Who is this ally of yours on the council?
No one knows. I have communicated with him in the past through codes in the newspaper and other surreptitious means.
All this is very interesting, Tyron. But I need proof.
Through my research, I've discovered the most likely location for this breeding facility is a small island I've dubbed 'Half Ogre Island', near Thanatos. You would need to find a way into their laboratories to bring me some sort of evidence I can use to expose them to the world!
Assuming all this is true, why not have de Cesare do it?
Sir Matt de Cesare is dead.
....I suppose I'll do it.
Excellent! Here, let me mark your map with the location of the island. And don't speak with anyone about this, it could be... unhealthy, for you and me.
So...you're going to check out this laboratory, or take this man to the police for slander?
I'll do the latter...
I'm glad you have some sense in you...*Holster his revolver.*
...after I do the former.
WHAT?
I want to know the truth.
Look, you're sodding mad! There is no way Mr. Willoughsby and the rest of the Tarantian Council would resort to such....inhuman practices!
Then you have nothing to fear by heading into the island. Or are you afraid of the truth?
Fine. But you're paying for the trip!
The party set sail towards the Half Ogre Island.
Looks abandoned...
Could be a prison colony for all we know..abandoned perhaps.
I see outdoor cages from a distance...
Which are empty, right? That settles it!
Let's head in. *Pushes the door open*
The Music Box
Seb, what are these...?
Metallic tables...with unclear use, with tubes running over it, connected to several cylinders greeted the party. Reddish with rust, a strange large empty tubs sits against the wall, the inside stained with reddish rust or possibly...blood.
This..is...I don't know...
Look at that table...restraining implements?
This place really gives me the creeps!
Large bones...Half Ogre perhaps?
Let's ...not jump to conclusions...
There is a large...chest here..
A safe..not locked....*Opens it.*
The rusty safe's doors opened with a loud snap. An electrical trap was discharged!
Whoa!
Look out!
Then....nothing.
Looks like it fizzled...you're too magickal..carry on.
A book. Looks like a journal.
Well, what is it? Out with it!
It's true...Seb, let's go outside.
No, damn you! Show me the book!
These cages...they probably house the captured women...
*Reads the book.* This is..impossible!
If Willoughsby's involved...*Tightens his grip on the cage's bar.*
He'll pay.
The party sailed back to Caladon, only to find it was not Arthur Tyron awaiting their return...
Music:
Brightwall
Who are you? Where is Tyron?
I do not know. I was meant to meet him here, we were to exchange information.
I don't believe you. What have you done with him?
I could be asking you the same thing, barging into his house, uninvited. I have been a colleague of his for quite some time, and he never mentioned you...but I do know who you are, and what you have recently acquired. Something that could be...damning to certain parties, yes?
No. What makes you think that I have?
Ah...I see you are wary. That is smart, as the trail we are following is a dangerous one. *He thinks for a moment.* Very well, I will share with you the information I have gathered, and you can decide for yourself whether to believe me or not. I'm not certain how much of it I believe myself, but this is what I've found out.
*Holds his hand over the revolver.*
I'm listening.
About fifty, fifty five years ago, a group of gnomes from various party of Arcanum began to acquire large amounts of money from investments in the new technology. As their wealth and perceived influence began to grow, age old prejudices began to surface. Gnomes were thought to be miserly thieves. The other races dd not trust them to gain power.
Go on.
There were thefts, beatings, and threats. Mysterious letters in the night, warning the 'little gnomes' to keep to their place. The gnomes tried human bodyguards, to no avail. Any human that would be a bodyguard to a gnome at that time was, by definition, an untrustworthy, shiftless sort. At first they tried, unsuccessfully, to breed elves and orcs into some bestial magic hybrid to do their bidding...
The Siamese Twins...
Exactly. But you know all about what happened with them, now, don't you? It was a foolhardy idea to begin with, at any rate. Orcs have a natural dislike for gnomes, and the gnomes needed something much more docile.
I'm listening.
The next obvious choice seemed to be half ogres. Tired of being hunted, and the promise of large amounts of food gained the gnomes extremely loyal bodyguards. But there was a problem. An half ogre was a very rare thing in those days, and with good scientific reasons for being so. And the gnomes without bodyguards were used as leverage against those protested.
Please, continue.
The greatest concentration of these gnomes were in Tarant, which was still a monarchy at the time. They pleaded with the king for his help, but the last thing king wanted was a group of rich banker gnomes with power in his kingdom. The beatings continued, and the king and his court turned a blind eye to their plight. That was when, well, let's call him Mr. X, decided to act.
Mr. X?
Yes. He hired a prostitute to go home with him one evening, and he locked her in his basement, where he also happened to be keeping a full blooded ogre. You can imagine what happened then. She died giving birth, as was to be expected, but Mr. X now had his future bodyguard. He recruited some other gnomes, and the kidnappings began in earnest.
(That was...the beginning?) What happened then?
For safety's sake, they set up a 'breeding laboratory' on the island you visited. Their plan wasn't working out as well as they had hoped, as the women all died giving birth. And the more prostitutes that disappeared, the more the authorities were looking into their affairs. They decided to try surgical means of delivery, but the women were too sickly to survive that.
(The metallic tables...those were surgical implements!) Go on.
This is when the king's hirelings discovered what was happening. Unfortunately, for the king, though, the gnomes had become incredibly rich in this time, rich enough, in fact to purchase the king's murder, and the kidnappings of the queen and her young son. Rumors began circulating immediately, pointing to the queen as the killer of her husband.
The monarchy...well, how should one phrase it?..became,uh, "outdated" about 50 years ago.
(Willoughsby! He was Mr. X? Or part of this whole conspiracy?!) The queen was brought to the island, wasn't he?
Yes, she was the patient in the first successful operation. She mothered three before she passed, I believe. Soon after the Industrial Council gained power in Tarant, the disappearance of prostitutes began to slow down, but a mysterious rash of disappearances of the wives and daughters of the political enemies of the council began.
(Oh no...) That is horrible!
They only lasted for a short time, however, as they now had bred enough half ogre females to no longer need to rely on human breeders. They have hundreds of them now, kept in cages on a breeding farm, somewhere. They kept this whole thing in a cloud of mystery by releasing half truths, lies, and even real information through unstable individuals like Tyron.
So no one believes any of it?
Exactly.Everyone believes it to be the imaginings of madmen and paranoids.
Is this all true?
That's a good question. We must not be too anxious to believe it because we want it to be true, or too anxious to disbelieve it because we want it to be false. We must remain neutral in our decision as to whether it is true or not.
What? That's absurb! It is either true or it isn't!
Hmmmm. Then none of it is true. Well, maybe some of it.
You! You're with them all along!
*Draws his revolver.*
I'll bring proof to the press! I'll expose this whole thing!
What do you have? Nothing! You have a 'journal' that was left for you to find on purpose, which could have been written last week. What have you seen? Why, I believe you saw an abandoned warehouse, nothing more, save what your twisted imagination made it out to be.
Why are you doing this? *Tightens his fists.*
We always need more 'converts' to spread the word. You might have had real information, but now you don't know anything. What have I told you that is real? Feel free to tell anyone everything I have told you. I am sure the press would love to hear your story. Perhaps. Good to you, sir, it has been a pleasure.
(They controlled everything from the very beginning...They took out the monarchy. Bred the half ogres...the press is probably under their control. I must...have something to strike them back with. I...) *Loosens his fist.*
Sir...we have to go...there's nothing left for us to do...
Does he die?
No...it changes nothing...the whole of Tarant.....*Leaves the house.* What am I protecting?
I think we should make a zombie out of that gnome.
So, this is 'power'. Times have changed.
Gilford, we can't let the Council get away with this!
I know...I...I KNOW! *Starts running.*
Sir, where are you going?! Wait!
I was here for something! If the Council is thinking of using me...well, they're wrong! I can still fight back! I remembered why I'm here! *Stops.*
We're here....
The Caladon Palace? But...
Huff..huff...you...are you?
Yes, Renard. I'm here for the negotiations.