When Theo brought up the first victim, the male grave digger, Aleyn had an idea and walked over to the rest of the group to speak. "About what Theo just said, and tell me if this seems out of place, but since the first victim was a grave digger and not like the rest of the victims and the killer seems to favor the graveyard. What if the grave digger dung somewhere he should not have and woke something up?"

Rudy, still looking tired shook his head. "It'd be far more productive assisting Fraulen Wickler with the police than inventing ghost stories. The evidence so far, has ruled out dogs. We're looking now at a very disturbed individual - I'm sure if our culprit was some form of ghoul the evidenc will lead us there. Until then we, let's stick to the evidence in front of us without indulging the Nachtewache and their penny-dreadful children's fairytales." With a long sigh Rudy rubbed his temples. "I'll follow up with the cemetery's administrators this afternoon. Any are welcome to join me, but I need rest."

With that Rudy stalked, wearily, off.

Aleyn simply chuckled at what Rudy said to him. "I am just speculating, not inventing anything." Clearly, Rudy did not have a brush with the supernatural, unlike him, Aleyn thought. "Either way, I think there has to be a reason why the grave digger was killed and why whatever the culprit is seems to prefer the graveyard."

Aleyn then got out his flask, took a medium sip, and returned it to its place on his person. "I shall be coming with you to the graveyard and see what clues we can find. Though I suggest taking a nap since we are in the middle of an investigation after all." Aleyn hoped that Ruby will not take long and if it does. He might just go on without him to the graveyard.

Theo Rautenbach

Theo hastily wiped away the smudge of jam still clinging to his cheek as he turned to Sonja.

"I can accompany you." He gestured at his clothes though and made an attempt at looking sheepish. " Let me make myself look presentable however; I'd rather think the police would look down on a demobbed soldier such as me."

The former militiaman went to make his way to his modest quarters where his borrowed suit sat hanging in the small closet. It took no more then ten minutes for him to change over and swap his weapon's to his new wardrobe. A dark brimmed hat squashed low on his head; covering up the bulk of his shrapnel scars.

My contact in the police is "Leonhard Faerber," Temple replied, "I will go to the police station, Misters Rudeanu and Deyne, please lead the discussion with the grave diggers if you will."

He tipped his hat to Sonja, "Ma'am, if you would care to accompany me? Mister Rautenbach, we will meet you at the station," he gave a wry chuckle, "I suspect a fair number of the police themselves are former soldiers but it never hurts to appear presentable and not like one of the many ruffians plaguing this city of late."

Helmut Kürten & Nicola Hoffman.

Helmut and Nicola decided to investigate the asylums. Helmut reasoned that they could find some clues there. He was glad that Nicola was willing to go along with his hunch. He felt she was the only one who didn’t disregard him as a nuisance. He walked into the building, ignoring the constant noise of the patients. He rang the bell that was sitting at the receptionist’s desk.

“Hello, are you here to visit or to become an inpatient?” The receptionist asked, looking at Helmut. He was a slim man with dark hair combed carefully to the left and a neatly trimmed moustache adorning his top lip.

“Really!” Nicola tsked at him. Do I look like a Doctor to you? Sir… do you think there might be someone my friend might be able to speak to? Mister Kürten is investigating an unusual series of murders on behalf of the police, and he needs a professional opinion.

The man looked at Nicola, then at Helmut, taking in the uniform, then nodded, apparently seeing no reason to disbelieve this story. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, stepping out from behind the desk, shoes clicking on the hard tile floor of the old stone building as he searched for a Doctor. Presumably, he was in search of a Doctor.

“Well.” Nicola added, with a grin that suggested she hadn’t been half as confident as she had sounded when talking to the man, “It seems this uniform is rather useful at times.”

Helmut nodded while looking at Nicola. He was glad he wore his uniform, as it would allow them access to some patient files. While they were waiting, he noticed a middle-aged man staring at him. This patient looked oddly familiar to Helmut. Helmut was trying to figure out where he had seen him before, but then it suddenly came to him. This man was a lieutenant in another division during the war. He had seen him commanding a battalion during a battle in Mont Sorrel. The man saluted him, and Helmut saluted him back. A sense of dread overcame him, thinking he was destined to be here one day.

He noticed the doctor coming back and standing in front of them. The doctor was a short man with bright ginger hair. He looked at Nicola and then at Helmut. “Hello, Mr.Kurten I am Doctor Helzberg. And who are you?” His eyes went back to looking over at Nicola. It was more like staring, as he was pretty apprehensive.

Nicola paused, looking to Helmut, then back to the Doctor, “Mister Kurten is investigating a series of murders for the police, who, as I am sure you are aware, are quite busy now. A series of young women, around the Old Graveyard.”

“And you are wondering if it was one of my patients?” Helzberg queried rhetorically, “I can tell you no. If we believed a person was a danger to society, we would keep them here until we were certain their affliction had been cured. But there is something odd about these murders; is there anything else? Otherwise, you wouldn't be at an asylum. Come,” he motioned for them to follow him down a wide, stone corridor, deeper into the bowels of the old building, “Let us talk about what you have seen. I may be able to offer some insights into the killer's mind.”

Helmut looked over towards Nicola before following Dr.Helzberg. “So, what kind of insight do you have about the killer?” He said, trying to ignore the patients' dazed looks. “The wounds on the victims were human bite marks. We are looking for those who have cannibalistic tendencies. Perhaps you can give us some insight on that.” Limping between Nicola and the good doctor.

Helzberg glanced back with a concerned frown, then motioned for them to join him in an office behind a large oak door. Inside were mostly bookcases, though there was a messy-looking desk and two comfortable-looking armchairs for people to sit in, facing Helzburg’s chair, “I do have some insight… but with the lady present?”

Nicola looked slightly unsure of herself, though she assured Helzburg, “I have a strong constitution, Doctor. It is necessary as Mister Kurten’s assistant, after all!”

“Very well,” the doctor steepled his fingers, “What you have described sounds a lot like what Sigmund Freud would describe as a ‘psychosocial disorder.’ The victims are all women? Consumed?”

“Well, the latest victim was the assailant who consumed a woman, yes, and parts of her.” Helmut said, nodding his head. He had heard the term before. When he was younger and precisely when he was meeting a psychologist with his mother.

“In this world, we live in now, there are many damaged men,” Helzburg said. He reached into his top pocket for a packet of cigarettes. He tapped one out, lit it, and mutely offered the packet to Helmut, “Some are dangerous, some are not. I see some, others move invisibly in society,” The doctor took a long drag from his cigarette, “Some, who cannot achieve, shall we say -” a glance at Nicola, “- ‘romantic fulfilments’ in more normal ways, can turn to violence against women. These attacks could be from one such lost and dangerous soul. One who cannot find fulfilment due to damage to the body or the mind.”

Helmut shook his head at the doctor’s offer of the pack of cigarettes. Using a hand to cover his nose. The smell of cigarettes made him nauseous.“Sounds like we are looking for someone with violent tendencies. Or someone who has sort of mental illness that makes them want to attack a woman in such a way.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I do not know for sure, but what I said was someone who cannot fulfil their primal needs more traditionally, for one reason or another,” the doctor replied, taking another drag.

“I think we understand.” Nicola replied with an embarrassed giggle and slight blush, “Thank you.”

There was a pause, “If that is all?”

Nicola looked at Helmut, then back to the doctor, then between them a second time before answering, “We can see ourselves out. Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

“Perhaps it will be useful information,” Helzburg shrugged.

As they left the office, shutting the door behind them, Nicola turned to Helmut, “I’m not sure if you got what he was hinting at, but he was saying -”

“Ești blestemat cu semnul lupului. Vânează bine pe cei care consumă carnea omului.” She screamed out loud for other staff to notice. Helmut didn’t understand what she was saying but didn’t like her grabbing his hand. Putting something there before he could jerk it away from her. Opening his hand, he noticed a couple of long purple plants. He didn’t know what they were, but perhaps they could be helpful someday. Slowly, Helmut put the plant into his pant pocket and continued like nothing happened.

“Wolfsbane?” Nicola asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Is that what it’s called? I wonder why she would give me wolfsbane. But it’s unimportant now; we must focus on finding our killer. I think we should regroup with the others.” He said, walking out of the asylum. Feeling relieved since he had many bad experiences being inside of an asylum.

Theo Rautenhach

He wondered whether it was the joyfulness of youth or just the aftermath of the war; but Theo was struck by how bleak the city was. His days of migrant work might have been rough but the cities had seemed alive. Not utopian or idyllic, but vibrant and bustling with a sense of common energy.

Shuffling and trodding was the mark of most steps; a contrast from the purposeful stride of Theo. Every now and then there would be a group of people standing around; armbands or slogans signifying whatever cause they were standing for. A few had pistols tucked into waistbands or clutched old rifles; but for the most part it was truncheons or clubs.

The Freikorps roamed the streets as well; rough looking men often in the uniforms of their old units. Rifles and the rare machine pistol held in their grips as they went about their tasks; one group hauling men and women out of a busted shop window.

Cries of protests mingling with smashing clash as the militiaman wrestled people bound in ropes onto the ground or into the open tailgate of an idling truck. Off to the side, a trio of militiamen with slung rifles dumped boxes of pamphlets into a barrel. Their officer tossing a match in after a few boxes.

The crack of a gunshot had Theo duck instinctively but none of the Freikorps did. The wails of a woman followed the shot; growing louder as they hauled her out. Tears streaming down a red face as the militiamen on both sides of her dragged her out of the window.

"Dogs." Theo cast a glance at the speaker to his left. She was dressed like a regular factory worker; though her cloths were cleaner. Ink black hair pulled into a braid that disappeared into a workers cap. Rust colored eyes widened in fear as she caught Theo's eyes and realized what he was seeing.

She had a messenger bag of pamphlet's; the same pamphlets being thrown into the burn barrel. The latch had come undone slightly and showed the top of one pamphlet. The sickle hammer and star of the German Communist Party prominent on the header.

Theo realized what she was seeing, a tall man with the scars of the Great War and the eyes of a killer. An ill fitting suit like those used by the Republics secret police. Theo cast a glance at the unfolding scene as the Freikorps hauled the crying woman onto the truck as they dragged a dead body out; white shirt red with blood and limp while being dragged through the filth of the street.

He made his decision with no hesitation he found. Reaching out and tucking the offending pamphlets further into her bag. Redoing the latch before pulling back and giving a small tilt of his.

"Be careful of your words fraulein. Not all of us want more blood." He said the words low. A slight guilt pulling at him as he pulled away from the gathering and crowd and heading back on track. He had never done such things in the Freikorps; but he wondered how many of his tasks had allowed similar actions to occur. How many widows and orphans had he made or opened the way to be made?

The thoughts plagued him all the way to the police station. Where he found Sonja and Adam awaiting his arrival outside the front.

"My apologies for the delay. Freikorps caused a small disruption to my travel."