2020-08-28 - To Snuff a Light

It's a lovely day for a walk in Firely Forest. Also a good day for climbing some trees; no rain, no wind, no fog. Of course this means the trails are pretty busy, but the spots on Niall's map aren't in places the trails go by. They'll be doing a little off-roading, so to speak.

August has a proper framed hiking pack with him, loaded with climbing gear, and he's in what might be called a climbing outfit: denim jeans, heavy boots, long-sleeved shirt (dark gray Henley). All things that can handle a little tree bark, moss, lichen, and trip through the forest. The ferns are thick on the ground, making a sort of short canopy over the bed of needles and leaves from the previous winter. Squirrels scold them from treetops for going off-trail; jays flutter in their wake, hopeful for dropped food.

"First one's just up here a bit," August says over his shoulder. He pauses to survey a shelf mushroom growing on the up-ended root base of a long-dead fir, continues on his way.

Cecil trudges along, not really built for the forest, but it isn't the first time a case has brought him into the woods. He has a camera on a strap around his neck and a specimin kit slung over one shoulder. He's in a t-shirt and jeans, with sturdy hiking boots. With all the lugging, he's a big winded, not much for conversation, but when August says it's just up ahead, he perks up. "Oh, good."

Alexander is wearing his usual clothes, along with an oversized army surplus jacket with large pockets. In these pockets are little evidence bags, q-tips, and basically just a tiny, makeshift crime kit. He's not exactly an experienced forest guy, but he seems comfortable in the woods. As comfortable as anyone can be when it's entirely possible something is going to jump out and eat them at any point. "Did Niall have anything further to say about the marks? When they started appearing, how fast they proliferated, et cetera?" For some reason, he's walking well away from Cecil, and barely looks at the poor scientist. Or, perhaps, lucky scientist.

"Hard to say when they first cropped up, since some of the ones they found were already a couple months old. At least, judging by the pictures--the moss and lichen growing on and around them. Since we can't be sure on that..." August trails off with a shrug, looks askance at Cecil. "Happy to help out with identifying a time on the older ones, if you need it."

He stops now and then to peer through the trees for any other signs of someone being in the area recently--anything dropped, broken branches on shrubs, trampled ferns.

But Alexander has promises to keep. Even if they're only made to himself. So his eyes aren't on the beauty of the woods around them as much as they are twitching nervously from tree to tree, like he really does expect something to leap out at them at any moment. When he notices the scrapings, he comes to a halt. "August. Mr. Harvey." He gestures towards the tree and starts moving towards it, carefully. "These don't look too old." He pulls out a small notebook so he can take down the symbols.

Cecil has noticed Alexander's demeanor, and he seems concerned, but there's a mystery afoot, so he gives the man his space. He does seem rather profoundly confused, though. Was it something he said? With a small smile for August, he says, "I would appreciate any help you could give me, mate, thanks." Then he follows after Alexander. "Good find, Mr. Clayton," he says, and he raises his camera to get some photos.

August's head tilts as he tracks something along the ground, away from the game trail they're currently on. He kneels down, inspecting a nurse log, and doesn't leave off until Alexander speaks. He half-rises, eyes gradually finding the marks. "Ah ha." He eyes the wood. "Not that old--maybe a couple weeks." He gestures on the ground in front of him. "Looks like we got tracks, here from whomever did it. Might want to get photos of that too." Keeping wide of the drag marks and broken log, he attempts to trace that 'path' as far as it will go, without muddling it.

Alexander sketches the symbols, then looks around at August's mention of tracks. His eyes light up, and he moves over in that direction with careful steps. His face is almost expressionless with concentration as he looks at what August found. "Harvey. Look. Body drag mark," he points. "Can probably get stride length from this. And, what is this..." he reaches into his pocket to grab some extra long tweezers. He waits for Cecil to get any pictures and measurements he wants to take before he reaches out to tease up the piece of metal and whatever it's attached to.

So far she's been quiet if not just the fact that she looks extremely exhausted and visibly injured. Her arm is in a sling and her expression is grim and determined. Alexander had attempted to keep her in the house, but she won't be denied something in which she can possibly be of use.

Dr. Isabella Reede is present, and dressed for a hike - boots, jeans, a tanktop and jacket. She has a smaller pack than usual, though her hatchet hangs on one of the straps.

Cecil moves in and starts taking pictures. He's careful not to upset the track, and he clicks with abandon, such is the glory of not having to worry about running out of film, only space, and he's got plenty. Then he pauses, and he glances at his camera, where a few tiny flies have landed. "These are scuttle flies," he says. He glances at the other. "They feed on late-stage decay." He looks around, and he points out a few more buzzing in the air. "There's been a body around here, for some time I'd say."

August halts in his tracks the second that smell hits him. "Yeah...probably up here," he says. Despite the dread coiled in his stomach, he keeps going, parallel to the drag marks. And low and behold, in a lovely little grove lies the body. He coughs and looks away. "Over here," he says, decidedly not looking at it. "There's a...head in its place. Like Hank's."

He'll just, go back and check out the carved up tree. Right. Cecil's a CSI, Alexander has no problem with murder. August is a tree person, he'll deal with this tree.

Alexander pulls up what appears to be a belt buckle, but only half of a belt attached to it. "...interesting." He leans in and sniffs it when Cecil mentions that part about decay. "There's blood on this. And...hmm. Strain marks on it suggest it might have been used as a binding. But cut, here." He bags it and tags it, tucking it away into another jacket pocket before following August to...oh hey. "Look at that." A wide grin spreads across his face, like a kid who's just been granted a second Christmas. "How fascinating. Any bets that the goat - or is that a sheep? - is associated with another deity?" He moves forward, mindful of the integrity of the scene. "This has been here for a while. Are you seeing this, Harvey, Isabella...oh, August's gone." Sad face, before he goes back to examining the body with glee.

She sorts through the images that she had taken pictures she had taken on the first set of cuneiform, translating it quickly. "They're not 'proper', by the way," Isabella says, looking up at the rest of the group as one hand thumbs her smartphone. "I mean, they're proper Babylonian cuneiform but anyone who actually used them back then wouldn't arrange the symbols in this way - it's like the archaeological equivalent of correcting grammatical errors on a third grade English quiz. Whoever's doing this is doing a lot of Google research but is probably not an expert."

She looks back down at her screen, frowning. "As far as I can tell, it says the first set translates to: It is better to snuff a light than to let a soul burn and suffer."

When asked to take a look at something, there's a furrowing of her brow; she attempts to keep the contents of her stomach where they are as she shifts to crouch and peer at what Alexander is looking at in terms of other symbols, and takes a picture once she finds it so she can take a look and translate. "Hm," she mutters.

Cecil moves in on the scene with an eagerness that isn't exactly gleeful, but he is certaintly at home here amidst the stench of death and bodies on the cusp of liquefying in the summer heat. The camera clicks away while Alexander bags and tags. "There was a struggle," he says. "Defensive wounds here and here." He points them out without touching, then photographs them. "Look, around the neck. He hesitated, a lot, and the blade wasn't sharp enough. It's a hack job." Click click click. "Or she, but it's almost always a he."

August would like to touch the tree for some reassurance; that's something he does a lot without realizing it. He's sure realizing it now, because this tree is evidence, so he can't lay a finger on it. So he wills himself to stop seeing a headless body (under a turned over, burned out car), and focuses on the marks on the tree. "About, three weeks ago, give or take." He starts scanning around for other signs of anything they've missed until now, more to keep his mind off the moldering corpse than anything else.

"Yeah," Alexander agrees with Cecil, with a bob of his head. "This victim was killed onsite, not placed afterwards. And the..." he glances over at Isabella. "How odd. It might be a good idea to check both victims for any pre-existing illnesses, if that hasn't been looked at already. Maybe it's some sort of twisted idea of a mercy killing?" He gives Cecil space to examine the body, while he checks out the area of the grove. Then stops. "...how about a chainsaw, Harvey? Would that fit?" He delicately reaches out with the tweezers to push some branches aside and show everyone a broken chainsaw that looks like it's recently been a prop in a horror movie. Which, well. It sort of has. "Got a gas can lid here, too, in the grass."

She'll let the criminal experts deal with the criminal aspects of the case, and listens quietly to what August says about the trees. Isabella turns her face away with a faint grimace now that she's gotten closer to the body, and looks down at her translations of the latest set of symbols. Up around the trail when they come across it, she frowns when she bends over to take a look at the text written in blood.

"A chainsaw looks about right," Cecil says. "And that's a sheep, by the way." Since it wasn't clear if it was a sheep or goat. "We don't have to get a pig after all, Mr. Clayton, I can tell you right now our other victim's decapitation marks don't match the pattern. Not unless they cauterized away the wounds, and they certainly didn't hesitate. Whoever did this, he was unsure, but when he got to Henry, he had his resolve." He steps back, and he makes his way toward the stone. Click click click goes the camera. He has the decency not to stand in Isabella's light.

Spotting the blood, August half-turns so he can look at it but not the body. "Chain saw," he says, voice low. He can't help but wonder how the rangers who spotted the marks missed the body and the rest, but maybe they've just been lucky. (Or maybe they're involved? Well, Niall can have a look into that.)

"This this means we're gonna find bodies at the others?" It's a question to distract himself from the body they have found, more than anything else. He doesn't want to find other corpses, yet should probably prepare himself.

"Excellent," Alexander murmurs. "Standard serial killer progression, then." A pause. "Which means that he's likely to follow a standard escalation pattern, as well. If there were about three weeks between this murder and the park ranger, then the next body will drop more quickly." He frowns, muttering to himself even as focus changes to the trail and the stone and the blood. "It does mean that if we can find the earliest body, we're more likely to find a victim with a personal connection with the killer." There's a little shrug to August. "Possibly. If they're older, maybe not. This one looks more uncertain. He might have been...working his way up to it."

He turns towards Isabella. "What does it say?"

She consults with both her memories, diary of her other notes, and the smartphone in her hand. "I'm relatively confident that it says: An offering to Dumuzid, whose domain is fertile land. At least he's done his research on Mesopotamian mythology." Isabella glances to the rest. "Dumuzid is the primary consort of the goddess most commonly known as Ishtar - again, links to Kur. There's a specific epic that describes Innana, or Ishtar's descent into the Underworld."

"What qualities is he looking for in an offering?" Cecil asks Alexander. "This man was dressed for hiking, and Henry worked out here. It seems so far like he's choosing his victims based on availability. We should get an entire team in to work this scene. It's going to need combed over thoroughly. This victim was killed here but Henry was taken away alive." He frowns faintly, then asks Isabella, "Is there any connection between Dumuzid and Abzu?"

Something about 'descent into the underworld' makes August give Isabella a long, unreadable look. Eventually, he asks, "Any relation to Persephone's descent? Convergent stories, maybe?"

Alexander breathes out, and shakes his head. "Don't expect too much coherence. Serial killers construct their own mythologies - they're about something personal. A personal way of seeing the world. This guy, he's probably gone to Babylonian myth because it's /old/. He's reaching as far back in human history as he can as a...justification for his crimes, or as a way to leverage some sort of personal power. Knowing more about it is useful, but I don't think we're gonna find that he's directly re-enacting any particular myth or ritual. These are set dressing for his design." He licks his lips with excitement, then drifts over towards the body. "I should read it. See if we can get a glimpse of his face or who he is.." So he tries. He doesn't have to touch the corpse, so he doesn't, this time, just lets his face go creepy and blank and reaches out.

"Abzu references aquifiers," Isabella tells Cecil. "Usually from underground. I suppose if there's a connection between the term and the Mesopotamian shepherd-god, it might be to be able to water his thirsty flock or herd." She frowns as she examines the symbols further. "Your killer's most definitely mixing and matching their ancient Mesopotamia - like I said, you're mostly dealing with someone enamored of the mythology and has done some extensive Googling, but there is no extant evidence of sacrifices of this type being given to the gods I mentioned."

To August's query, she nods. "Similar. The most marked difference was that Ishtar went on her own accord while Persephone was kidnapped by Hades. We talked about Ereshkigal before, yes? The goddess-ruler of Kur. Ishtar, or Innana if you prefer, is her sister." She looks up at the rest. "If there are other symbols to be found, I can do my best to translate."

With Alexander deciding to read, her lips press in a thin line but she doesn't protest.

Cecil eyes Alexander's enthusiasm, but he nods along to what he says. The man clearly knows more about the psychology than Cecil does. Cecil knows about the flies and beetles eating the victim's remains. That's his jam. The why of it? He sighs, then says, "I want to get a look at the other marks before we call this in. Once the swarm comes, we'll be lucky to not get escorted off the scene." Then Alexander says he's going to read the corpse, and Cecil gets a funny look, like he doesn't approve, but this is also incredibly exciting.

August mmmms under his breath, nods at Isabella. "We should get to the other trees, then." He sees Alexander take that sort of stance, though, which suggests he's doing the unwise. Having had his own bad experiences with reading things lately, he tenses, ready to act if Alexander...has a problem.

Alexander shudders, closing his eyes as he makes a connection with the resonances still flowing over the dead flesh. His fists clench, but he doesn't fall to the ground, start crying (or screaming) or anything else. Instead, he takes several deep breaths. "Victim of convenience," he says, his voice hoarse with strain. "Homeless. Addict. He was an empath, like us." A pause. "...Treadway. Gary Treadway. He saw the killer. Guy with glasses. I, I can probably project it to you, if someone can draw. I-I-" his expression changes, and he sways, "...hallucinations. One hell of a trip. Irrelevant. It was not a good death. Also not relevant." He staggers back, and cuts the connection. "Um. Useful."

My people are arriving so I will switch to my phone. Do not wait for me add I will be distracted and slow.

As Alexander reveals what he's managed to read, Isabella's expression tightens. She reaches out with her good hand to squeeze his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

August relaxes when Alexander doesn't have any kind of incident. It's on his mind to speculate, because of course his first thought is, 'lure him in with drugs, get him high on something like acid or pcp, boom willing or at least manageable sacrifice'. But, that's Cecil's job. Instead, he risks on last glance at the corpse.

And blinks.

"The corpse," he says, looking away again. "It's doesn't have any of the symbols on it." Well, not that he can tell, and it is pretty decayed. "You said he could Glimmer?"

Alexander turns when Isabella reaches out to touch him, and he pulls her into his arms, mindful of HER injuries, now that his have faded to just green and yellow shadows of themselves. "I'm okay. Promise." He smiles at her. "It was useful. Not the worst death I've had, either." And that's just the truth. He kisses her forehead, then pulls away when August speaks. "That could be because it's earlier. It takes...uh, practice. To be comfortable carving on a human being. The murderer at this point was still developing his comfort. Writing blood on a rock probably felt more natural." Nonetheless, he makes his way to the corpse, and tentatively checks it over without touching it, to see if he can see any abortive marks.

"Henry Glimmered," Cecil mentions to Alexander. He continues to photograph, and he collects a few samples of hair, fibers, and whatnot before they move on.

August nods at Cecil. "So...they both did." He grimaces at the implication. Just what they need--a serial killer stalking people who Glimmer. (Not getting married in Gray Harbor was the best idea they'd ever had.)

He looks at the spruce next to him, sets a finger on one scale of bark and reaches, looking back. Not too far; to a tree like this, three weeks is an eyeblink, and he knows what it's like to get a few thousand years of memory off a mystical plant. No need for that kind of chaos here.

He pulls his hand back slowly after a few seconds, sighs. "He carved this after," he says to Cecil. "There's...some blood, from the victim, kind of hard to see but it's on there." He shifts, turns to continue on the trail. "Let's get Isabella the rest of those symbols, yeah? We've got a few more to see."

It's a fair bit of walking, but August brought snacks and water in his pack. He also brought his climbing gear, so the higher-placed marks prove no problem to get a look at. (And they get to watch him climb one-armed, since he still can't use his left shoulder.) A couple more hours of this and they've hit the last of them and then turn back, with August updating the map to mark each symbol (rewriting them until he gets an approving nod from Isabella--or she takes the pen and writes it herself) and the route they took.