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“Assault
with salt!”

exalted Elcroon.

Hoping the lore of silver against ghosts was true, the musicmancer thrust at the phantom menace with his silver poker.

“Gods guide my stroke this deadly poke!”

Elcroon thrust at the dwarf ghost with the silver poker, maneuvering to defend Delx.

- Attack SK 7 [1d12]=4 Fight Advantage [1d12]=4
- Not sure if its either/or for attack and defend. If both, here is defend:
- Defend SK 7 [1d12]=8, Fight Advantage [1d12]=7

Black dog barks angrily as she jumps in front to defend him with all her might!
She will go for the handle of the axe if she sees an opening. If she fails to see an opening, she will focus on causing a distraction.

Black Dog leaps high and chomps hard on the pine handle of the axe. Her weight and momentum yank the weapon from the ghostly grip. The steel blade clatters and sparks against the stone floor when she lands, crouched and ready for action.

Elcroon, meanwhile, deftly steps aside and thrusts. His silvered blade disperses the ghost with an audible "pop" into a fading silver mist.

Well done, friends! Delx says. So now we know a little of what might dwell here. Ghosts, bearing earthly physical weapons, for one thing. He flexes his fingers and rubs his ears. Better. I'd guess both are pink again and no longer blue. Are we warmed up and ready to proceed? Perhaps to that south door? He points a rather long finger that way.

“A good poke with firm stroke popped it into smoke.
Hmm, therein lurks a joke.”

Elcroon pet the dog. He picked up the fallen axe, evaluating its heft, balance, condition and sharpness. Was it preserved and perhaps magical, or pitted and dull, as old as this place?

“Aye Delx, let us once more explore
Through the south door!”

Black dog moves towards the southern door with renewed vigor.

The axe is in good condition. Cold air is dry; there are only a few spots of orange on the dark steel. The handle is smooth as if polished - aside from the dents from Black Dog's bite.

Denizen? [_3d6]=(1+2+1)=4

The south door opens to a narrow passage which you follow for less than a minute before reaching:

A nursery. This is where the dwarfen children were cared for. The room is filled with cribs, toys, and other items for the children, as well as the petrified bodies of two dwarfen caretakers still wearing comfies.

As your torch lights the room, a vaporous dwarf seeps forth from one of the caretakers. Woe to you trespassers, it moans.

Delx readies a small handful of salt, conscious of conserving his supply. He wishes he'd had the foresight to fit some of his arrowheads with packets of salt. Perhaps when there's time, he can do so with materials in this nursery.

Silver poker at the ready, Elcroon declared:

“Hark ghost! We would speak
learn what ye souls stills seek
that keeps you haunting still
to scare explorers and kill.

We seek to restore Ghostal glory
please tell us your story!
Mayhap these forges can burn again
Filled with song of dwarven ken.”

If the ghost was disinclined to talk, Elcroon thrust with his silver poker.

The ghost billows at you. Uh ...

It swirls.

I personally would welcome news of the world. Are there dwarf children, heirs to the hall, who live out in the world?

Delx (aside to Elcroon and Black Dog): I think he or she likes your verse and rhymes, Elcroon. They're just warming up to them. And it's a good thing you did, so we don't have to... terminate them? He steps forward, arms outstretched below his waist and chest open, torch guttering in his off left hand. Sir or madam, we mean no harm nor intrusive trespass. What my friend Mr. Elcroon rhymes is true. We have come to investigate old Ghostal... That's what people call it now, but I know it has a truer and fairer name, which I can't recollect just now. Please remind me, if you would. He glances to Elcroon, and even to Black Dog. Yes, the nation of dwarves yet thrives outside of this mountain. They carve out and build wondrous cities, and forge splendid weapons and tools of steel. Boy and girl dwarves court and flirt and giggle, and proud grandpappy and grandmammy smile and stroke the thick-haired heads of stout dwarf babies. If I might try to play you an impromptu song, sir or madam.... Thoughts set to music and verse. Ahem.

He quickly draws his flute from his pack and picks out the notes of new melody. Hitting one bum note and changing it to another. Then sings:
Two men and a dog
Came in from the cold
And found it just as cold here-o!

A cockatrice was not so nice
But the dog put an end to its life
In a wag of a tail-o!

They came through a hall
Another and all
And to a place of babies swaddling
They met a fine (mumbled) dwarf and...

He gives Elcroon the musicians' accustomed serious eye sign saying, "It's all yours now, pick it up from here, give it a go and I'll be back before we miss a beat! Sorry about the 'swaddling' lyric. Hard to rhyme, I know." He gives Black Dog the same look, but a little milder one. And another deliberate one to Elcroon, first at the axe and then at the ghost, saying, "Stash that quick, before he or she spots it!"

Why is master not attacking? Can he not see it is a ghost? Better not try to fool master ghost. You don't fool me. I can see you are a ghost. her growl rumbles low in her throat, eyes fixed on the ghost.

Swaddling indeed, thought Elcroon as he picked up the melody…

“…met a kind dwarf coddling.”

“Her children heirs to the world above
Yet eager to return to caverns they love.
Dwarf miner, tinker, tailor, soldier
Living their lives brimming and bolder.”

“Why are your halls abandoned and alone?
What transpired, leaving cold and bone?
Can life and fire be brought back?
So dwarf children can follow ancestors tracks?”

“Dear ghost pray tell your name
And what tragedy spawned your bane.”

Woe, moans the ghost, I have forgot my name. It billows. Do you mock me? It swoops at a crib, scoops up a poppet, and flings the doll at Elcroon.

Delx nods to Elcroon, saluting his inspired (and inspirational) performance. But sends him a meaningful frown acknowledging the audience's foul reaction. He continues an instrumental of the motif, with a breaks of little improvisations on the theme on his flute. Meanwhile sweeping his boots along the floor, swaying to the rhythm, and nodding his head as he describes a semi-circle to the ghosts side and to its rear. He stops and bows to the wraith of the dwarf, awkwardly pushing out his sheepskin coat if holding out a cloak to his sides.

My friend doesn't mock you, sir dwarf. He gives you the truth about the dwarves outside, but in the only way he can. You see, he is under some enchantment or glamour, so that he can only speak in verse. Perhaps you can help rid him of it? And if Ghostal also be ensorcelled, you can teach us how how we may rid you of it? What happened here? Who did it? And how, and why? He steals glances at Elcroon and Black Dog, giving the eye sign saying, "Yes, please have that poker and that vicious snarl and bark ready, if you would."

Black Dog remains vigilant. Ready to strike at her master's command.

The ghostly dwarf emits a whimper and abruptly swirls back from you, rapidly seeping into its statue host. Apparently it doesn't want to interact.