"I hated the guy, I'm glad he's dead if he's dead, I don't trust you sir." This was the eighth person I'd spoken with that day that didn't A. Like Corine at all and B. didn't believe he was actually dead. You would think people would be more afraid of just disclosing this to someone, but apparently the story had gotten out I'd killed him and so I was liked/feared by just about everyone I talked to. I almost wished I had killed the guy if only so I could bask in the adulation for doing the act. But I had not and members of his crew wanted to kill me for something I hadn't actually done.
It probably wasn't doing me any favors to ask questions about his murder around town (I was initially worried about the police, but apparently they were all super corrupt in town which at least explained how the men in suits caught on to me so fast). I should always taper my dumb behaviors, but I always think that like a second before its too late. Like in this case I was just leaving a bakery someone had told me I could find a lead at when I was struck behind the head (why always the head? I swear if I didn't have necromancy I'd be worried about brain damage), the blow was a blinding hot wound that didn't knock me out, but made fighting really hard. So I just submitted. I was looking for more info and figured this was the best way (its a mob battle you have to talk to the mob and you can't just ask where the mob is, well you can but that wouldn't get you the mob, you have to like contact enough people they just show up and grab you, which was totally my plan after they grabbed me...)
Anyway all of this to say I wound up in another basement, handcuffed to another chair, and facing off against more people "Just asking questions" I swear every other gods damned week this is my routine!
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