Garde Solutions 2 - Explore Town

You leave the Famille inn in the morning after your coffee and eggs, but Madame does warn you to return before midnight.
“Why?” You ask.

“The town has a quite active night life, but the streetlamps are only kept alive until midnight. After that the streets are... Safe. But as a pretty young woman you should not be out by yourself in the dark.”

“Noted.” It is not that unreasonable a statement. You've lived in cities all your life and the general principle holds true. Even if a place is safe, you need to mitigate the odds that things will become unsafe. It is rather unfair, but such is the life of a girl. You reason that if you could find a reliable partner you would be able to take your chances alone in the dark after midnight. Until then you decide it is probably best to heed her warnings.

The streets of Jersey are lively for a small port town. You are in an unfamiliar place but you do not lack confidence in these European country towns. You had been stationed in and around them throughout most of the war. With a tourist map you begin 'sightseeing.' It is preferable that the locals do not realize you are an investigator. The people you walk past are not cautious and seem happy. There are a few couples walking to the shops and many individuals on bicycles. The winding, narrow cobble-paved streets are perfect for them. The city certainly is not designed for cars, though you do happen to be forced against the walls of an old home at one point due to a police car rolling insistently down the road without any intent on stopping. Inside are two orcs in the blue and gold police uniform. An odd sight, but not all Germanian descendants fought in the war on the side of the empire. It is common to find immigrants holding rank in various organizations.

Walking further down the street, a ginger woman in a red scarf hands you a flier. “Union demonstration. Every week.” She explains before you have a chance to ask. Looking down at the flier it is a simplistic illustration of a woman in overalls holding a wrench up to the sky.
“Could use the support, sis.” She adds, pulling her scarf up over her nose as it begins to slide down.

“Dangerous work promoting this stuff?” You question, mostly noting her desire to hide her face.

“Not as dangerous as leaving things the way they are.” She shrugs and adds casually.
“But yeah. I've been knocked around a few times.”

“How do you know I'm not here to knock you around?” You aren't but it is a worthwhile question to ask.

The ginger eyes you up and down. “A girl in pants and a coat? You're more likely to ask me on a date, right sis?”

“Less likely.” You blush, tilting your hat down over your eyes. You are not opposed, but also not driven towards such things.

You can tell by the look in the girl's eyes that she is smiling knowingly at you. “A shame. Anyway, you haven't knocked me around. Yet.”

“Who's been knocking you around? The police?”

“The police don't do anything for us. So I guess in a way they are?” She gives the street around you both a quick glance before saying.
“The PNT.”

“PNT?”

“You new? Parti National des Travailleurs. They have their rallies, but they can never seem to mind their own business. They want similar things but also have a hard on for separatism and such.”

“What'd you ever do to piss them off?”

“Nothing!” She says defensively.
“They're just jerks.”  She pulls her scarf up over her nose once again as it starts to fall down.
“Anyway, I gotta go, sis.” She begins to walk with the stack of fliers under her arm.

“Wait.”  She stops and looks at you.
“Don't worry, I'm not asking you out. What's your name?”

“Not yet, anyway. Name's Renei. Come find me at the rally if you wanna learn more about the movement, Sis.”

You shrug and let her go. A ways down the road you catch sight of a tall, athletic woman with horns and a tail running in small shorts and a muscle shirt. Her ample chest bounces gently with each stride. She has a bit of an entourage following her. You can tell from her appearance that she is beastfolk, but can not sure exactly what type. You flag down one of the trailing runners. A panting young man that looks like he could use a break, anyway. He is not dressed for running. It looks as though he just through on whatever he had that was not a suit.
“What's this?” You asking, thinking he looks to be waiting for an excuse to stop.

He breaths heavily and stops, catching his breath. “Jersey's candidate for the Greek Games. Sonja's gonna put this town on a map that doesn't just list shipping routes.”

“What's in it for you if she gets into the games?” You were briefly a candidate for some of the magical events before the war started. Enlisting ended those aspirations. The games were prestigious, but you never quite fell for the hype. Even the 'trophies' you got from the war are only really important to you because of the people you got them for.

“My family owns the sporting goods store. We're making sure she has everything she needs. When she gets to the Games she'll be wearing our hand-sewn products. One-hundred percent local wool, too. We were also able to convince the council that a candidate from Jersey would improve commerce.” He explains.

“Okay, but why are you running?”

“Support?” He says unconvincingly.

“Why are you really running?” You prod.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” The man stares ahead at the crowd of runners that has already gotten away from him.
“Oh sod...” He waves his hand at you dismissively and returns to jogging.

Other than a few more shops there is not much more to see. Nothing that  immediately jumps out to you as suspicious or outstanding, at least. You have been walking the streets for hours and the sun is setting beneath the water. You can see it from any part of the town, as the whole place slopes down to the coast. You are not worried. Madame did not say sunset, but midnight. Sure enough, as you are walking and as the natural light goes from a warm yellow to an orange, then finally a pale blue, the streetlamps begin to come on in sequence.

There are as many people out at night as there were during the day. Maybe more. You can hear the sound of music carried by the wind. A live band. You follow it and find people filing into a basement pub from the street. A large orcish bouncer checks people as they enter. All of the guests in fine attire; the men done up in blue suits with the women in colorful dresses complimented by furs and feathers. It is so very open, which surprises you until you remember from your time in the corps that the people of Europe would sooner start a second great war than let anyone take their alcohol away. So very different from back home.

You approach, thinking that you may as well try and grab a drink. Waiting in line behind a giggling, doting couple you take gradual steps forward while the line moves. When it finally reaches you the orc, dressed in a suit and bowler cap, waves you aside dismissively.
“What?” So far as you could tell, everyone had been let in besides you.

He snorts. “Dress code.”

“Ah...” You start walking away. There is no point in causing a scene and Madam bragged about her spirits back at the Famille Belville. You were just curious. Just as you are about to round the corner the night air fills with a loud, shrill scream and the music stops. It came from inside the club. The bouncer turns and lumbers down the stairs in a hurry. You brush past surprised guests and shadow him, expecting him to be too distracted to notice you slip in.

You were right. As he opens the door and glances around to see what is going on you slip in behind him, slide along the back wall and quickly blend in with the other club-goers. Nobody else pays you any mind, not least because each and every person is trying to lift themselves up onto their toes to look at the dance floor. You carve your way through the gawkers to get there and see what is up.

As you break through onto the dance floor you see a woman on her knees. She is still screaming over a pile of nice clothes. You wonder what the fuss is about, then you realize that it is not just a pile of clothes. Mixed in you see, as thin as fabric, folded and crumpled skin. You push your way closer and furrow your brow, since you had never seen anything like it. Everything down to the hair on the poor man's head is intact, but other than that it looks as if he had been hollowed out. With no blood or anything it has to be magic. But what kind? With your tools back at the room you could investigate and find out.

You feel a forceful hand on your shoulder and turn to see the bouncer looming over you. “Out!” He squeals just inches from your face. You wipe specks of dangerous spit carefully from your skin and lips. You do not want that stuff getting in your mouth by mistake. You nod, raising your hands as a mock sign of submission.

“Sorry, sorry. I'll go.” He escorts you out just as the two orc police that you had seen earlier are descending the stairs.

“That happen often?” You ask the bouncer as he pushes you up the stairs.

“Don't know, don't care.”

“I could probably figure out what caused it? May help out the business. Let me introduce myself, I'm a mage. My name is-” Before you can finish introducing yourself he cuts you off.

“I just work here! Go introduce yourself to an orc that gives a damn, or wear something nicer next time.” He spits on the ground and shoves you onto the street.

“Fine...” You dust yourself off and walk back to the hotel. You either need to pick a different avenue or keep digging in town. But, you know that the town is probably going to need you in a nicer clothes if anyone is going to take you seriously. It is ironic that you have to dress down to be seen, but such is life.