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Solivar
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re: [Open RP] Ghosts

Tranquillien, sitting high above the withered forests of the Ghostlands, is a haunted place.

Once one of the resort towns whose marble-walled villas served the holiday needs of the wealthy and powerful of the capital, it retains the merest vestiges of its former glories. Ravaged by the Scourge invasion and battered still further by its position as the front-line rallying point for the reclamation of Quel'Thalas, its comforts are few and far between, though still greater than those the Plaguelands can claim. If one listens closely, one can hear, in the hushed conversations and quiet laughter of its weary, hard-eyed defenders, the echoes of years past, of warm summer evenings in the pleasure-gardens of the noble-born, sunlit afternoon picnics on the sands of the Golden Strand, fireworks exploding high above the mirror of Lake Elrendar on festival nights.

Ghosts.

The ghosts of many things, bright and dark, painful and sweet, dwell here just beneath the surface. It will not take much to wake them.


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Jadedinsc
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re: [Open RP] Ghosts

Salih has grown accustomed to the sights, sounds, and smells in Tranquillen after being assigned here for so long. What he can never seem to reconcile in his mind, however, are the memories of Tranquillen before the Scourge and after. The real Tranquillen, one untouched by death and decay, was somehow taken away and still exists in a great void. He knows it's ridiculous, but this practice in imagination offers him some comfort. Perhaps it's because nothing is truly lost that way.

Breaking himself out of his reverie, he makes sure his guests have somewhat comfortable pallets. The Lynx here provide comfortable pelts for bedding material, especially after a thorough cleaning which several hunters have been more than willing to do. It's amazing how much attention to detail they'll pay when they learn it's their bodies that will be resting upon the furs they collect.

When the others have settled down, he collects a pack filled with bandages, salves, and poultices. The pack itself is a bit faded, but the red embroidery--embroidery a little too fancy for Salih's taste, an obvious sign the pack was a gift or loan--and colored designs on the front of the pouch are still quite obvious and it's easy to imagine what it might have looked like the day it was made. After rooting around in it, he sets out a fresh set of bandages lined with a bit of salve and then proceeds to remove the bandages on his right forearm. Starting just beneath his outer elbow and curving downward before stopping just before the inside of his wrist are four neat lines, a little jagged around the edges. The lines themselves are red welts now, having closed up while healing. The edges are turning pink, the first signs of the scars they will eventually become. The rest of the arm looks healthy at least; he notes this with a simple nod. The threat of infection has long passed, but still he likes to be sure.

"See, Jaleh," he mutters, "I can follow instruction."


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Solivar
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re: [Open RP] Ghosts

The Ghostlands night is long -- even in broad daylight, the sun never seems to pierce the gloom but at the very edge of the Elrendar's free-flowing stream, where running water cleanses away the lingering taint and bars it from encroaching any closer on Eversong. Down below on the streets of the village, the watch changes at midnight, the footsteps of weary soldiers taking to their beds at the inn where they're quartered echoing off the marble walls. Keldris does, indeed, snore, though he's restless in his sleep, making sounds that are not quite words, not quite waking again though his dreams do not appear to be comforting ones.

Sometime in the night, a new guest arrives at the inn. The gray Ghostlands dawn finds him crouched on his haunches next to the brazier, eyes closed but unsleeping, the staff resting across his thighs adorned in swirling carved patterns, wrapped in lengths of braided leather cord hung with carven fetishes in bone and stone and substances yet more exotic, matching the necklaces strung around his long throat. He waits, with the endless patience of one who lives with one foot in the world of the spirits, for those he has sought out to wake.


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Jadedinsc
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re: [Open RP] Ghosts

Salih has slept separately from the others simply because he has his own assigned area. Shortly before dawn he rises to go tend to his horse. There are hostlers and stablehands to feed and brush his horse, but Salih prefers to do this for himself. Back in Silvermoon he does the same for his Hawkstrider, Azura.

When that's done and he's washed up, he goes to where the party is resting to rouse them for breakfast. With a slight start, he pauses at the door upon seeing the stranger there. He clears his throat.

"Hail traveler. Are you seeking shelter or have you come in search of someone?"


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Solivar
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re: [Open RP] Ghosts

The troll's eyes, when they open, are storm cloud gray. "I have come because de spirits 'ave spoken. Insistently. Dey have called me here." A toothy smile. "Which is not say d'at I did not need a rest, nor d'at I was not lookin' for someone. Sometimes t'ings just work out d'at way."


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re: [Open RP] Ghosts

The corners of Salih's mouth twitch with amusement briefly before he smooths his face back into an expression of neutrality.

"I imagine there are many spirits here," he says as he moves over to poke at a brazier, stirring the coals to life to provide a little more life and hopefully to rouse the rest of the guests.


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