Sigil: City of Doors

Altair knocked gray hair out of his face with his free hand, supporting the elf's body over his shoulder as he pressed his way through the Mortuary doors. He wiped sweat off his brow, shifting the elf's weight to try to shift the weight of the load. "You've put on some weight, mate. Woof." He moves to the nearest unoccupied slab bed and gently let Sibald's body down. He eyed the elf and briefly wondered if anyone would notice if he stole a bite. Mentally he had to stop and remind himself why he tried to never work hungry. Tearing himself away, he turned to the nearest living creature he could find.

"Hoi, berk. Yeh, you. 'Ere, look mate, I dunno where y'want 'im, but 'e's on th' table there. Tag's Sigurd. Tybalt?" He pulls a ring out of his pocket and holds it up in the dim light, reading it. "Sibald. That's th' one. Inked in th' B'zaar, near th' craftin' benches. Slicin' wounds. Too deep fer yer av'rage 'umanoid. Prob'ly talkin' beefy, but too small fer a troll 'er an ogre. Prob'ly some real burly bloke. Odds're good 'e's prob'ly on th' taller side. Weirdest fing, 'ooevah did it, I couldn' pick their scent up anyplace. Smelled almos' like 'e did it 'imself, but them cuts don't lie..." Altair rambles on for a while, detailing the circumstances in case it wound up being something the Dustmen needed. "Got a mate. She'll prob'ly be 'round all tore up some time soon. 'Ere's th' bloke's ring, t' prove it's 'im if she gets torqued. There's a mort in th' SIGIS, so she'll get th' news. Treat 'im good, arrigh'?"

He waves his hand, turning to head out. As he passes by Sibald's still form, he glances around to make sure no one is looking and grabs a [glove/sock/something small that would absorb sweat], pocketing it. It never hurt to have something to match a scent to, in case of emergency.

((If this is ran by an EM or DM feel free to ignore this response))

A blue goblin looks up at the werewolf, the little creatures moving as if its ego was quadruple its diminiutive body's size.

"So a deader, yes? We usually don't care how he died, violently or peacefully.... the true dead don't care anymore."

He gestures to a pale elf who starts to undress and wash the body, a last service done to the lifeless shell of something that no long ago was full of life and dreams.

"We'll treat Sibald well, he can be visited for three days before he gets cremated or animated."

He puts the ring into a small bag which is the stored in a drawer near the slab and if Altair lets him he returns to his duties- not caring what the werwolf might take from the man's belongings.