Caligo in Chains - Life's Bazaar

[Eldan]

The Song and Sword might be what passes for a fancy bar in Waketown. Jokingly called "The Pillowsphere" by the inhabitants, it has been built on the interior of the decomissioned hull of an obsolete type of heavy dreadnaught that somehow ended up in Waketown. It is a single, hollow sphere of wood, the walls massive and strong enough to withstand catapults and ramming spikes (not that these are common threats to a Waketown bar).
The sphere is large enough that fleeting tendrils of protoplasm mist can be seen hovering between the walls. In the center sits what must once have been a series of candles one stuck on top of the other, but is now a ten foot wide, irregular ball of warped-looking, many-coloured wax with two dozen burning wicks in it shedding light on the bar. A ring-shaped counter runs around it, with three rather bored looking waiters leaning against it, chatting and polishing glasses.
The outer wall of hte sphere, because of the weightlessness, serves as one giant bar floor, covered in giant, many-coloured pillows carefully tethered to the wall with string and low tables with clamps to hold drinks and bottles.
For those guests wishing for some privacy, old carpets have been pulled over pipes and ropes around some of the tables to create small tents, keeping curious eyes away from them.
Only one of the tents is currently occupied, the one where the waiters will send anyone inquiring about the "Specialist work".

[Zweanslord]

One of the low tables in the Song and Sword seemed to have an attendant of the less lively sort. Husan, a man marked by his pale, dry skin, was sitting there, in thought. Maybe he was thinking of a new dance, the other attendees, the latest joke or perhaps something more enlightened. Whatever it was, he was soon disturbed from thought.

"BOO!" Jumping halfway out of the table was the torso of the ghostly Gregory, holding his arms up high and dangling his fingers above his head in his attempt to scare Husan! "Ahaha! I got you there, didn't I? Didn't I, buddy?" Gregory looked for recognition of having scared Husan, even if Husan was completely used to his buddy's antics and thus could have expected this when he had lost sight of Gregroy. That and, besides him being a ghost, the act wasn't exactly intimidating.

With a jovial smile on his face, Gregory looked at Husan for his answer, while he seemed to drift through the table while he kept his hands raised, waiting in anticipation. This translucent ghost, capable of moving through objects with ease, was a familiar sight in Husan's vicinity, the two of them both knowing the embrace of death, even if it was from a completely different perspective. Gregory's friendly face was surrounded by his long hair, which seemed to float along him as (subjective) gravity had no effect on his fleeting or floating existence. The original colour of his hair, eyes or skin was difficult to determine due to his translucence, though it seemed that he had been part of the regular human race.

Dressed in fine garbs, he probably used to be somebody who had been well to do, though where life seemed to have robbed him from, well, life, his jovial spirit was still lingering about. While his ghastly appearance might scare some, those who got to knew Gregory a little bit would realise he was relatively harmless in his antics.

[whoiam]

Unlike the playful undead inside the bar, Psalacantha did not yet have a table. Although this was for a very good reason - she had only just reached the bar door, and was taking her first few glances inside...


In case she draws any PC glances, she currently appears to be:

More-or-less brown skinned. It's a touch reddish, but not significantly.
Dressed. In a plain cream summer dress that isn't a particularly good, or flattering, fit. But it does expose her arms and most of her legs.
Unarmed
New to the area (or at least new to the bar)




It was... unusual. Even a few weeks after her arrival, Psalacantha still felt mildly disoriented by some of Waketown's weirder architecture. There was something, buried deep in her mind, that said places like this really did make sense. But it was buried under a layer that said gravity should have a set direction, and to hell with her senses' reports!

Her step into the room was hesitant, not least because of the odd few gazes she drew. Not as bad as the ones she had received when she first began travelling. It was, she idly reflected, likely due to the fact she was dressed this time. However odd a fey or spirit she might be, the fact she was wearing a dress seemed to make her more respectable.

Not that she was complaining. The odd tangle was far better than the crowds she used to draw.

As the first waiter floated by, she questioned him briefly about the 'specialist work', getting directions to the occupied 'tent'. But she did not immediately approach it, preferring instead to continue examining the room. After all, it was new, and exciting, and who knew when she'd have a good reason to visit somewhere like this again?

[Volthawk]

As Psalacantha examines the room, Dex drifts over, drink in hand (taking care not to spill any) having noticed her looking around. He simply had a dark long cloak covering his armour and weapons, as well as a new fancy hat he'd 'found' the day before, and a grin on his face (which wasn't currently anything too remarkable - his form was that of a local man with short brown hair) as he used a nearby table to swing down onto the floor again. Sure, he had a job to look into, but eh, he had time to look into anything interesting for a bit before he went in. Besides, he had a drink to finish.

"Hey, you new in town?

[whoiam]

"Sort of. Certainly I am new in this part of town. And I do not often visit... bars. I remember being told that they are no place for the young. But the recruiting flyers said to come here, so..."

Extending the man a hand (with its claws retracted), she introduced herself. "I'm Psalacantha. You?"

[Matar]

Sitting down was always a fun activity in a weightless environment. It pretty much amounted to wanting to sit then, and then never forgetting which way you want to sit down. Husan was good at that, the Dance of Still Movement. He was one among the undead, there could be no one better at the dance.

A smile formed on his face as Gregory phased through the floor, shouting boo at him. With a voice that was as rough as gravel and tainted with the coldness of undeath Husan spoke to his undead buddy.

"You have been practicing." Husan nodded, his posture relaxed and his body unmoving besides the movement of his clothing in the weightless of the bar. With an unnecessary sigh (Something he picked up from mortals, it was a very expressive movement) Husan ended the Dance of Still Movement and slid his feet off the table.

"This place needs more music Gregory, mortals always find it so odd when I dance in silence." He stands. "But I suppose this is not the time for music. Which I find upsetting. No, this is a time to find out about work. But first, I'd like to find out who we may be dancing with."

A pause.

"Did you catch that, Gregory? I said dancing instead of working. I told you that'd catch on. This is something that can actually be a thing."

Another pause. They were rather awkward to see, seeing as how he was undead and didn't move even slightly when he did so.

"Anyways, let's float around the tent over there and see who comes our way. I've been dying to see who we're going to work with."

[Zweanslord]

"Woo!" Gregory let out in excitement, his hands up in a cheer because of the compliment. When Husan suggested music, Gregory was the first (and probably the only one) to nod in solid agreement. "Aand music is fun!" He managed to squeeze in as comment before Husan fully stood.

His face seemed to become sad for a moment as Husan said it was no time for music. "Awww..." This changed again when Husan mentioned dancing, lighting up Gregory's face.

"I'm sure of it! It'll be the popularest thing!" He said enthusiastically, adding a laugh. With all this talk of dancing, Gregory couldn't restrain himself and let himself slide out of the table sideways with a dancing step, rolling his arms from the table end towards the outer end, striking the hands out horizontally.

Unlike the still Husan, Gregory seemed to be full of movement. Even when he was not moving his body, it seemed as if his body itself had difficulty sticking to one place, floating softy around, and his translucent self was a bit blurry, as ectoplasmic mists seemed to be part of him. This stir seemed to have an effect on his surroundings, as wisps of dust had a tendency to swirl near him and even objects seemed to stir at times, as if seeing Gregory's inner festivity and wanting to party along.

As Gregory slid out of the table, his style of dress became more apparent. Wearing rich trousers, finely made boots and a blouse with expensive ornaments as well as a sleeveless, tight, doublet with a complex pattern that eludes understanding due to its translucent movement. From his shoulders sprouts a short mantle that could be draped further over his upper body for some additional warmth, though Gregory never does so, having lost that need. A belt with a belt pouch and a sheathed blade rings his hips, but unless you are a ghost like Gregory, one should not have fear of being harmed by the sword.

While his clothing marks him as having belonged to the high society, it is also clear that this was a high society of the past, as his style of wear is now old fashioned and relatively out dated. It also alludes to a certain sense of regal look, which Gregory doesn't seem to put much effort in to uphold as he dances out of the table.

"I'm an expert at floating! Also, we've got experience with the dying part, so seeing who we're going to work with should be easy as pie!" He states with a jovial grin as he starts to float over towards the tent, slowly rotating around in a cartwheel motion as he does so. "Maybe carpet lovers?" He suggests as to whom they will meet, considering the tent seems to be composed mainly out of carpets.

[Volthawk]

Dex takes the hand eagerly. "Name's Dex, and from the sounds of it we're here for the same reason. And...when they say 'not safe for the young', they mean people a lot less...mature than you."

[whoiam]

"Really, people are supposed to go into bars when they are *this* young? I thought childhood was supposed to last for years! One of the most frequent complains I have heard from smaller people is how they are 10, 12 years old and still treated like children..."

One of the things Psalacantha had never figured out is the mortal aging process. Which is why she, having come into existance with a body equivalent to someone in their mid-20s and never living in one place long enough to see someone age, could never understand why people always got her age so wrong when they made estimates.

She assumed it was because her body was *so* alien to them, the tricks they used to date each other simply gave the wrong result when used on her. That she looked the spitting image of a much older age group than she was technically in... hadn't occured to her yet.

"Well, no matter. Young or not, if the interviews are here, I'll have to brave it." Pause for another glance around. "Doesn't look that bad, if I am honest..."

[Volthawk]

Dex is quiet for a moment, with a raised eyebrow. "Right...well, I for one was in a bar when I was ten, but that's not the norm, no. How old are you, anyway?"

[Niezck]

The door swings open once more as an armour-clad man walks in. Taller than your average human, with pale blue skin where visible, a long golden cloak flows down from his shoulders to almost the floor, somehow retaining its shape despite the (lack of) gravity. A large, gilded sword sits on the man's back and travelling furs finish his ensemble.

Clearly adept at handling unusual gravity, he floats effortlessly over to the nearest waiter, seems to ask him a quick question and is pointed toward the occupied tent. Smiling and nodding to him, the man takes a good look around bar before spotting Psalacantha and Dex. He floats over with ease and offers his hand to each of them in turn.

"Greetings! Are you two here for the job also?""

[whoiam]

"Six, maybe seven... months... I think... Sorry, but the people around when I woke up weren't exactly the 'answering questions' or the 'providing calendars' type. When I got away I sat down with a calendar and tried counting back, but... no guarantee it's accurate. I think my memory skips a few days here and there."

It's at this point in her reply that Psalacantha's elabouration is disrupted by the arrival of a newcomer. As she's offered a hand, she shakes it, commenting "I am... do I really stand out that badly? I could never get the hang of clothes..."

[Volthawk]

"Ah...well, your appearance doesn't really suggest that - you look a lot older than you actually are. And yeah, you kinda do stand out, what with your appearance, newness to the area and the like.

Dex shakes the new person's hand. "Name's Dex, and yeah I'm here for the job."

[Niezck]

Baraz smiles at the two in turn, seeming to expect something more by way of reply. Realising it isn't going to happen, he awkwardly chuckles.

"Ah, yes! I should introduce myself. Sha- Ah, hm, Baraz. My name is Baraz. Nice to meet you! I wouldn't say it's entirely obvious what you're here for my dear, just call it a good guess!"

He pauses a moment to look around the bar yet again.

"Say... Do either of you know where we should be going? The help said the tent over yonder", pointing appropriately, he continues, "But I'm not convinced. Never trust the help and all."

[Eldan]

"Well, bugger a nathri then, your shininess.", the help behind the bar grumbles to himself in response to that, just audible enough to be heard and low enough to be denied if asked.

[Volthawk]

Dex chuckles at the barman's whisper, and nods, downing what's left of his drink. "It's the tent, yeah. And I think it's about time we went and see what they want." He then kicks off from the wall to drift over to the tent.

[whoiam]

"Strange... I always found 'the help' more helpful than people in armour. I thought that was where the euphemism came from..."

At the very least, no servant has ever tried to arrest me for 'public indecency'. What an odd phrase that is, anyway. I was being very polite at the time.

The back of Psalacantha's dress bulges oddly, as undersized wings instinctively try to unfurl, only to be held back by the back of a garment made for humans. Lucky she didn't need them here, then, as a little push was enough to get her airborne and floating in the direction of the 'tent'.

And enough to give her typist Dead Space flashbacks

[Matar]

"Finally, Gregory! Mortals! ... I think. You know what to do." Saying this Husan begins the Dance of Cold Warmth and drifts slowly towards Dex and the others.

Movement that calms,
Warm gestures show life,
Born from the Grave,

Wondrous.

"Hello! I noticed you floating over here. You wouldn't be interested in this here tent, would you? I ask only because you'll no doubt be working with me soon, if all goes well. My name is Husan, hunter and friend to the undead. Might I ask your names?"

A pause, perfect stillness.

"And talents, if you don't mind me asking. If not now, then hopefully after we've been decided to help. I don't know if they'll force us to work together, but it's always for the best I think. Safety in numbers and such, yes?"

[Zweanslord]

Know what to do.. know what to do.. Gregory pondered for a moment. As a ghost, his thoughts were at times hazy, as were his memories. It probably wasn't singing and floating gently to the others and offering a polite introduction? Nah, that couldn't be it either. Aha! Gregory knew.

Flying in the walls of the Pillowsphere, ehrm, Song and Sword, he made his way to the opposite wall of the ensemble to flank them. Bursting out from the wall, he rushed towards the group with arms raised up in a scary manner, arriving a moment after Husan's introduction, letting out:

"BOO!"

With a wide grin on his face, he looked at their reactions with a hopeful expression, hoping to see at least one startled reaction amongst Dex, Baraz and Psalacantha.

[huyneo]

Only recently hearing the notice, Eoru has not been in Waketoen long. For his few days here already, the use of the weightlessness here was very inventive and startling. It astounded him, again, the moment he entered the Song and Sword. He looked around to see the place, and wished that no one could tell that he wasn’t from around here. Perhaps it was because his feet were planted on the ground or the image of a black and golden construct mimicking his every movement, surrounding him like some weird armor. At the attempt of looking ordinary, he wore his ordinary clothes, with a simple chain shirt underneath, along with a cloak, which seems unnecessary because there’s no such weather in Waketown. The only weapon in sight is a mere dagger at his waist, which isn’t as imposing as the strange figment.

After briefly speaking to a startled waiter about the work, Eoru looks up at the tent above him. Instead of floating towards it, like everyone else in the room, he starts walking along the bar floor. As he purposefully makes each step, Eoru notices the few others floating to the very same destination. Hurrying up, he reaches the tent at the same time.

“Greetings, are you all here for the work as well?”

Perhaps a little too formal, but it’s necessary when addressing others you don’t know yet.

Right then, Gregory came up right from underneath Eoru. Horribly startled, he leaps into the air. After a moment of realization, he comes down next to Gregory laughing. Patting him on the back, as if he were corporeal.

“That’s good! Oh boy, that was really good!”

Gregory feels a slight resistance as Eoru pats him on the back.

[Togo]

A small shape appears at the door. Clad head to toe in fine armour, decorated with whirling spiral patterns etched into the metal, it is at first almost impossible to tell who is inside, or even whether it is occupied at all. A pair of long axe blades on handles are strapped to his back, neatly arranged around a bulging backpack that has been tightly strapped down.

With a fluid motion he flips the visor open, and peers around the bar. The worried eyes scan around the room, lingering on the curve of the massive wooden walls, before reluctantly carrying on the room's inhabitents. He turns on the spot as he scans the room, evidently familiar enough with movement in this strange space not waste effort turning his head.

His eyes light up as they arrive at the eclectic group lurking near the tent. With a whoosh. he pushes off the wall, and soars towards the group, a metal missle coming in at alarming speed. He starts to slow as he comes closer, but not enough.

You have got to be the people I'm ... Awk!

He soars through the group, one hand reaching out to stop himself and passing straight through Gregory without finding a suitable handhold. He manages a neatish flip, and slows to a sprawling stop.

Ok, just so you know, that worked really when I practiced it.

He neatens his posture, by pulling in his limbs to form a ball, and then gradually extending them into a more stable stance.

Let's try that again, are you waiting to go in there?

He gestures at the tent, trying not to notice that this sends him into a slow clockwise spin.

[whoiam]

Psalacantha did not give a startled reaction to Gregory's antics... mostly because she'd already been aware that the ghost was around. Early arrival bonus at work!

What did surprise her was the other two arrivals. Eoru in a standard 'what... is that?!' kind of surprise. But the winning reaction was to the small armoured figure who flew through Gregory. Someone in full armour charged towards her, implying he'd been searching for her... she immediately concluded she was under attack. Spreading her arms wide, extending her claws, and bracing for impact... which never happened, as the figure passed harmlessly through the ghost.

She wasn't entirely sure whether she should be giving chase or laughing.

By the time he's done talking, she's worked out that he's not after her. Retracting her claws, Psalacantha starts floating 'down' towards the 'tent'. As before, there's that same odd movement on the back of her dress as her wings vainly try and respond to the perception of flight.

"Correct... except the 'waiting' part."

Once she reaches the tent, Psalacantha takes a peak inside...

[Zweanslord]

Looking terribly amused as he manages to startle Eoru, Gregory's attitude dramatically shifts as he feels Eoru's pat on the back. Leaping away from the resistance, with an intense look of dread on his face, he spouts out: "W..wha!?" Looking beyond baffled and confused, Gregory swiftly moves up to the arm Eoru just used to provide the sensation of feel. One hand he uses to grab Eoru's wrist to keep it still. There is a sensation of touch, despite Gregory being a ghost, but it seems to lack any strength behind it, a very gentle, soft and almost non-existent grasp. Gregory hovers his face in front of the hand, inspecting it. "How did you do that?" The other hand he uses to move through Eoru's hand, then trying to gently push his hand against Eoru's, trying to discover if there is any resistance at all, any kind of touch, any kind of sensation that would defy his incorporealness. Unlike his other hand holding Eoru, this one does not seem to have any touch, being fully incorporeal.

Meanwhile, another man passed through him. Gregory laughs at him being unable to find any hold, his laugh a ghostly one, echoing softly. He was about to say something witty, to react to it, but it didn't come, hung in the air, forgotten, as Gregory was back at inspecting Eoru's hand. Had he truly felt touch from a living mortal without a ghost-touch weapon or item? Or was he going crazy?

[Niezck]

Heading over to the tent with the others, Baraz is alert as one would expect of an armour-clad, greatsword-wielding man such as himself. This is evident as Gregory bursts out and shouts boo, Baraz quickly unsheathes his blade and begins floating toward the ghost post haste.

His charge is halted, however, when the new arrival chuckles and pats the ghost on the back. Realising his mistake, Baraz coughs awkwardly and puts his greatsword back, bowing to the ghost.

"My apologies. Pleasure to meet you. I am Sh- Baraz. My name is Baraz." He catches himself yet again, silently cursing his lack of practice with his informal name.

With that he attempts to shake the hand of each member of the group in turn (at least those he has not already met) with a particularly long, cold stare at Husan. This done, he floats inside the tent and takes a seat.

[Volthawk]

"Huh. Undead. Didn't expect that."

Dex doesn't give much else conversation as he continues onwards to the tent, drifting past Psalacantha as she stops to look before she goes in,

[Matar]

With a shrug Husan drifts a bit closer to the rest of the team, keeping a milky white eye on Baraz. 'That one could be a problem.'

Glancing over to Gregory (while keeping Baraz in the side of his vision) he smiles a bit, happy to see his old friend making other friends. Not that Gregory ever stopped trying. One of his best traits, certainly.

Watching the group chat for a few moments Husan then heads inside the tent along side everyone, keeping his eyes peeled for Baraz when he does so.

[huyneo]

Eoru chuckles at Gregory's confusion and simply watches as his hand is stolen by a ghost for experimentation. He had an idea what Gregory was talking about. He was simply amused that he startled a ghost. Politely, he waits as the ghost puts his hand through Eoru's. Upon holding Eoru's wrist and pushing against his hand, Gregory feels a slight resisting force even as he pushes through the image of the construct. This continues through Eoru's hand until it reaches the other side of the construct image. All the while, Eoru can't feel a thing but can vaguely see the affect on his new associate.

Perhaps it was his own way of greeting others. Spirits tend to do that. Best to be polite.

Scratching his head with his free hand, Eoru turns slightly to face Baraz to shake his hand, making sure that his captive appendage does not move. The image does not mimic this action immediately. For a moment, it seems to stare at Gregory before following Eoru's motion to shake Baraz's hand.

"I believe all introductions will be done inside the tent. It's good to meet you, Baraz." Facing Gregory again. "Perhaps we should take residence inside the tent, so that we can proceed in an orderly fashion." Noticing that a few others have already drifted into it.

[Zweanslord]

Gregory looked up from his investigation for a moment when Baraz grasped his sword and rushed at him. But even as Baraz apologised, Gregory laughed. Whether he was laughing at or with Baraz was unclear though, but it was clear Gregory amused himself at it. He gave a nod at Baraz' bow, but was soon caught up with studying Eoru again.

"Hmmm.." He let out, as he seems to look ever so suspicious at the hand. There was something in there, something that bothered Gregory without end. Pushing his hand multiple times through Eoru's hand, he then stuck his hand through Eoru's hand, to see if he still felt the same there too. If the case, he would then let go of Eoru's wrist, relieving him of the ever soft ghostly touch.

And then he proceeds to poke his arm through Eoru's body. His arms, his chest, his legs, his feet, his head and neck, trying to see if he could feel the same sensation there too. In the mean time he still looks overly suspicious at Eoru, and maybe not entirely serious as his expression plays out rather over the top. "Hmmm!"

It took several moments before Gregory realised Eoru had asked a question. "Oh!" A short pause as he stuck his arm through Eoru again. "That's fine, go ahead." Even if Eoru would move there, Gregory would simply continue his investigation as he floated along.

[Togo]

The small figure is disappointed to see everyone disappearing towards the tent. He gives another powerful and unecesary jump towards the enclosed area, and then tries his flip and slow manovere again, this time with considerable more accuracy. As he passes Psalacantha, feet first and decelerating, he speaks up.

Thanks for trying to catch me back there.

With a deft bounce he lands upside down on the entranceway, and then looks down, trying to work out how to get in. As the group start drawing into the tented enclosure, he awkwardly angles himself to follow them.

[Eldan]

The tent is just a bit too low to stand up fully, but the woolen carpets and the pillows, several layers thick on the floor, provide a comfy athmosphere around the small table that has been bolted to the floor. A tall, golden candle stands in the middle of the table, surrounded by two lidded decanters, a steamping teapot, several cups and glasses and even a few flat clay bowls with small snacks: nuts, dried fruit and berries.
On one of the pillows, opposite the entrance sits a young man, leaning against one of the tent poles. He can't be much over twenty, with slender limbs in a simple shirt of undyed wool and a clean-shaven, hazelnut-brown face. His eyes are pitch black and twinkling in the candlelight as he looks up to you.
"Ah, good morning", he says.
"Please, sit down. I am Judge Daul."

[whoiam]

"No problem." Psalacantha responded smoothly to the small armoured figure as it passed her. She felt no particular need to point out she hadn't intended it to be a nice gesture. After all, they could be about to end up working together...

...With most of the group now ahead of her, and the man inside the tent introducing himself, Psalacantha slipped inside as well. Claws firmly retracted, she offered the newest of the strangers her hand.

She'd never been to a job interview before. Her mind was suggesting there was something people should say at these points, but she could not for the life of her work out what it was. She picked the safest of the options available to her, and introduced herself in turn.

"I am Psalacantha, " was her response to his greeting. For lack of anything else to say, she then lapsed back into silence.

[Matar]

Husan nods his head and quietly sits down near the edge of the tent. He didn't take up much room (although certainly more then Gregory), but he did smell like lightly scented leather. It wasn't unpleasant, but it certainly wasn't human.

Beginning the Dance of Mortal Interaction Husan spoke, his body imitating life in order to stand out less. It didn't really help, but some people found him less creepy when he actually blinked his eyes and breathed, even if it was completely pointless.

"I am Husan. I believe you are offering a job?"

[Volthawk]

Dex takes a seat, taking the chance to size up the man in front of them.

"Dex. So what's the job?"

[Niezck]

Crouching to allow for the limited height of the tent, at least so much as one could crouch whilst floating, Baraz attempted a floating-croaching-bowing motion, looking really rather bizarre. Realising his silliness, he simply drifted over to one of the pillows and sat.

"I am Baraz, a pleasure to meet you."

He simply sat, waiting for the man to continue about the job.

[huyneo]

Wherever Gregory poked and prodded Eoru, he always felt slight resistance just as he was piercing through the semi-transparent image that was covering Eoru. This happened throughout the entire image and not any more resistance in going through Eoru’s own body. Leaving his new acquaintance to figure out his question, Eoru is the latest to enter the tent. Scratching his head, he sits down rigidly on the closest open spot.

Seeing that everyone else around him was introducing themselves right there, he spoke up next.

“Eoru Weylen”

Figuring there was no need to add anymore, since everyone else was already asking questions.

[Zweanslord]

Despite everybody going in the tent, even Gregory as he followed Eoru, he did not really seem to care about what was happening. Ignoring Judge Daul completely as he was caught up in his activities, he finished poking through Eoru and looked at him suspiciously and pondering. Floating in front of Eoru, he gently drifted closer until his face was in front of Eoru's, looking him in the eye. He started to whisper, rather loudly, meaning everybody in the vicinity could still hear him.

"Did you know.."

Dramatic pause.

"..you're possessed by a ghost?"

[Eldan]

The judge smiles at the various introductions, then nods gravely, gesturing at the cushions.
"Very well. Please, sit down. As for the job I am about to offer you... well. What have you heard about the recent string of disappearances?"

[Togo]

The small figure leans forwards, then backwards, drifiting free of his cushion as he does so.

Bol here. Um... I'm assuming you suspect something more exotic than gambling debts or elopements?

[Niezck]

Baraz listens intently, then pauses a moment as he waits for the armoured figure to finish.

"I've heard that they've been happening, but nothing beyond that. Are we to investigate?"

[whoiam]

Taking the Judge's invitation, Psalacantha carefully folds herself up atop one of the cushions. As she comes to rest, the back of her dress *finally* stops crawling as her little winglets settle down.

"That's more than I've heard. To hear the people I've been speaking to tell it, everything in Waketown is just perfect, and they'll prove it to me with a trip to this little bar they know..."

Strange how I didn't notice the pattern until I came to tell someone else about it. Come to think of it, I probably should have been suspicious about the number of people who wanted to get me drunk at first sight... Surely the point of a guided tour is that you remember the place you're being shown?

"...

...

...I think I just had one of those moments in life when you suddenly realise you're not cynical enough.

So, glossing over my intellectual shortcomings a moment, I'll second Baraz' question of 'What do you want us to do?'"

[Matar]

Giving his shoulders a small shrug Husan speaks up. "I've heard rumors, yes, but nothing more. People don't dance with the dead often."

Husan grins slightly and glances at Gregory, rather proud of himself for that one. He was going to ask what needed to be done, but someone already beat him to that.

[huyneo]

Despite Gregory's staring contest with Eoru, Eoru merely listened to everything else around him, as if Gregory didn't even exist. Shaking his head, Eoru knew very little to none of the events that have been taking place in Waketown. As such, it was not his place to say much of anything. Focusing back on Gregory, he smiled, whispering as to not distract the others very much.

"I'm not possessed, as you might think. It's more like a mutual haunting. If that makes any sense. But otherwise, perhaps we should continue this conversation later, when we aren't being as rude to the people nearby."

Briefly motioning towards the others in the tent.

[Eldan]

"Gambling debts and elopements? They happen often enough. Though we usually find out when they do."
The judge picks up a small cracker and eats it.
"But either of the two rarely happens to eight year old orphans. Orphans in a home, not on the street, mind you."

[whoiam]

"Really, that old?" Having never had one herself, Psalacantha had never grasped the concept of 'childhood'. To her, 8 years sounded impossibly old.

"Okay, so these are definitely disappearances that shouldn't be happening. Now to get back to the point: What is it that you wanted us to do about it? Investigate? Protect others while they investigate? Go to the area and pretend to be 8 years old and wait to see if what happened to them happens to us?"

[Zweanslord]

Having totally won the staring contest, which was as clear as a sunny day, with Eoru shaking his head and paying him little attention, Gregory seems amused. At least, until Eoru starts talking.

"Mutually haunted?!" He lets out loudly, despite his whispering tone. Looking at Eoru with an open mouth in surprise, he even seemed to stop breathing.

Which he hadn't even been doing early, but dismissing that small detail, Gregory then said: "Tell me more!" Which was already after Eoru had said they should continue the conversation later. Only now realising that, Gregory added: "Oh, right, right. Hm, good idea. I don't think we're being that rude, though. It's not like we already entered the tent."

Gregory then looks around him. "Oh."

"So we did!" It's difficult to tell if he realised just then or already earlier, but nontheless, Gregory seems thoughtful as he looked upon the Judge. "Heya!" He said, throwing up a hand in greeting.

Whatever useful (or useless) information Gregory might have had or wanting to share is lost as he's distracted by an object of extreme importance.

"Ooh! Snacks!" Gregory says as he flies over to the flat bowls with nuts, dried fruit and berries. "Those are for sharing, right?"

[Volthawk]

Dex thinks this over for a few moments.
"Hm...found any links between the cases, or does it seem to be random?"

[Matar]

Husan continues Dex's line of questioning, starting with the most basic of questions. "What were their names? Who were the last people to have seen them?"

[Togo]

Bol puts his head into his hands with an audible clank.

I went for this job because I didn't want another gig pretending to be a kid. I tell you, if I'm going to end up wearing pigtails and pink streamers again, this time I'm going to want a disguise allowance.

He looks up again.

Of course, if you can't find a link or pattern, that means there isn't much point in lying in wait.

He frowns.

And that also means that, assuming you're not just jumping at gho- ah...

He gives a worried glance towards to the spectre that appears to be haunting the buffet table.

... at shadows, and there is something in these disappearances, then doesn't that make it more likely that someone or something is trying to... hide their tracks?

[Eldan]

The Judge smiles
"Oh, nothing like that, don't worry. If I needed bait, I would have more than enough children. I run that orphanage. I want you to find those children. And the rest of those people who vanished."
He fishes a large nut out of a bowl and chews it.
"Please, take whatever you want, the snacks are for everyone. There wasn't much of a pattern, sadly. Or, at least, none that I could find. People were stolen out of their own locked houses, mostly while they were alone and sleeping. Or in the case of the orphans, sleeping in rooms full of other orphans.
I certainly want you to investigate, I can give you a list of all the disappearances I could find out about. But there is another lead. I am a bit of a diviner myself, and I have made a prophecy. It is, sadly, incredibly vague."

[Zweanslord]

As Gregory was given the okay, he moves his hand towards the bowl and very precisely places two fingers on a nut. With obvious effort and narrowed eyes full of concentration, he is somehow, despite his ghostly nature, able to very slowly lift up the nut. His hand seems to tense of the exertion, of the intense focus to bring his incorporeal will to the corporeal world and move the nut upwards, towards his face. His ghostly muscles seem to do all their work just to get the nut up towards his mouth, where he throws it in. For a few seconds, he seems to chew on it with great effort, though as anybody can see through his translucent being, he isn't able to crack the nut open.

Still, Gregory seems satisfied, even when he moves forward and the nut remains at the same location, hovering in the air, unable to stick around in Gregory due to his ghostly nature. While "eaten" by Gregory, it doesn't seem any worse for wear as it hovers there, even gravity having no pull on it as there is no subject to have subjective gravity with.

Then, he grabs the bowl of nuts, dried fruits and nuts with ease and brings it with his hand towards the other people gathered, starting with Husan. "Care for a snack?" He asks several as he offers the snacks, the ease with which he lifts the bowl a stark contrast with his earlier effort to get the nut up, which is still hovering in the air.

Meanwhile, he asks: "Ooh, a prophecy. Are we in it?"

[whoiam]

Psalacantha watches Gregory with a certain amount of curiosity as he starts interacting with the food. She'd never really considered how an insubstantial being would eat before... and by the end of it, she's actually more confused on the matter than she had been at the start.

While he was going around the table, she voiced some of her questions. "You don't appear to have had any effect on the nut. Is this because you were just pretending to eat to put us at our ease? Just tasting it? Eating the inside and leaving the shell? Or is there some kind of little nut soul inside them that you can eat without damaging the physical object?"

Of course, it's hard to talk about eating without feeling your hunger, at least a little, so while she was speaking Psalcantha extended the claws on her right hand and accepted a pair of Gregory's Nuts. It took her a few moments of rolling the nuts around in her hand to strip the shell off - it's quite easy when you're using something closer to razors than to fingers to do the rolling - and she popped the first nut straight in her mouth once she was finished speaking.

[Zweanslord]

"Hm, what now?" Gregory looks up with a mild look of confusion and surprise on his face, his ghostly eyes meeting Psalacantha's. "Eating nut souls? Haha, funny one. No, no, I ate the nut. What do you mean I didn't have any effect?" He looks mildly confused, but directed his eye to the floating nut when he noticed some looks were drawn there. "Huh! Seems like somebody doesn't want to be eaten here!" And seeing as Psalacantha took her snack, he hovers over to the nut again, opening his mouth wide and closing it as it envelops the nut. Moving along to the next to give some snacks, once more, he leaves behind a nut hovering in the air, unharmed.

[Eldan]

"Are you in it? No. Or at least, I doubt it. These things come in badly mangled symbols, not words. If you ever hear a prophecy in words, it was because the oracle was babbling while seeing the symbols, and someone else wrote it down.
In any case, here's what I had: First, there were a few short scenes, you often get that. These are usually mostly symbols, to set a scene. A lock that changed into a key and back. A doorway, with a curtain hanging in it, that lead into a cave. A ruined castle, built entirely from green gems, at the bottom of a lake.
Then a longer scene, I assume it was the main clue. There was a dark hall, that seemed to stretch forever into the darkness. It was ancient and dusty. In the middle, there was a throne of marble, the back shattered. Chained to the throne was a skeleton, with a crown on its head.
Behind the throne, a gigantic shape sat in the darkness. Big as a house. Thin strands of that darkness were moving about, grabbing parts of the skeleton, so that it moved, like a marionette.
The skeleton was handing a bag of gold to a small figure that stood opposite from it, in the shadows.."

[Matar]

Husan scratches his ear, a completely pointless gesture. He then looks to Gregory.

"So, any idea what that means?"

[Zweanslord]

"Why, certainly!" Gregory speaks aloud at Husan's question.

"It's crystal clear we have to break in, or rather you, I'll just float throug, in the castle! There the ruler of these lands is being puppeteered by the butler, as the butler is always the one who did it, I think it's a giant butler in this case. We'll shake out the skeletons in his closet, find his dark secrets in the dungeons, who I suspect he dressed up nicely with curtains, where we'll likely find the captives! And it's a halfling, don't trust the little guys, who kidnapped them all and got paid by said ruler!" Happy with his explanation, Gregory looked confident of what he had just said. But how convincing is his story to the others?

Let's find out! Bluff: [roll0].

[whoiam]

Sense Motive: [roll0]

That fanciful story drew a rather pained expression from Psalacantha. Young and Naive as she was, even she could see it was just being spun up out of whole cloth. "That sounds... almost exactly nothing like what's actually happening. Please tell me that was intended as a joke..."

[Niezck]

Despite listening intently to the prophecy, Baraz looks entirely unimpressed by Gregory's story. Sighing, he fiddles with a partially transparent, silver wing on a loose chain around his neck. Taking the thin base between his thumb and forefinger, he twirls it back and forth as he thinks.

"Certainly an interesting prophecy... Perhaps something to be figured out along the way, though, rather than attempted to be deciphered sat around doing nothing."

[huyneo]

Hearing Gregory's story, Eoru couldn't help but chuckle softly at Gregory's antics. Reaching forward through Greogry's chest, Eoru takes a few pieces of dried fruit to quietly munch on. While the prophecy itself made little sense to him, it was to go without saying that diviners never give a straight answer.

"While the prophecy can figured out later, we should, at the very least, try to get started on our assignment. I don't believe the honorable Judge would have hired us if he didn't know where to start looking for these missing orphans."

[Togo]

Bolgrim nods in agreement as he reaches over to the nuts, takes a few in one armoured glove, and squeezes, producing irregular cracking sounds. He then looks blankly at the crushed nuts, before sticking his other hand under his arm and easing off the guantlet so he can eat.

Somewhere a short person is being paid by someone who in turn controlled by someone else, in connection with these disappearances. Apart from dropping the chances of this being something simple like a predatory animal down to nearly zero, I don't think it gets us anywhere.

Well, we could look out for short people, or undead people, but most of us probably do that anyway.

[Zweanslord]

Happy to see others take some of the offered food as well, Gregory looked with dismay at Psalacantha. His face was shocked, surprised, perturbed. "Why, I'd never!" He exclaimed, his follow up lie even less believable than the one before that.

"You're welcome!" He offered a tad sarcastic, though playful, to Eoru has he grabbed his bit of food right through his phantom body.

Gregory frowned as he looked at Bolgrim. So they should find a skeleton, if things were taken literally? "Well, if that's what you're looking for, you found one, but I don't think Husan has anything to do with this, though. Right, buddy?" He said as he looked at Husan with a grin.

[Matar]

Husan nods his head while listening to Gregory. He doesn't say anything when Gregory talks to him, instead choosing to grin and shake his head.

He does, however, speak up to ask another question.

"Do we know anything about the children missing? Possible strange behavior? Strange activities around where they live?

[Eldan]

The judge chews and then thinks for a few seconds, before replying.
"They all lived in my orphanage, as I already mentioned. And no, they were not exceptional in any way I could see. I can show you the orphanage, if you want. And give you a list of missing people. At least those I heard about. I'm sure there's many more that are just gone with no one to miss them."

[Zweanslord]

Gregory grinned at Husan, after which he paid attention to the judge. "The orphanage and the list sound like a good place to start as any!" He suggests as he floats about. "Unless we have other ideas? I would love to hear them!" Gregory looks at each and every one present, looking almost eager to hear any wicked plans they might have.

[Togo]

Bol has taken off his heavy gauntlets, and is examining a date from the bowl.

It's a good place to start. But while we're here...

How many children are we talking about? They're not just stealing from you, but from other people as well, so this potentially a big operation. Judging from the number of disappearances, how much in the way of space and resources would you need to take care of that many children? Not good care, necessarily, but enough for them to survive?

And then there's the... other alternative. I can't imagine corpse disposal is easy, in a place like this? Which means that they're either being stored locally, or consumed locally, or shipped out. That all takes space, and contacts, and officials willing to turn a blind eye.

But yeah, let's start at the orphanage. See if we can work out how the disappearing trick is done, and who they're aiming for.

[Eldan]

The judge smiles and stands up, discreetly pocketing a few more of the snacks, before putting two silver florin down on the table. He floats to the door at a rapid pace, nodding to the serving staff as he leaves.
"One reason I chose this places is that my Orphanage is nearby. And it is relatively clean and safe, of course."
He floats around a few corners ahead of you. There are obstacles to avoid, and he concentrates on his flying, instead of talking. The mist limits your vision to perhaps thirty feet ahead of you, before everything vanishes behind a rainbow-coloured blur. Someone has built a market stall between two buildings by simply stretching an old fishing net across what must be one of the busier passages and then hanging bags of fruit and not-quite-rotten fish from it. Already, there are a dozen people standing around it, some dragging canvas-wrapped bales of goods or small carts, all shouting at the owner to free the way.
A group of perhaps a dozen emerald-skinned, scarred, tattooed Nathri, has assembled in a vaguely spherical shape in the middle of an open square, holding spears and scowling at all passers-by from beneath feathered braids and tattooted brows. In the middle, two leaders seem to be conducting a trade of some kind, and there is the shouting, posturing and waving of weapons that makes up the largest part of any Nathri negotiaton.
Five men, obviously paid thugs, some of which must have ogre blood judging from their bulging muscles, are "escorting" a family out of a building, while next to them a pale, broad-faced man with what appear to be blueish flames instead of hair leans against a wall, grinning.
The flight takes perhaps ten minutes of complicated maneuvering, until you arrive at the orphanage. It is wedged in between two other buildings that must once have been warehouses, judging by their walls made from actual bridge. The orphanage is a surprisingly sturdy construction itself, those few walls necessary to fill gaps between the other two buildings made from sturdy planks likely liberated from a ship.
The door itself, too, is made from planks that must be over an inch thick. In the middle, a square of brass perhaps a foot on each side is set into the wood. The judge places a hand on the metal and makes a quick gesture, tapping different points of it with his fingers. The panel glides aside, revealing a complicated structure of steel cogs and springs. He inserts a tiny, but complicated looking key and turns it twice, and the door opens.
"Marvellous lock", he comments. "It was donated by a local clockmaker. A retired guild engineer, from what I hear."

[Zweanslord]

Gregory followed the Judge and where he has to concentrate on flying, Gregory seems to put hardly any effort in the endeavour, but that may be because he just flies through any obstacles they pass. With a chipper attitude, he moves along with the group and tries to get some small conversation going with the various members, talking about how they ought to be careful for the fish net, what lovely shouting everybody is doing, those funny Nathri over there, how cool those flames (on somebody's head) are, some funny architectural bendings and look at that guy's clothes!

When they finally arrive and the Judge opens the overly complex lock, Gregory has floated towards it, moving in the wall and from above the lock, out of the wall, his head is sticking out, looking at the lock going "Oooh!" of interest and curiosity. For a moment, the head moves down through the look, and one of his eyes seem to peer out of the intrinsicate keyhole. "That's complicated!"

[Togo]

Bolgrim stares at the lock.

Recessed contacts, clock code tumblers, plus recurved spring resistance so you can't just use the the pick and horn method. And this...

He glances up and down the street.

...Is pretty exposed for someone to take that thing half apart to work out the torsions. Either our man is very very good, or they're getting in some other way.

He glances at the thick walls, and then scowls at the building to either side.

[Volthawk]

Dex doesn't take much interest in the lock. It's a good one, sure, and if he was in a different mindset he'd be more appeciative, but at the moment the priority is the job. "How's your security other than the lock?"

[Eldan]

The judge shrugs.
"Stone walls. A rarity in these parts, and I paid a small fortune in donations and favours for it. But honestly, if you have a collection of twenty orphans in these parts, you want it to be secure."
Behind the door is a room that must be as large as the Pillowsphere. But where the sphere was round, this room is wedged in between walls that stand at odd angles to one another, the effect reinforced by partitions of made from woolen blankets hanging in frames of salvaged wood and metal debris. There are hammocks, perhaps two dozen, along the walls, and nets securing various personal belongings.
It is surprisingly bright, too, for a location in the Aether. A large fire, burning in a cage of metal mesh in the middle of the room banishes the mists to the edges of the room. A good dozen children, ranging from perhaps four to twelve years old are in the room. Slightly more than half are busy chasing each other around the fire and screaming, while the other half has secured themselves to one wall with leather strips. An elderly hobgoblin woman, with papery yellow-grey skin, a white braid reaching down to her knees and two curved, boar-like fangs is reading to them from a book.

[Zweanslord]

Floating through the wall, Gregory showed just how futile security was to a ghost. Seeing all the children, Gregory smiled and happily floated over towards the fire where the kids were chasing another. With his translucent appearance, his ghostly being, his behaviour was unlike the scary stories as he eagerly waved his hand at the children and let out a chipper: "Hello there!"

[huyneo]

The combination of stone walls and an elderly figure brought back Eoru to the calmer parts of his childhood. Obviously, it wasn't the same as he awkwardly floated through the air to watch Gregory's antics in a better viewpoint. He also floated up to listen to the old woman's tale, since none of the children appeared to be listening. When it was suitable to interject, he asked the woman.

"I'm sure you know who we are. And I'm sorry for coming to you like this and bluntly asking you questions, but it's important that we know so we can help. Is there anything can you tell me about the children who were kidnapped?"

[Matar]

"I'm sure you know who we are. And I'm sorry for coming to you like this and bluntly asking you questions, but it's important that we know so we can help. Is there anything can you tell me about the children who were kidnapped?"

Husan adds on to Eoru's question. He hoped with the entirety of his unbeating heart that it would help get him some useful information.

"Have the children mentioned seeing any strangers around?" He pauses for a moment. Perfect stillness. "Was there any sign of outside tampering on the houses the children were kidnapped at? If not, it seems likely that we're looking at a case of possession. Or at the very least, someone is tricking the kids to leave on there own."

He then looks to the judge. "Can you trust everyone in this room?"

[Togo]

Bol's eyes follow the contours of the room, looking for windows, apertures, and some way for the smoke to get out.

[Niezck]

Baraz floats along with the others with the grace and ease he'd shown previously, clearly used to unusual gravity environments. As the group approaches the orphanage and the Judge opens the lock, he muses quietly to himself about how commonplace such security is back home.

He seems taken aback when stepping into the orphanage and seeing the poverty of the place. The holy man simply stands in place, glancing around the room and taking it all in while the rest of the group explore and question.

[Eldan]

There doesn't seem to be any kind of exit for the smoke, or way in for air, though you notice that the fire barely smokes at all.
As a ghost floats in through the door, several of the children shriek and float away towards the walls. The hobgoblin jumps up, dropping her book, and blue-white energy crackles around her hands as she assumes a fighting stance.
"Group one! Hide! Group two! Wedge behind me!", she calls out, as the children mostly fly around in panic.
The judge sighs.
"He's a guest. Not here to drive anyone insane."
The woman relaxes out of her fighting stance and begins shouting at the children to stop acting stupidly.
"Let's go on to my... offfice."
The judge leads you through the main room to a small chamber behind a wooden hatch. Scrolls and pieces of paper are floating along the walls, seemingly just piled agains them and left to drift. In the middle is a writing desk, or rather, a slab of wood three feet square with an inkwell and quill chained to them. Against one wall is a bed with a leather belt to tie someone to it so he doesn't drift on his sleep, and two chests are nailed to either side of the door.
"I can't complain about the woman, really. She volunteered, and she once broke the arms of three thugs who came by to demand protection money. But I have my hands full just keeping her from turning half the kids into students of the Iron Soul.
Anyway, no. I couldn't find any similarity between the kids. And no strangers. Or at least, not more than usual, here in Waketown, and none that seemed overly suspicious. Let's see. They vanished on three different nights. Akshar was the first. He had orcish, or maybe ogre blood. Six years old and taller than kids twice his age. His parents were Retrievers that never returned from the war. Moll was dropped at our door. The girl was clearly born out in the Aether. Grey hair, grey skin, colourful eyes, thin as a twig. Halvar was the bastard of a Caligan maid and a Bellaminan sailor that was dropped off here when his mother couldn't take him.
And, hmm. Let me find that list of the other people."

[Zweanslord]

Gregory laughs at the reaction of the hobgoblin, a contrast to the reaction at the kids, where his face stirred a short expression of sadness beforehand. "I'm not?" Gregory asks after the Judge states he isn't here to drive anoyone insane. Then, with a grin, he adds. "Oh, wait, that's right, I'm not! Apologies!" Offering the apology in an amused manner, Gregory looks at the children, after which he looks back at the hobgoblin lady, where he can't help but laugh at her reaction, talking like that to the children.

Rather swiftly, he drifts over to one of the children, floating besides the kid and gently moving his ghostly hands to touch the shoulders while lacking any sensation fo touch. As he speaks up, he looks at the hobgoblin lady with a grin. "Perhaps they aren't so stupid?" Continuing to keep the grin on his face, even as he might have scared the child quite a bit more, he then breezes off again, through the wall (because why take doors?) and winding up in the Judge's office.

As he listens to the Judge speak, Gregory seems mildly distracted. Sure, they were here for the job and all, but since the Judge was not able to see a link between the children, Gregory sincerely doubted he could find one. So, instead, he was floating in parallel with the floor/wall/ceiling and a few inches off it, almost as he was floating over a stream of water on his back. As he drifted, he moved through the chests, to see what was in them. Not that he could actually see anything really, as it would probably be dark in there!

[Matar]

Husan watches Gregory swoop around for a moment. He spoke up when he know else was asking any questions.

"How often are the children vanishing?"

[Eldan]

"How often? Oh, maybe two weeks ago, for the first. That was Halvar. I thought he had run away to become a sailor or a pirate, he had spoken of it often enough. Had this elaborate fantasy of his father being a famous pirate captain by now, who would make him his first officer. He was around ten, so someone would have taken him as a ship's boy, maybe.
But then Moll, five days after that. Wasn't the type to run away, she rarely ever left her alcove. I might have believed Akshar running away, but three's a pattern. That was the day before yesterday."
He finds a piece of paper and hands it over.
"As many people as I could find that went lost in the last three weeks. Maybe two dozen, I'm sure there's more no one's found out yet, or no one's talking about.""



Irlye Luiph, Deadwater gang enforcer, Flowstone
Viper Eldenroth, serpent acolyte, Splintershard
Kimo Otani, Nathri scout/tracker, homeless
Threpolrak Wavronal, ragpicker, Leftbridge
Eston Dyle, fence, Leftbridge
Ineach Taimortin, hired thug/killer, Bridgehead
Uskrod Blacktooth, tailor, Bridgehead
Nyang Dung Mgo Gyu'i, child, Newshard
Asan Lexoto, madman, the Spike
Simeon Hatech, mechanic, Redshard
Clantina Quasabel, witch/healer/herbalist/midwife, Wreckhome
Oldormild Usturnest, peddler, Stonemarket
Orem Ves'lora, thief, Stonemarket
[...]

[Niezck]

Looking over the list, Baraz notices something. Thinking a moment to clarify his thoughts somewhat, he speaks up.

"Got a map of the city? And any idea of the chronological order of these? Might get some kind of pattern if we look where people have disappeared from and when."

[Togo]

Bol glances over the list

No more than two from any one location, moving around... Did these children have... any particular skills?