---

Kobra cocked his head right a little bit and smirked "Seems the culprit left behind a piece of themself. Almost didn't see it through my shades, hard to see 'em in the shadow I found it in. But that's all I seem to know about the varmint right now." he held the clue in his paw, and lifted it up into his view "Kinda reddish orange in color, Couldn't tell ya a specific I'm not all that great with 'memberin all these fancy colors"

He looked back to you, although you can never tell his emotions through those sunglasses. "Should go talk to the other townsfolk 'round here to try and help me get more leads on 'em. You should go check out Kelvin down at the Saloon, they might know somethin' I don't. 'Most anyone and everyone passes through the saloon for a drink and a bite before they leave town here. If ya need me at all I'll be 'round the saloon checking things out."

The saloon doors creak as you enter and Kelvin greets you cheerfully at the entrance.

"Howdy! Ain't see ya 'round these parts, but if yer up fer food, drinks an' some games there's always folks here up fer a chat an' more."

Kelvin pats you on the back and leads you further into the rustic establishment, where you see many patrons playing cards or enjoying food and drinks. The saloon has a cozy atmosphere and almost everyone seems to be having a good time. You took this opportunity to ask Kelvin about the sheriff's request.

"I'm too busy roun' this saloon ta pay much attention!" he laughed. "But when I was closing that night and snuffin out the lanterns I coulda sworn I heard rustlin'. Turned around n' briefly saw the candlelight reflectin' off somethin' passin by. Bet's on one of those fancy auras, or it coulda been jewellery or eye accessory of sorts." The Spiral shrugs. "Too dark ta see anythin' much, m'fraid."

"Ya could maybe ask that guy there," Kelvin points to a patron sitting at one of the tables. "His name's Kelton an' he's a regular here. Comes pretty often. Might know more 'bout that than I do."

Despite having been in the Saloon for a little while before approaching him, Kelton paid you no mind until he absolutely had to. It was as if he either truly didn't notice you, or just didn't care for your presence. He only bothered to look up at you over his glasses when the Viperpillar by his feet let out a little hiss in warning the moment you got too close for its liking, though his dark and heavy gaze quickly returned to the bar top he was sitting at. He didn’t say anything in greeting, instead just letting you get on with what you were there for.

…


“Huh? Thievery?” he said, his paws pausing their movement as they idly set up a new Solitaire game, though only for a split second; the movement quickly returned, the sound of cards slapping on the table echoing his next words. As he spoke, he shook his head a bit, most of his body jerking slightly with the action, the bells on his wings jingling softly. “Nah, it sure as ‘ell ain’t me. I swear to ya, just like I been swearin' up and down to er'ryone else in this dang gum town, er’rythang I sell here was acquired through lawful means. Finders keepers – and I only sell what's intentionally abandoned!” he exclaimed, a small hiccup punctuating his passionate proclamation. "So, ya can't charge me with nothin'!"

… …

“Oh. You mean down at the vault. Well now,” he said, setting his cards down and swapping them for his bottle, taking a swig of whatever was in it. “That ain’t me either. Apologies, stranger” – another shake of his head – “I just keep to myself, see. I rarely leave this here Saloon; no need to, on accounta' all I need bein' right here. So, I don’t know a thing about that… In fact, I only heard that somethin' was even amiss earlier today…”

His tone drawled off, and just as you were about to accept that you would get nothing out of this man, he eyed you one more time; tipping his head down, he peered over the frames of his spectacles intensely. “But Bullock might have some news. Don’t tell ‘im I said it, but even for a Deputy, he can be reaaal nosey sometimes...”

And with that, his limited focus was back on his card game.

---

“My brother sent you here? Well there’s a surprise, in all honesty since I was appointed Deputy by Kobra we haven’t talked much…. But if what yer saying is true and yer helping Kobra investigate these robberies, could ya mosey on over to Angus the Importer? He reported some of his stock bein’ stolen and I just haven’t had the time to go look at the evidence yet. *shakes his head* Too many robberies and not enough time”

---

You find a giant traveling cart before you find Angus. It's longer than a Hydra, and as tall as it is wide. It's filled to the brim with a variety of baskets, barrels, crates, and other similar items. There's a few bags and boxes that have been tipped over, and their spilled contents cover the ground. In fact, more of the supplies seem to be out of the cart rather than in it. A Death Seeker is poking at some of the perishables, but it pays you no mind as you walk by it.

You can hear someone muttering, and as you step closer you start to hear what they're saying. "Where is it!" A panicked voice frets. "Oh, was that stolen too? Gods help me." The voice is coming from behind the cart, and as you round the corner you see a very stressed looking Snapper. You are left to assume that this is Angus. Half his body is wedged into the cart, and he's frantically searching for... something. With the thousands--if not hundreds of thousands--of items strewn about, you're not sure he's having much luck.

Angus doesn't seem to hear your approach, and his mumbling continues. "One thousand and sixteen Greystone Deer, that's fine... five hundred and thirty four Lawn Decorations, that's good too... hmm forty eight Spectre Loops? That doesn't seem ri--WAIT, no, I sold a fair few at my last stop.... AH! My Prismatic Tokens! Oh dear... how am I ever going to trade with Joxar now?"

He slumps in defeat, and it's at that moment you decide to interrupt. You make a small coughing noise, and that's enough to have Angus' attention. "EEP!" he shouts, going a solid foot off the ground in surprise. His head bumps into one particularly precariously placed crate, and on the way down he knocks into several others. After a lot of crashing and a muffled yell, Angus pops back up out of the disaster with a wide-eyed look on his face.

"Oh, hello! I didn't realize I had a visitor! Uh... how long have you been standing there...?" Angus inquires with a sheepish grin. He shakes his head before you can reply, however, and picks his way out of the rubble that used to be his stock. "Nevermind, what can I do for you?"

You explain why you're there and you can see Angus' smile grow strained.

"Ah... the thief.... Well, unfortunately for you, I don't know anything. I'm just as clueless as everyone else is!" He throws his blunted claws up in exasperation, before bringing them down to pull at the sides of his brimmer. "I noticed some of my stock was missing just the other night. Now, this was concerning, and I know I have quite a bit of stuff, but I keep track of every single item I have and the exact quantity I have of it! Of course, a couple things lost here and there is no big deal, being on the move as much as I am, but whole stacks of items? Impossible! The worst part is there's no evidence! I've got nothing to go off of; no scales, no claw-prints, no nothing--!"

Angus abruptly cuts himself off as he realizes his rant has gone on for too long. "W-what I mean is, you might have better luck asking someone else, yes?" he suggests hurriedly, clearly embarrassed. "I'd go talk to uh... let me see, uh... hmm... no not her uh... let's go with... Tiffany! Yes! She might know something. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have a mess to clean up and more recounting to do." With that, Angus turns on the heel and goes back to rummaging through his goods.

You leave having heard too much, and yet, somehow, you managed to learn nothing.

---

The graceful Pearlcatcher watched you in interest, the two of you chatting against the large front window of her shop. Her left paw was gently stroking the silky fur of her pet fox, the elegant animal eyeing you suspiciously as it lay upon its satin pillow, basking in the sun pouring in. “Oh – yer here about that situation, ain’tcha? Mm,” she nodded, her proud shoulders drooping when she realized you weren’t there about her many fashion items and statement pieces. She clicked her tongue softly in understanding, turning to strut across the room to her counter, her bustle sashaying behind her. She ducked down to grab something behind it, and came back up holding a small scrap of fabric; when you met her again, she gingerly offered it out to you in one paw, pointing to specific patches of it with her other as she spoke.

“Now, as ya can see here,” she began; the more she spoke, the more foreign her accent sounded. Almost as if she was trying to put it on thicker than it naturally was. “This flimsy thing seems real sunbleached, dry, and parched. Likely from lotsa wear out in that heat – so even with all my, dare I say professional, knowledge… I couldn’t tell ya what color it originally used ta be. It’s also very worn and thin, so I can’t tell ya what specific garment it may have belonged ta, either.” She could see your face fall, and her hand that was pointing at the fabric moved to instead hold up a single digit in pause, a small smile playing at her lips. “But, I do happen ta know somethin’ – given this thread count and weave style… I can fer sure say it’s from one of the Highnoon apparel sets!”

At your grin, she retracted her paw, and closed her other over the piece of fabric. She gave you a gentle nod; she wasn’t dumb, and knew your necessary interaction was now over. However, that didn’t stop her from at least attempting to catch your attention elsewhere. “Now that I’ve been so kind as ta give ya a wee bit of knowledge,” she said, her tone woven with gossip, “be sure ta come back and buy somethin’, yeah? And, darlin', if ya could, maybe go see the lovely florist down the road, won’tcha? She’s the one who keeps this place smellin’ nice,” she said, tipping her head over to a bushel of flowers in a pristine glass vase that sat upon her counter. You hadn’t noticed it before, for its bright petals all but blended in with all of the (you guessed) moth-bitten fabric around the room. “If she gets another customer, she might be willing ta trade with me again,” she winked, now willing to send you on your way.

You walk up to Fuchsia's Floristry and the first thing you see are a few plants placed outside the shop. There are aconites aplenty in some massive pots, and a couple hanging baskets of Ghost Painted Ferns. Once you walk inside, you're met with a wall of humidity. It seems the shop is more like a decorated greenhouse than anything resembling a store. There are flowers everywhere. Roses, tulips, violets, jasmine... so many that you couldn't possibly name them all.

You head deeper into the shop. Scattered around the center area there are huge tubs of water that contain bouquets held together with vine or twine. There are more hanging baskets; they seem to twirl down from every available wooden beam, all overflowing with life. The walls are even covered in climbing vines, reaching high and attempting to crawl across the ceiling. All the plants look impossibly well cared for. They're big, beautiful, and there's not a single yellow leaf or dead flower in sight.

At the very back of the shop, you find Fuchsia herself. She's working on arranging a bouquet, and she looks quite focused. Her brows are furrowed in concentration, and she's hunched over her working space. The counter is covered in small scraps of stems, petals, and carefully plucked leaves. It takes her a moment to notice you, but eventually her bespectacled gaze meets yours.

"Well howdy!" Fuchsia greets loudly, a toothy grin appearing on her face. She springs upward and slams her claws against the table. Her wings spread wide, and she nearly knocks into one of the hanging plants. You lean back at the volume and the sudden movement. "Welcome t' my lil' shop!" She sweeps her arrangement away with a single swipe from one of her muscled forearms. "What can I do for'ya?"

You explain why you're visiting, and her grin grows brighter before quickly dulling into something forced. "An investigation, huh?" she says, with none of her previous enthusiasm. Fuchsia props herself up on her elbows, her tail swishing steadily behind her. "Well, still nice'a Tiff t' send ya my way."

Fuchsia pushes herself up and turns to head into the back of the shop. "I heard'a the robber, but they ain't steal nothin' from me," she notes with a hint of pride, glancing at you over her shoulder. "And while I dunno how much help I'll be with yer lil' hunt, I did find somthin' outta place th' other day...."

She disappears for a moment into the shadowed corners of her shop. You hear her grumbling to herself from your place at the counter. "Nah... that ain't it--" A tankard comes flying out of the gloom, sailing over your head, and landing with a solid thunk against the ground. You take a couple steps back... just in case. "--not this either!" Thrown like a spear, a rake comes flying next. It clatters against the table and tumbles to the ground. You step to the side as the rake's handle nearly grazes you. "UGH!" You have to duck as about a dozen pens whiz right by you. You're having second thoughts about coming here.

"A-HA!" Finally, Fuchsia comes trotting out of the storage place, her skirt bouncing as she makes her way back to you. "I found this th' other night near m'shop, and lemme tell'ya it's miiighty suspicious!" She holds one hand out to you, and nestled in her palm is a large thorn. You look at it, then back up to Fuchsia with a blank expression on your face. She rolls her eyes at you. "Now I know what'cher thinkin', but this ain't jus' any ol' thorn!"

She plucks the thorn up carefully between her claws and holds it up to you. "I'm willin' t' bet this isn't from a cactus, and it sure ain't from one of my precious roses!" Fuchsia uses her other hand to point to it. "Y'see here? The markings ain't plant-like, it looks more like it came from an animal'a some kind, but I'm no expert. I'm more in'ta flowers than cacti--and yes, I know some cactus have flowers!"

Fuchsia hauls herself over the counter and takes your hands in hers. She places the thorn in your palm, and tucks your claws over it carefully. "You'd have better luck askin' Huckleberry 'bout it, so go see 'im!" She leaps back over the table. "Now, unless yer buyin', Imma 'ave t' ask ya t' leave! Ba-bye now!"

"That florist ain't wrong 'bout it bein' cactus thorn, 'cept it sure ain't none of mine. Couldn't of been, I was only comin' in for supplies when I done heard the commotion goin' on and went on over for a gander. Didn't see who done it, though. But y'know what I did see?"
Huckleberry's expression sours, and he idly cleans out muck from underneath one of his claws. "Somethin' slithery went ou' thataway. Saw the tracks myself — and I've got a good eye for 'em out in my crops. All the hubbub's done swept it away... Look, I understand what it seems, and I ain't the cause of this misfortune. Honest."

"Speakin' of fortune. Ya could ask Six. Ain't real popular roun' here, but Six's got the sight. Seen it myself. Anyone can help ya track down that dead end, it'd be `em."

It did not please you much to look for the fortune teller, but Huckleberry was right. His insight could very well be invaluable should he know something about the thief, and even if he did not, you figured you'd still get something out of it. A prediction, a crystal. Hells - even a free drink. But now that you stood in front of his door in the dimly lit back-alley, it felt as if a mysterious force was dragging you in, and you did not like mysterious forces.
Still, you stepped inside. It was as dark in as it was out, the room only lit by the dying light of a candle struggling to survive in a place so stuffed with smoke and shadows. You could hear the vague noise of something bubbling on your left, but decided not to look in fear of Six appearing from behind and drowning you in. He did not have the reputation of a killer, just someone generally unpleasant and eerie, but you still found it hard to trust anything in the shop, be it Six or your senses. Instead, you walked towards a wooden shelf where a myriad of rocks and crystals were glimmering under the light of the candle, adorned with colors and swirls you'd never seen before. They must have been invaluable.
After a few minutes of looking up and down the stacks of trinkets and plants scattered around the shop, you stepped back to the large table, your eyes drawn to the candle. And when you looked up, your heart almost leapt out of your chest as you finally met Six’s eyes. You hadn’t noticed him before, hadn’t even felt his gaze upon you, but he was well and truly present, and his shape drew out of the shadows.
‘Hey there,’ you say, tentatively. ‘Gave me a fright, you did.’
Six hums, but remains unimpressed. You decide to cut to the chase.
He gives you a strange look when you ask if he knows something about the thief, something between feigned interest and boredom. ‘And what says you’re not it?’ His left head splits into a ferocious smile, while the other remains stoic. ‘I did have an unexpected visitor, and the rascal slipped away with something of mine. I did not get a good look at him, but a strange smell followed him. Sand, and earth. And the very striking smell of bone grease.’ A silence follows that statement. You did not know bones could have a smell, especially not in the desert, when they usually stood under the scorching sun for days, but Six seems sure of that, and you're willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. You wonder what the thief could have stolen from him. It did not seem like anything was missing from the shelves in the shop.
Finally, Six feels forced to spit out the thought that must been nagging him. ‘Don’ know. Maybe try that rookie archaeologist who showed up in town recently.’

Leighton lowers the neckerchief from his mouth and sweeps some sand off himself as you approach to ask some questions.
"I don't see or hear much out here in the dirt besides the wind!" he laughs. His smooth accent says he's clearly not from around here. "But I think I saw candlelight, going out to cover the site again as it had blown off that night." he waves to a cloth-covered digsite. "I don't have one on around my tent, attracts bugs."

"What I'm digging for? An archaeologist never tells, you'll have to read the paper about it later! Don't try to go snooping, I sleep with one eye open." He pensively looks to the horizon. "Might pack up and leave soon anyway. Neltharian has been very helpful in getting the gear lugged out here and showing me some tips on how to dig in this blasted sand... but this town just isn't as rich as I hoped it would be, and not just because of the robberies!" He chuckles awkwardly. "Anyway since what I saw was at night you might wanna talk to him about it. Chances are he saw more than I, living closer to the ranch."

As you cross the open span of desert approaching the town once more, the hiss of a Desert Strangler alerts you as you near the Cemetery. Nearing, you can make out a simple grave site with traditional stone pylon markers dotting within a framework of run-down wood fence and boulders. A small shack stands lonely beside the fenced area. On its run-down porch sat impressive piles of bones, feathers, and leathers -- a stark comparison to the shanty.

Your attention is brought back to the Desert Strangler who travels along with you a short while before slithering ahead and towards a depression in the ground.

…

Neltharion looks up at you from within the half-dug grave with mild annoyance-- The Desert Strangler now comfortably resting around his dustied neck. Dirt clings to his well-worn clothing
"Can I help you? Don't often see unfamiliar folk such as yer'self poking their noses n' small cemeteries such as ours." he questions while eyeing you intensely from behind dark shades.

…

"So, yer here 'bout the thefts. Seems'like nobody was off limits if even a newcomer like Leighton got hit." he sighs before setting his shovel into the sandy ground beside him. He pulls his hat off his head-- dusting it off before reaching in and pulling out a yellow-orange feather, twirling it between his claws.

"Found this not too long after that scoundrel took my next few months' livelihood." He spit. "Diggin' graves don't put food in bellies during slow times-- not that i'm wishin death on anyone." His tone matter-of fact. "I was actually outta town hunting n' restockin' stores when they struck" He gestures, head nodding to the direction of the Shack. "It's a bit of a side hustle-- if you will. Not all too much different than my day job." He laughs, dryly.

Taking one last look at the feather in his claws before handing it off to his Desert Strangler to pass up to you-- he takes a breath-- hesitating as if to say something.

"Yknow-- I spend a lotta' my time watchin' the happenin's of the town from out here. I find it mighty strange that all this' happenin' under the watchful eye of Kobra. Gonn' tell me all these buildings robbed all in one night and he didn' see nothin'?"

He raises a brow behind his dark shades, cocking his head towards you. "Somethin' jus' ain't right with that picture." He shakes his head with a low growl.


"If you want to talk to someone who was most likely awake an' actually doin' their job-- our Doctor Cochran's a reliable dragon." He assures, putting his hat back on. "Count on him t'be awake durin' the witchin' hours carin' for the unlucky."

"Huh, so ol’ Nel sent you my way? Well it is true that I’ve had some items stolen. I was out on a house call that took me outside of the bounds of the ranch last night. When I came back I found that some hooplehead broke into my private medicine stores! And I know with the locks I put on that there cabinet it could've only been broken into using a rune bolt.

…Now that I think about it, I always see that guardian Condy slinking about durin’ the night, you should ask her to see what she knows. And if you find any of my missin’ items would you kindly bring ‘em back to me? I need them for uh.. reasons"


Condy gives you a disdainful look as you approach but does you the courtesy of taking her claws off the flawless cactus she's futzing with.

Her little patio, secluded from all other shacks in the town, is covered in species of flowering cacti, most with no other uses unlike the edible kinds grown in the fields. There are half-burned unlit candles everywhere.

"What?" She sniffs and gently hovers a claw over a delicate little bud. "I'm up all night checking her so I haven't got no patience for nothing. She'll bloom soon, ya'know. A Queen of the Night. Only does once a year. Special."

A wistful smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she looks at her cactus.

"Oh the investigation? I ain't seen nothin'. It could be any of those weirdos, or the newcomers. Heck, if I'd known it was that easy ta make away with all that cash I woulda done it myself and flew away ages ago! Better than rotting away here." She cackles cruelly.

"Gotta be some kind of wrong with a dragon to actually want to stay, I tell you what." She shakes her head and grumbles about haughty dressmakers under her breath.

"Anyway I reckon anyone doin' something like that would need help. If I were you I'd ask the toy soldier, Nirvana. Ain't those types famous for doing just about anything for pay?"

She yawns, showing off rows and rows of sharp teeth.

"If that's all I need a nap before my next shift." She shoos you away. "Run along now and don't bother me no more."

---

You find Nirvana in the outskirts of the town, facing off against another dragon.

Silhouetted against the fiery orange sun, the Fae stood with her wings spread and her claws ready to cast magic. Her opponent, a Tundra standing on the opposite end, also stood poised for battle.

"Needa countdown?" Nirvana asked and the Tundra nodded.

"Alright, partner. Three..."
"Two.."
"One!"

Both dragons fired off their ability stones, the magic whizzing by so fast it made you feel a hint of fear. Before you knew it, the Tundra was on the ground, his hat askew.


"'Nother day, 'nother dragon with sumthin' ta prove." Nirvana blew at the smoke from her magic and kicked up a cloud of sand over the unconscious Tundra, victorious in her duel.

The Fae peers at you from under the brim of her hat. "New 'round these here parts I see. Dunno who brought ya to me partner, and it ain't matter anyway but I'll do ya job for a coin. Unless ya wanna prove sumthin' like this guy here." Nirvana giggled.

"If ya askin' 'Twa'nt me. And I ain't tellin' no songs fer other people, 's my job as a Mirrorlight Merc. Nothin' matters until I get paid. I suggest ya to talk ta Montgomery, and tell 'er Nirvana sends her regards."

Nirvana walks past you and tips her hat. "Now if ya'll sc'use me, I got a saloon 'ta visit; got a card game I wanna play there with Kelton 'n have some swig of cactus juice."

---

Arriving at an older looking wooden building, you can almost assume that this was nearly as old as the ranch itself. A pathetic wooden sign hangs on by just a single chain from a post, reading ' TOWN HALL' -- The N being lost to time as evident by the shadow left in its place. Pushing through well-worn, sunbleached double doors, you are greeted by walls upon walls of books, scrolls, maps, and other tellings of the town's history. Though, most of it seems to be scattered haphazardly across the floor. That's when the smell of burning paper hits your nostrils and a blur of color crosses your view.

Moments later, it is clear that that blur is a Fae.

The tan fae looks visibly stressed.

Whether or not it was due to your arrival-- you do not know.

Montgomery flits and flutters from one messy book pile to another-- sending concerned glances your way in between frantic reorganizing of the tumbled and tossed tomes. His outfit littered with soot stains and small burns.

"Oh dear-- S-Sincerest apologies for the mess!" He stammers out. "Between puttin' small b-book-fires out and tryin' to take inventory of what's missin'-- i've hardly had a chance to tidy…!"

And, just when you thought the Fae couldn't get any more visibly stressed-- Montgomery shrinks at the mention of

"N-Nirvana?" he gulps-- noticeably paling. The multitudes of questions running through his mind are as clear as the words on one of the pages of his books. The fact that a few are still on fire does not go unnoticed to you.

"N-nothing but trouble from that one. Tends t'keep to herself, yknow?" He pipes worriedly, massive eyes flicking between you, and the doors behind you.

" 'Heard she goes m-missin' for random periods o' time, only t'come back scuffed up and dirtied. I think she's one'a them… y'know… Mercen--"

Wind blows the creaky door behind you-- eliciting a frightened yelp out of the small desk attendant stopping him in his tracks.

"A-Anyw-ways….." He trails, quickly clearing his throat awkwardly. "I'm Sorry-- my name's Montgomery-- Friends call me Monty 'round these parts! W-Was there something I could get for you?"

. . .

"Y'see-- Someone stole some important documents from my Archives last night-- Maps of the town, building blueprints" He trails, stumbling upon a still smoldering book among the wreck. It takes a heartbeat before the Fae registers the flaming object in his paw. With another yelp, he tosses the book down quickly-- stamping it out. Letting out a gutted sigh, he eventually picks up a charred portion of the pages, holding it up to you. "Perhaps take this w-with you? Maybe y-you'll be able to figure out somethin' I haven't with the Sheriff's help..."

---

---

Sunbeam ruin mystery.

Dragons investigated in order:

-Scale, red-orange in colour.
-Rustling. Light reflecting off jewlery/aura/eyepiece
Apparently left no scales/pawprints
Fabric left behind - highnoon apparel, sunbleached.
Thorn left behind- possibly from an animal
Something slithery
Stranger spells of sand/earth and bone grease
Saw candlelight during the night
Yellow orange feather
Vault broken into by arcane magic
Blueprints stolen of the town


Clue 1: Red/Orange dragons - Kobrakid and [url=Neltharian. Possibly Huckleberry & Mongomery.

Clue 2: Rustling & light reflecting - Mongomery (Eyepiece, paperwork) | [url=Neltharian (Eyepiece, summer/autumn swelter) |