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Elcroon burped.

Delx looks around, waiting to see if anyone takes responsibility for checking out the scream. Black Dog stops gnawing her bone and stands, ears alert.

Two burly men of the Queens' Guard look up from their mugs of mulled wine, look at each other, stand up, and move toward the sturdy wooden stairs that lead up to the floor above. One of them slaps the banister as he starts to ascend. The noise accentuates the silence that has befallen the usually bustling dining area. The two mens' swords thump against their legs as they climb the stairs at a moderate pace.

As the guards get out of sight, conversation quietly resumes.

If he notices nothing out of the ordinary he focuses back on Delx and Elcroon.
Now that is what I would call a fast response time he says refering to the two guards rushing up the stairs.
It is probably best to leave it to the local authorities. he says wondering what may have happened upstairs.

Bishop notices three people get up from their table and head toward the back of the house. The two men and a woman are not particularly remarkable people, except that they appear to be headed to the latrine as a group. Of course, sometimes everyone needs to go at the same time.

Oblivious Elcroon, drunk, eyeing bosoms, pondering what magic knowledge may be accessible from Bishop, and thinking it’s time for another flagon, raised his cup to get the serving wench’s attention.

Such had been his drinking, a great urge to free his bladder overcame the bard. “Order me another, I need to drain the dragon,” as he headed to the latrine.

Bishop remains calm as he observes the trio leave for the latrine’s.
When he notices Elcroon standing up to take a leak, he moves his staff in front of him to stop him from walking off.
He does it subtly as he gets up to make it look like it was merely by accident. I will get you another ale, friend. he says, but adds in a whisper when he gets close to his ear. There is something off about the two men and woman who just left for the latrines. Keep your back safe when you take a leak and your ears active giving a grin before he walks over towards the bar. Using his staff like a walking stick. Not that he needs it, but it became a habit ever since his eyes could not handle shiny, bright lights anymore.

Delx observes an odd mix of people moving toward the backdoor and latrine. And notes Elcroon's and the Bishop's responses. He nods to them. He takes a look down at Black Dog. Yeah, ears up, Black Dog. But not a word for now. You know how to do it. Crockatrice hunter. He taps a communicative hand on the dog's neck. He takes stock of where his bow and dwarven axe rest between table and bench.

He motions to the busy waiting girl, who they've kind gotten to know over the evening. He nods, smiles and nods again. "Yes, three more here for we sots, if you please."

It's Elcroon's first trip to the loo here, but every worthwhile urban building in this country has a backdoor and an alley with a hut over a sewer opening. The Bosoms do too.

As Elcroon steps out the door he sees the backs of three people hurrying out the alley away from the latrine. Two men and a woman.

In the dining room, Delx sees and hears one of the Queens' Guards rapidly stomp down the stairs. "Everybody sit where you are," the burly middle-aged man says loudly. "Hostess, send a potboy to the guardhouse for the detectives. The rest of you, sit where you are. Nobody leaves." The guardsman taps the hilt of his sword in an authoritative way.

Guess we aren't heading for Ghostal just yet he says to Delx after his trip to the bar, while placing down three mugs of ale.
Bishop remains seated to avoid agitating the guards.

Elcroon whistled a tune while relieving himself, glad his mind was not composing verse to rhyme with latrine. That would be obscene.

The bard returned to his table, taking up his fresh flagon.

"So we're settled on what we'll need for Ghostal?"

Bishop nods in agreement.

The next morning you head westward across the cold plains in which Gogog sits. The walls of the city and the River Swift and the sunrise at your backs, your shadows waver on the breeze-rippled grass next to the wagon track that brings the fruit of coal mines down from the Silver Peaks to the river port.

What did you pack for lunch?

Before heading out, Delx gave 10 gold coins for equipping himself. He bought three pounds of salt, some burlap, and some twine. Then fashioned bags of salt tied around the heads of half of his arrows. He offered the Bishop materials for doing the same with the spear's, head, if he'd like.

He also inquired around about a place or purchase or trade for a silver-bladed or -headed weapon. Or would the dwarven axe be effective against ghosts? He asked the Bishop and Elcroon for their thought about that.

For provisions, he bought bread, hard cheese, watered wine, and enough dried beef and mutton for himself and Black Dog.

jemmus wrote: ↑Mon Nov 25, 2024 8:07 pm Before heading out, Delx gave 10 gold coins for equipping himself. He bought three pounds of salt, some burlap, and some twine. Then fashioned bags of salt tied around the heads of half of his arrows. He offered the Bishop materials for doing the same with the spear's, head, if he'd like.

He also inquired around about a place or purchase or trade for a silver-bladed or -headed weapon. Or would the dwarven axe be effective against ghosts? He asked the Bishop and Elcroon for their thought about that.

For provisions, he bought bread, hard cheese, watered wine, and enough dried beef and mutton for himself and Black Dog.

He would tell him what he knows about it.
For the gold, I'll check later what everything costs and give you back whatever I have left.

Magic weapons probably kill ghosts.

An immense flock of crows squabble and swoop through the air above you as you follow the wagon track. They repeatedly try to settle on one or the other side of the track, but before more than a few have roosted, another dispute begins and they all launch back into the air to sort it out. This continues for hours. The noise of avian argument racks your nerves.

We all know that crows are very intelligent, Delx says. A met a man who'd met a man who'd met a shaman of the hills who said they can see magic and spirits. Because they live here, and in the Other World, at the same time.

I was thinking Bishop would talk to the dead woman corpse and find out who the murderer was.

Elcroon had his usual equipment and rations.

@Tiddius I took some liberties on finding the branches. If there are none, he is simply out of luck as he cannot do the clay version. Or maybe he can, but he never tried it before. So if he cannot find it, please ignore the animating part of the post.

I have assisted the local authorities before. But only when approached. Offering aid unbidden has, in my experience, ended poorly. Accusations, suspicion, it has taught me caution. Still, your point is well-taken. Past experience is no guarantee of the future. Should this happen again, I’ll reconsider my approach. Bishop responds.

As the group travels, Bishop’s eccentricities become more pronounced.
At intervals, he mutters into the air, as though speaking to someone invisible. His behavior might strike an outsider as unsettling, though those accustomed to his mannerisms understand it is part of his connection to the unseen world. Along the way, Bishop collects fallen branches, examining each carefully before adding it to a growing bundle. If they pass a wooded area, he insists on stopping briefly, claiming it offers better materials for his work.
When night falls and camp is set, Bishop begins his strange ritual. Let us see if a scarecrow can offer us some assistence. he says as ties the collected branches together, forming a humanoid figure.
However, he does not use a stick to keep him upright. Instead, he gives him legs to stand on.
The spear he received from Delx is tied along with the branches. Giving the scarecrow a spear in his right hand, keeping it from using anything else in that hand. Tying very securely so it won’t drop.

Bishop lights the lantern of his staff to create a blue-ish glow around himself.
He raises his voice in clear and commanding tone, as he invokes the spirits:
Spirits of nature! He glances around, his glowing eyes scanning the air as if expecting an audience. I offer you the experience of life in exchange for temporary service. When the task is complete, you will be freed to return to your realm. Come forward if you accept!

For a moment, there is silence. Making him appear even more like a madman believing in fairy tales. Then Bishop nods, as if acknowledging something unseen. He turns to the effigy, extending his hands as the light from his lantern coalesces into a concentrated orb of energy. His voice grows louder, almost thunderous:
Rise, Faun, spirit of nature! Come forth into this world of the living!

The scarecrow’s wooden limbs start to creak. It jerks upright, its motions still stiff but slowly start to gain some fluidity. A gasp escapes from its nonexistent lungs as it comes to life. Guard this encampment while we rest Bishop commands Protect us from harm. Bow if you understand.
The effigy lowers itself in a deliberate bow, then straightens and begins its patrol.

Its crude, I admit Bishop says to his companions as if not completely satisfied with the result. But it will do the job until I find a more suitable vessel he adds before sitting down and turning off the light in his lantern.
He sits down comfortably and takes out a loaf of bread. Breaks it to share with his companions.
Hungry? he asks as he offers a torn off piece.