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Description
Victim

Vernon Stolwart sucked at a cigarette viciously and expelled the smoke in a long, drawn out stream as he investigated the scene of a strange and unusual death.
This was an odd situation; for one thing, Vernon Stolwart was human. For a second thing, the bullet appeared to have travelled the wrong way. The victim was not so odd; he was male, early adult and had a huge hole in the side of his head. He was also green and covered in scales. This was a mostly sauren town so most of his cases involved them. But most of those in his position were of the same race too. He was a marshal. A freelance lawyer, detective and judge. Most sauren settlements didn't have police forces, they relied on the travelling marshals to dispense justice when and where it couldn't be handled on a local neighbourhood level.
There was a matching hole in the wall next to the body. Normally you would expect to see this associated with both an entry and exit wound on the victim; the bullet having passed through flesh, bone and sinew with ease and enough momentum left to take a chunk out of any near-by masonry. But it looked like this one had come out the wall and lodged itself in that poor bastards left hemisphere.
The wall was part of a small warehouse; a simple structure made of concrete and corrugated steel roofing.  It was locked up tight though. He had sent the site manager off to try and dig out the key. Apparently the building had been used by a small export company but it had gone bust a few months ago. This wasn't unusual, businesses had been closing down all over the city recently. Imports from the dome cities of the west were sharply undercutting locally produced goods. There was a lot of resentment about this and more than a few scuffles had broken out in the streets outside the offices of Bell Corp, the main distributes of goods from the west.
Vernon took another long draw on his cigarette as he thought about the contents of the victims pockets. Lock-picks, an electronic code-breaker, rubber gloves. He was clearly up to no good. A low-grade burglar. A search of the area showed no sign of a possible getaway vehicle. So he must have been a local lad. Obviously not after anything big, so why would anyone want to kill him?
"All right, you can take him away now. " he said as another sauren in white overalls approached. He dropped the stub of his spent cigarette to the sandy floor and ground it in with the toe of his big boot as he turned around. He closed his eyes and rubbed his chin in thought, hearing the zipping up of the body bag behind him. This was not going to be a usual case. He could feel it in his bones.
The manager had come back a little while later and told the marshal that he couldn't find the key. He said he would try and track town the last owner and get back to him. Vernon just wanted to crowbar the door open but damaging property was not something the site manager would allow unless it was absolutely necessary. They exchanged contact information and Went back to look at the sight of the body one more time. A delay probably won't harm things that much. Might be easier to identify the victim if someone notices him missing for some time anyway.
He started wandering off back down the warehouses. The morning was starting to get into its flow now and the heat began to build up. He could feel it on his pitted face  whenever the shadows of buildings broke up.
"Well now" he thought to himself. "lets pick up this morning where I left off. Then to find the name of the lizard. Can't get my mind straight until I've had a strong mug of joe."
He strolled off towards Cam's Café and Engine Shop, where they filled both their mechanical and biological customers with black, tar-like substances. He'd questioned the combination of such services but couldn't argue with the fry-up they did there. Vernon gazed out of the window at the passing street-life and idly mopped up the grease on his plate with a soggy chip while his mind wandered. How long had he been here now? 8, almost 9 years. Wow, time has a way of passing you by when you don't notice it. He had worked the out-laying towns and settlements after he finished his apprenticeship and even did a tour of the eastern agricultural region for a couple of years. Then he heard a tale about the bandits that had raided his village when he was a child. They had taken or destroyed everything. Vernon lost his parents in the raid and was rescued when a group of travellers saw the smoke and went to investigate. He had been back to the site of the raid just once. There was a mine there now. He was surprised at how indifferent he felt. That was until a few years later.
The tale he heard was that the raiders had not been random, but had been paid off by some shady business or organisation. Vernon then asked around, looked things up and found out through ways and means that the last location of the company was in the city of Carthage- the largest sauren city in the planes, maybe even the world. He had headed there, set up office and done his own investigations in the sparse spare time he found. That was, yes almost 9 years ago now. The trail had gone cold and so had his passion for finding those responsible for his parents deaths. You could only take so many dead leads.
"Vern! I thought you'd be here." He was broken out of his introspection when a 30 something brunette settled on a stool next to him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a brown paper package and put it on the table , pushing his plate out of the way.
"This came for you earlier. You were out so I said I'd take it to you." She brushed some of her long hair aside that had been dislodged when the package was retrieved.
"Thanks Diana, this might come in handy. "
Diana ordered more coffee while Vernon unwrapped the package, and pulled out a large, matte grey revolver. He started to examine it, unhooking the shell barrel. It spun silently and smoothly. He clicked it back into place and sighted down it at an offending chip in the window.
"So then, what kind of exciting case are you working on now then?"
Vernon chuckled as he looked into the remains of the box and pulled out a brace of 6 shells. Marty was always good with details. He began loading them into the revolver chambers.
"You are relentless aren't you?"
"Well a writer has to find her material from somewhere and you seem to give good mileage in that regard." Diana sipped her coffee, looking over the top of the mug at Vernon as he finished loading the shells and stowed the gun in a modest leather holster at his hip.
"You are practically my official biographer. What makes you think I have a case any more interesting than that dispute over that yard last week?" Vernon asked. He took a big gulp, almost finishing half the mug in one go.
"Its the look in your face and the way you are avoiding any eye contact. You're thinking about something, I know it." She eyes him suspiciously.
"Journalists intuition eh?" Vernon joked.
"You know I left all that behind me!" Diana said defensively, hesitating as she reached for a notepad  in her jacket pocket.
"I know, I know." He put his hands out to placate the oh so volcanic Diana, " But you still have the guile and tenacity of the reporter you were when we first met. "
"I direct it to a more noble cause now" She said, haughtily.
"Yeah, telling the world all about me and my no-doubt embellished adventures in the seedy underworld of crime and corruption."

Description
Victim

Vernon Stolwart sucked at a cigarette viciously and expelled the smoke in a long, drawn out stream as he investigated the scene of a strange and unusual death.
This was an odd situation; for one thing, Vernon Stolwart was human. For a second thing, the bullet appeared to have travelled the wrong way. The victim was not so odd; he was male, early adult and had a huge hole in the side of his head. He was also green and covered in scales. This was a mostly sauren town so most of his cases involved them. But most of those in his position were of the same race too. He was a marshal. A freelance lawyer, detective and judge. Most sauren settlements didn't have police forces, they relied on the travelling marshals to dispense justice when and where it couldn't be handled on a local neighbourhood level.
There was a matching hole in the wall next to the body. Normally you would expect to see this associated with both an entry and exit wound on the victim; the bullet having passed through flesh, bone and sinew with ease and enough momentum left to take a chunk out of any near-by masonry. But it looked like this one had come out the wall and lodged itself in that poor bastards left hemisphere.
The wall was part of a small warehouse; a simple structure made of concrete and corrugated steel roofing.  It was locked up tight though. He had sent the site manager off to try and dig out the key. Apparently the building had been used by a small export company but it had gone bust a few months ago. This wasn't unusual, businesses had been closing down all over the city recently. Imports from the dome cities of the west were sharply undercutting locally produced goods. There was a lot of resentment about this and more than a few scuffles had broken out in the streets outside the offices of Bell Corp, the main distributes of goods from the west.
Vernon took another long draw on his cigarette as he thought about the contents of the victims pockets. Lock-picks, an electronic code-breaker, rubber gloves. He was clearly up to no good. A low-grade burglar. A search of the area showed no sign of a possible getaway vehicle. So he must have been a local lad. Obviously not after anything big, so why would anyone want to kill him?
"All right, you can take him away now. " he said as another sauren in white overalls approached. He dropped the stub of his spent cigarette to the sandy floor and ground it in with the toe of his big boot as he turned around. He closed his eyes and rubbed his chin in thought, hearing the zipping up of the body bag behind him. This was not going to be a usual case. He could feel it in his bones.
The manager had come back a little while later and told the marshal that he couldn't find the key. He said he would try and track town the last owner and get back to him. Vernon just wanted to crowbar the door open but damaging property was not something the site manager would allow unless it was absolutely necessary. They exchanged contact information and Went back to look at the sight of the body one more time. A delay probably won't harm things that much. Might be easier to identify the victim if someone notices him missing for some time anyway.
He started wandering off back down the warehouses. The morning was starting to get into its flow now and the heat began to build up. He could feel it on his pitted face  whenever the shadows of buildings broke up.
"Well now" he thought to himself. "lets pick up this morning where I left off. Then to find the name of the lizard. Can't get my mind straight until I've had a strong mug of joe."
He strolled off towards Cam's Café and Engine Shop, where they filled both their mechanical and biological customers with black, tar-like substances. He'd questioned the combination of such services but couldn't argue with the fry-up they did there. Vernon gazed out of the window at the passing street-life and idly mopped up the grease on his plate with a soggy chip while his mind wandered. How long had he been here now? 8, almost 9 years. Wow, time has a way of passing you by when you don't notice it. He had worked the out-laying towns and settlements after he finished his apprenticeship and even did a tour of the eastern agricultural region for a couple of years. Then he heard a tale about the bandits that had raided his village when he was a child. They had taken or destroyed everything. Vernon lost his parents in the raid and was rescued when a group of travellers saw the smoke and went to investigate. He had been back to the site of the raid just once. There was a mine there now. He was surprised at how indifferent he felt. That was until a few years later.
The tale he heard was that the raiders had not been random, but had been paid off by some shady business or organisation. Vernon then asked around, looked things up and found out through ways and means that the last location of the company was in the city of Carthage- the largest sauren city in the planes, maybe even the world. He had headed there, set up office and done his own investigations in the sparse spare time he found. That was, yes almost 9 years ago now. The trail had gone cold and so had his passion for finding those responsible for his parents deaths. You could only take so many dead leads.
"Vern! I thought you'd be here." He was broken out of his introspection when a 30 something brunette settled on a stool next to him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a brown paper package and put it on the table , pushing his plate out of the way.
"This came for you earlier. You were out so I said I'd take it to you." She brushed some of her long hair aside that had been dislodged when the package was retrieved.
"Thanks Diana, this might come in handy. "
Diana ordered more coffee while Vernon unwrapped the package, and pulled out a large, matte grey revolver. He started to examine it, unhooking the shell barrel. It spun silently and smoothly. He clicked it back into place and sighted down it at an offending chip in the window.
"So then, what kind of exciting case are you working on now then?"
Vernon chuckled as he looked into the remains of the box and pulled out a brace of 6 shells. Marty was always good with details. He began loading them into the revolver chambers.
"You are relentless aren't you?"
"Well a writer has to find her material from somewhere and you seem to give good mileage in that regard." Diana sipped her coffee, looking over the top of the mug at Vernon as he finished loading the shells and stowed the gun in a modest leather holster at his hip.
"You are practically my official biographer. What makes you think I have a case any more interesting than that dispute over that yard last week?" Vernon asked. He took a big gulp, almost finishing half the mug in one go.
"Its the look in your face and the way you are avoiding any eye contact. You're thinking about something, I know it." She eyes him suspiciously.
"Journalists intuition eh?" Vernon joked.
"You know I left all that behind me!" Diana said defensively, hesitating as she reached for a notepad  in her jacket pocket.
"I know, I know." He put his hands out to placate the oh so volcanic Diana, " But you still have the guile and tenacity of the reporter you were when we first met. "
"I direct it to a more noble cause now" She said, haughtily.
"Yeah, telling the world all about me and my no-doubt embellished adventures in the seedy underworld of crime and corruption."