Hunting a Ghoul

Trystan kept his thoughts to himself while he and Ysolt ate in the dining hall with the rest of the initiates and acolytes of the gods. Thanks to the farming efforts of those who paid tribute to the goddess Maka, they were able to enjoy a savory beet and squash stew that included thick cubes of ham, roasted melons, apples, and pears, and a hearty pork pie, which several traveling priests took extra of to store away with their travel rations. He continued to keep his thoughts to himself the short two or three hours they spent resting in the communal dorms before their evening excursion. The time of rest was anything but restful for him. The wayfarer’s mind was swimming with how they were going to deal with the ghoul, why Nagil would allow such experimentation to begin with, for to defy death in such a manner disrupted the balance with life and nature, and how did he end up agreeing to deal with this mess?! He didn’t agree to deal with it. That manipulative priestess did. Was this seriously the chore she had in mind when offering him a free place to rest and feast? Honestly, he would have been content with mopping the halls, dusting the marble, or washing the windows! And nobody liked washing windows! Especially those Nagil wardens, probably because clean windows let in too much sunlight! That would totally disrupt the atmosphere of their creepy décor!

The storm had subsided by the time night fell, and left behind a fine mist of fog in the air. Ysolt helped Trystan prepare for their outing. She sharpened his sword while he inspected his arrows, though he doubted they’d be of much use against an undead. It was not until they had departed from the House of Priests and were making their way through the winding alleys of the city that the young man finally voiced his concerns.

“How are we expected to find a ghoul? Do you know how to dispose of such things? How are you an acolyte of Maka? I thought your ilk tended to the farms and diseased, not hunting the undead!” Trystan had rambled on in such a hushed yet hasty manner for several blocks before the priestess finally pulled him around a dark corner and covered his mouth with the palm of her hand. “Who said wayfarers be cold and silent?” Ysolt asked harshly before shushing him when he tried to respond. Cold and silent?! Silent, sure! He was trained to be stealthy so as not to startle or attract attention from the wildlife. But cold?! Who told this woman that trackers and scouts were cold?! Calculating, sure! Perceptive, definitely! Wait. He actually wasn’t being so quiet or perceptive in that moment, was he? Too much noise would attract unwanted civilian attention as much as possible ghoulish attention. Trystan’s shoulders sagged, and he gazed at the priestess with an apologetic expression.

She removed her hand from his lips and gave him a small smile of forgiveness. “Let Mistress Maka assist,” Ysolt suggested quietly before she clapped her hands together and started chanting to the goddess. She tapped her hands rhythmically as she continued her incantation, her feet eventually joining in a light padded tempo.

MAGIC DIFFICULTY – 10

 

Ysolt’s Magic Score: 3 + 2 + 4 = 9 – FAILED!

As the priestess continued with her meager ritual, Trystan kept an eye out for anyone who might find her act disturbing. There were few people out on the streets, chatting amongst themselves, supporting a drunken friend, or propositioning another who was looking to make an extra coin; no one dared to look down the alley where he and Ysolt had paused.

She did grow quiet after a while, and when the young man looked over his shoulder to make sure the dark-skinned woman was alright, she opened her eyes and nodded to him. “Mistress Maka declare you. You find ghoul,” the priestess said without apprehension as she patted Trystan square on the chest. His green eyes narrowed in frustration. This was a major city, not a forest or wooded glen. He looked back out onto the street, sprawling with people heading home, heading to the taverns, or with other agendas altogether.

“The warden said that rumors were spreading,” Trystan murmured as he tried to remember the conversation. “So, our best bet would be to figure out who heard what,” he determined, the young woman beside him nodding in agreement with his logic. “Start at taverns,” she suggested with a sly smile. “Drink loose tongues,” her raspy voice cackled, slapping her hand against the back of his shoulder before leaving the alley for the nearest tavern. The wayfarer feared this would get expensive.

SCOUTING DIFFICULTY – 12

 

Trystan’s Scouting Score: 6 + 4 + 1 = 11 – FAILED!

The duo’s endeavors to find the ghoul were fruitless. The priestess had managed to talk their way out of ordering or paying for any drinks, but the patrons at every tavern they visited did not or could not share any news about some shambling undead attacking anyone during the previous nights. In the end, they returned to the House of Priests tired. By the time the next meal was served in the dining hall, news was spreading about how a traveling priestess of Tyrnai had beheaded the creature and collected the reward. Ysolt could tell that Trystan was not pleased.