by blogbum
Alf knew something was wrong when Mavis bought him breakfast. She isn't incapable of generosity. There is simply considerably more evidence for the alternatives — and this time she's calling in the favour he once agreed to, within reason. A crate has gone missing from her rented store in Hartford. Bent buckles. Cracked clasps. Broken hooks. Worth almost nothing. Which is exactly why somebody bothered. No class. No levels. No Paladin powers. Just a notebook, a spear he hasn't paid for, and a small silver-white mushroom that only speaks when it matters. A standalone Hartford mystery. No dungeon required.
