["Don't come out of your room late at night. Don't be tricked by the voice you hear."]

    Baird had come to take a break from wilderness living, only to be given a warning by a gracious patron. The Brass Dragon, an inn so famed, seemed to have a particular form of infestation. Sadly the informant didn't elaborate on what it was that took to bothering the guests. The bartender refused to even acknowledge related questions. Most likely the business sought to hide this problem as to keep the money flowing. So, here the big boar sits, waiting. In the corner of the bar, in the dark, long after most others had gone to bed. The slits are often too blunt for others to notice in the pool of brown-black that are his eyes, but if any can glimpse them now, the lizardfolk blood that courses through him would be plain to see.
    
    Fortunately this isn't the very first time he had encountered a haunting. Yet what happened felt like so long ago that Baird simply can't recall details. The fright of the whole thing overtakes all else of that night, the visage of that moonlit phantom. This kin to that apparition was likely here, however. Funny, no matter how strong Baird gets, the thought of ghosts still sends his hooves shaking.

    Wait. There is something, a sound quietly cutting through the air. A muted murmur from above. The beastman clenched his eyes and said the words to the only spell that'd get him up: purpose. [Time to make the donuts.]

---

Dead Bards Society

Traveling to Capitol Landing was one of the last things that Ari would have chosen to do of her own accord. If it wasn't for rumors of strange hauntings, she would have turned the job aside just on it's locale. Hauntings were a peculiar subject, one that was heavily debated amongst many academics and religious leaders. Among those she worked with, she and one other were the most likely to be given such a task. They were already out on an extended research expedition of some kind, so it fell to the young mage to put aside her dread and help out. Taking a ship from the coast, she arrived in the city to it's sensory assault and almost immediately sought out a quiet corner of town to recover for a few moments.

As the emotions subsided, she asked an elderly lady tending her garden for directions to an inn of some renown known as The Brass Dragon. After a dizzying conversation, and Ari taking notes in hopes she wouldn't get lost in the maze of chaos that was the streets of Sol City, she set out. It took several hours, and more than one wrong turn before the Astralblood came upon the well worn yet well cared for tavern in question. Darkness had already taken hold, stars barely visible while trying to outshine the city's many mundane and magical lights. She did her best to enter inconspicuously, just another weary traveler looking for a meal and a bed... at least she hoped. She concealed as much of herself as possible beneath dark fabrics, only the barest hints of her face visible under a heavy hood. The crowd within was far from capacity, though it was still quite occupied for such a late hour.

One patron stood out, a large being with boar like features and many arms. Ari made a point to take her seat across from as many folks as possible, tucked into a corner so she might watch the room better for any signs of strangeness. Placing an order for a light beverage with the evening server, she settled in and pulled out a notebook containing what information she had been given. It contained statements from several patrons, and a single former employee who left after their encouter. She read over the details in an effort to discern any clues. As she was mulling over the various factors, peculiar faint sounds emanated from the ceiling above the tavern. Closing her notebook quitely, she sat back and watched the situation unfold with free hands and a readied array of magics.

    Baird used each arm to brace and stand himself upright. Then another faint passing of that distant voice, yet distinctly closer. The candles in the room steadily dimmed. Soon, everyone in the room was motionless. Something like a diorama became of the scene, fossilized in time by just enough ambiguity. No one knew what exactly to expect, so the scant few here each found their reason to await the next move.

    A spot in the ceiling began to form a soft glow. Slowly intensifying, a shape began to eek like a weightless ooze. Dripping down came the suddenly recognizable shape of a boot with a up-curled toe spring. A leg proceeded, clad in rolling waves of cloth. Then the other armored in greaves. A torso of rippling mixed fabrics held in shape by a riveted girdle. Arms of similar style, one hand gripping at a fanciful rapier. A gorget between flared shoulders. Finally, a pencil-mustached gentlemen's bust caps off the top. Amid his fanciful hat, an arrow disappears into its back. A foretelling justification as to why this haunting is happening. Without losing pace, the ghost holds his pose until stopping just shy of the floor.

    With voice of quiet command, "Satisfy my yearning heart, this one thing: Convince me of what I missed. Was it worth all I've done to seek beauty and glory in this world?"