Living Dead Bar [Harpy Inn] [Memory]

[Egaro]

Vhalar 31st, 718

What’s eerie, dreary, and grey all over? It’s simple: the Beneath, that’s what. Here in this unhallowed world, Egaro lived for nearly half a season, slowly losing himself to the isolation, the worry and fear. The only thing that kept him sane was the fact that other forlorn souls roamed the land of the dead, although he was petrified of the many doomed souls that had lost so much of themselves out at the lake.

Instead, he kept himself focused on the Inn, the Harpy Inn within Rharne that he had spent so much time in. It wasn’t the place he died, but it was peaceful - the few that died here or considered this place their anchors were obsessed with reenacting the lives they once had as alcoholics, but their souls hadn’t rotted to the point that he felt threatened by their presence.

Tonight, Egaro huddled over the bar in the quiet abyss. There was no bartender, nor drink. Filling bellies was a fantasy, imagined realities giving rise to a facsimile of what it was like, and those who couldn’t remember anymore simply knew they were once at ease here on this bar table, and so they sat, in a row bereft of fable.

He too fell to this game, staring at an empty mug standing upon the colorless wood, lost in his mind with this daily ritual. Tonight was a busy night for the ghosts - others had places to be, but there were regulars that spent most of their time here. It was easy to tell who didn’t belong, and Egaro saw something out of the corner of his eye, a being with far more rot to his visage. It was sitting next to him, and he could not tell if it was a woman or a man, as it was lithe and pale, with a rotted, crushed jaw..

The phantom saw him, and leaned closer. “They... eat... with their ignorance... the Echoes,” it whispered in a haunting, eerie tone from its throat.. “They know... not... what they are forgetting.”

Egaro’s ghostly hands gripped the table, his eyes darting back to the lost one now singling him out from the crowd. “Is that what I am, an Echo? What am I forgetting, my friend?” As he studied the other more and listened to the way it talked, he grew certain that it was a man.

“Life” came the sharp, hurried yet whispered response. “We all... forget... life.” The ghost reached into its ragged coat pocket and drew forth a blackened orb, deforming as it rolled the object around in its long-of-nail spindly fingers. He placed it on the table, smearing it back and forth on the cold hard wood until it grew thin and pasty like a rubbery putty bound to the surface. Egaro looked on in curiosity, but some part of him knew this object was dreadfully dangerous.

Instead, what happened made him feel as if he had a heartbeat again. Color began to sprout, spreading across the countertop. Detailed remembrance of the atmosphere began to play about in song and in smell, the musty air of a dusty bar throwing Egaro’s senses into an awestruck surprise. The empty mugs they once had were gone, instead replaced by a row of drinks, a faceless bartender behind the counter washing mugs and refilling old ones.

Many of the other souls were bewildered, but one came up from behind them both and reached over the phantom’s shoulder for the hexmark. “...Fool,” the elder ghost hissed, and a sharpened blade fashioned from his own incorporeal existence jutted from hiss arm and impaled the lesser ghost.

Egaro jumped off the stool to his feet and backpedaled away, torn free from the lavish illusion as he saw the rotting one turn and begin to feast on the dissipating remnants of the other spirit until they were but a trickle of fog fading away into the air around this place. “...You... killed him!” Egaro shouted, but nobody else seemed to care.

“...You shall... not speak... in defense of that which tries to steal. You... feel the hunger?” the ghost asked, lifting a mug and beginning to swallow down a comforting illusion as it dribbled down its coat, the many holes in the specter’s body making it a poor vessel for liquids.

It was true, he did feel the hunger, but he had never known how to act on it. Egaro knew so little of the world of the beneath, and he found it vexing that he had been shown an entire world that he could only have dreamed of in life, only to be cornered here where it was safe. He could not even explore the lake that comforted him, for the vastness of that place intimidated him together with the many lost, drowned souls who had met similar fates as he. “I do...” Egaro said, stilling himself as he stared on at the enchanting illusion.

“Then sit... and enjoy this... gift... with respect...” said the other ghost.

Figuring he had nothing better to do, but weary this phantom might turn on him, Egaro took a seat and set his hands out on the counter, staring at the shimmering liquid as he made idle conversation. “How long have you been... dead for?” he asked.

“Too long,” the ghost whispered, half-drinking another pint. “Are you going to... stare... at it all night? I am not... here forever.”

Egaro shrugged, picking up the mug with both hands - surprised that he could so easily. He knew it must not be real, but as he sipped the beverage, it filled his soul with renewed vigor as that refined taste burnt his senses. As he drank, his eyes grew heavy though they couldn’t cry. He set the mug down and put his hand over his face, whimpering as the taste of life connected with so many memories. The phantom beside him remained still and quiet, offering no comfort yet not pushing at him.

When Egaro came down, he sipped some more, and set the mug back down. “Thank you,” he said solemnly. “I know I’m dead, but I know so little of what that means. These illusions, defending myself. I feel like a child learning everything all over again.”

The phantom smirked, turning his head to look Egaro in the eyes. “All souls fester, and as our rot bubbles... up... we begin to do more with... ourselves... you can learn before that happens... for a price... I might show you...”

Egaro itched the back of his head, wracking his brain and finding his determination. “Eeeghr, I don’t own anything though.”

“It is not what you own... it is inevitably what you will do...” the ghost cooed hauntingly. “The man I am anchored to now... my son... he and his friends... murdered you...”

Egaro leered, biting his lips at the revelation. “Is that what this is? Why not kill me like you did that other ghost, then?” he asked, skeptical.

“Yes... you’ve done nothing... disrespectful... to me... but I left him... when he was young... he began to sail down... darker waters...” His long, sharp nails peeled at the oak to scrape up that Hexcore. The illusion retreated with its colors ripped away, the scents and sounds vanishing as the souls nearby rabbled and moaned at the loss of this soothing decadence.

The haunt leaned forward closer to Egaro, who held firm, still suspicious of this arrangement and entirely too weary - should he flee? No, he should ingratiate. It seemed only proper. “What do you want me to do?” Egaro asked.

“When my son comes to this bar... you will not avenge your death... you will not make him suffer... but you will do your best... to make him a kinder man...” the rotting one said.

It was a heavy request, but Egaro immediately nodded. It was something he could agree with morally. Though the man who drowned him had done so, he was simply unsettled by the thought of him. He did not want revenge. “You have a deal, then, mister...?” Egaro shot the other dead man a prying look.

“Shulk,” was the one-word response. “You must learn to Traverse... create a Vergeance... on the other side...” he said.

‘The world of the living? I can get back there?” Egaro asked, gripping the table with delight at the thought.

Mr. Shulk nodded. “You should be able... to feel... the membrane between... worlds... if you search for it... with your mind...” the phantom stated. “It is everywhere... yet only there... when you look... pull yourself... through...”

Puzzled, Egaro bit his lip and looked around, but then he shut his eyes, trying to find this place the man was talking about. As his furrowed his brow, he began to get an inkling, an instinctual idea that drew him towards it. Like a new muscle, it was rough and dim, but he found it, tapping on the barrier between worlds with his mind. “I think I have it. I just... go through it?” he asked.

“Yes... be warned it is... not easy,” said the other.

“I will try,” Egaro said, and he leaned forward, mentally feeling the stretchy walls open up around him, squeezing through that tight tunnel. It began to constrict, and it hurt in a way as it pinched and pulled at his incorporeal form. He felt like he was suffocating, that it was crushing him, but he pushed on in desperation, clawing through the inky blackness that he saw when he opened his eyes. Eventually he could see light at the end of the tunnel, and he renewed his struggles, exhausted, but not wishing to give in.

The light grew closer, and closer still. Almost there... the world of the living, it’s so close...! His hand clawed at the other side, reaching through it to pull himself through, and he slinked free of the beneath into the warm light of the busy tavern. Too exhausted to move, he stared up in delight at the twinkling lights and the many drifting figures. “I did it... I made it...” he said, breathing hard. “I just need a minute...” he shut his eyes and begin to rest to recover.

"Wow, this guy on the floor, he's all glowing and stuff!" rang a voice from the crowd.

Egaro opened his eyes, and picked himself up off the ground in a panic. They can see me? Pushing through the crowd, there were screams as his ghostly form caused a commotion, and he ran up the stairs, surprised that everything could affect him, and that he could be seen. His hands landed flat on the wooden door of a room he hoped was empty, and he pushed and pushed on it until he felt himself start to bleed through, Conveying his body on instinct and pulling himself through the other side. Once there, he sat on the bed, wondering just how he was going to get through this mess. To his relief, he was given time to rest and recuperate, the guests too unnerved to follow. The room didn't seem to have an occupant, either.

"What am I going to do?" he asked himself. "I'm going to scare everyone I see in the world of the living." It was that question he thought about for the rest of the night, praying to the Induk that he would find a way to remain undetected by the mortals in the world above.

[Abra]

Egaro1

Rewards

Knowledges:

Skill:

Materialization: Traversing is Dangerous
Materialization: Exhaustion from Traversing
Materialization: Traversing creates a Vergeance
Materialization: Conveying through a door
Syphon: Ghosts can be syphoned away until little remains
Hex: Ghosts can craft illusions to mimic life


Non-Skill
Vergeances
The Beneath
The Deal with Mr. Shulk

Loot:
Injuries:
Wealth:
Renown:

EXP:10

Feedback

I didn’t know about the beneath before reading this thread and I think you explained what it must be like to live there very well. I like how you handled the theme of not all ghosts being equal and there being a hierarchy of sorts. Also, like the last thread, good job on adding a sense of excitement when discovering new abilities. I do feel like the …s could have been replaced by saying the ghost spoke with long pauses, but that’s more of a preference I guess. Enjoy your rewards.