The Ghost Song RP Thread

[Ambaryerno]

Starting a general RP thread for those of us involved in the investigation into the ghostly singer plaguing the City.

Julia sat at the fire outside the Friendly Arm Inn, her lute in hand and absently picking out a bit of melodic nonsense as she considered the song of the apparition. It was so powerful. Mournful. Tragic. And growing stronger. The first time they visited the Fist camp not far from the girl's mother's house the song cold not be heard.

But not this time.

It was faint, barely discernible at the furthest extent of her hearing, but now it was there. She knew it was there.

It was spreading.

A shudder worked its way down her spine as thoughts of what she might have done under its influence had she been alone returned unbidden. A song so powerful it could drive its listeners to despair, made worse by Adelaide's news: The specter's mother refused to let her daughter's spirit pass on and rest, no matter the cost to anyone else.

Julia let a high, clear note ring out from her lute, letting it bend dramatically between tones, then slapped the fretboard in frustration.

The Fist hadn't offered a single bit of coin for the follow-up investigation, and she wasn't one for charity. If what she heard (or might have, had Grand Duke Belt not interrupted) at the Feast the night before was true, that came as no surprise. Of course the Fist wouldn't want the matter investigated too deeply. And for that, a part of Julia thought the City was getting what it deserved and she was prepared to wash her hands of the matter.

But then her thoughts returned to the song and its singer, and a smile came to her lips.

She resumed playing again, but this time with purpose. When she first encountered the song, when she was at the brink of despair, singing a song of her own countered the power of the ghostly voice. Barely, possibly as she was already shaken and unprepared as she was for the power of her words, but enough.

This was no spectral threat. This was merely a rival diva. She needed a new weapon, one she could hammer and forge herself. Here, at the camp fire.

All she needed was to out-sing a ghost.

[Ambaryerno]

Julia took a swig from her tankard, and thumped it down on the table.

The Friendly Arm was crowded that night, but she managed to find a quiet corner in the back. She reclined at ease, with her booted feet kicked up on another chair, and read over the note she recovered in the sewers again. A few adventurous sorts seeking for companionship for the night approached her, and she sent them on their way again with a wink, a smile, and a few veiled hints she had yet to decide whether she intended to follow-through on.

Instead, her eyes returned to the crumpled and folded note, still reeking somewhat of the sewer whence it came.

Clues in the sewers, it said. Julia took another drink as she considered Louis' written words. It was shorthand, a very simple cypher of the sort used by spies, but in this case a rather amateurish affair. Particularly in that it ended in the hands of the wayward daughter of a noble with illusions of adventure traipsing through the muck only to nearly bring herself and her paramour to a bad end at the hands of angry spirits.

She considered that with a frown. The pair had ventured into the sewers in hopes of finding the Singer, and the ghosts Julia and the party the Fist hired to search for her certainly resembled those gathering en masse at the home of the specter's mother. But this time they were much more violent, and Julia could not recall having heard her song. Loik had even observed that the shades their party saved the girl from seemed to have a particular argument with her.

Julia tipped her head back and drained the last of her ale, then folded up the note and tucked it back inside her doublet again. She let her feet drop to the floor with an audible thump, and levered herself upright again, before making her way across the packed common room. She slipped with grace between the press of bodies, and dodged the occasional groping hand (there would be time for that soon enough, once her business was done).

The note offered little more than the words on the page, but she did have one avenue to explore. A name she knew, and more to the point, a relationship she had witnessed budding at the Feast a few days before.

She arrived at the bar and flashed her most pleasant smile at the diminutive proprietor, before leaning on the counter top in such a manner as to offer him a rather unimpeded view down her blouse and doublet.

"Good evening, Master Mirrorshade," she said. "I was wondering if you might do me the courtesy of sending a message to a miss Adelaide. I would be very appreciative if you could tell her that Julia..." A smirk crossed her lips as she recalled the rather uptight Fist captain. "Julia la Belle had a need to speak with her, and that she can find me here."

She thumbed a few coins from her purse and slid them across the counter before straightening again, and turning to make her way towards the stairs. One of her would-be suitors — a tall and quite handsome man with a rugged scar next to his eye that only added to his rugged appeal — stood with his fellows near the stairwell with a tankard in hand. Their eyes locked as she approached, and without a word upon reaching him she relieved him of his tankard and downed it in one long swallow to his consternation and the howling laughter of his companions. Any word of protest over the appropriated drink died when she pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss, then led him by the shirt front up the stairs to the private rooms above.

[Glowfire]

The harbour district's streets always had that special smell to them. The locals claimed once you were in it for long enough, you got used to it. The breeze from the Chionthar was a mixed blessing. It blew around some unpleasant smells but sometimes, you could catch a pure tendril of air. Sometimes. Adelaide did not mind the smell so much, already growing used to it. It also reminded her of her childhood in Saerloon. Bittersweet memories. A fond one was watching the ships come and go, the merchants in all their finery pointing and shouting. There had been none of that in Daerlun, as the city did not lie by water. She found there was a different pace in every port city she had been to. People were always rushing. Unload, load, get the most out of the weather and avoid as many fees as possible.

After taking a walk around, she found herself at the water's edge with a low stone wall being the only barrier. Elbows were placed on it as she leaned forward, watching a fishing vessel slowly drift past. If only her own thoughts could drift like that. With ease and graceful. Instead they were all over, colliding. What was she trying to accomplish? What mattered the most? She tried to focus her mind on the things that bothered her.

Brilla's lover had ended the relationship. Under pressure from peers, perhaps. A scandal as she was a simple woman. So it had been said.

"The weather gets cold and 
the gifts less frequent."

Why. Had it been found out by then, or had the love faded from his side? The mother had thought there was foul play but Sunniva had only seen the girl. Waiting and in need. But no one came. And she leapt.

"If you come back. I will be forced to send you
 to the Bone Palace. And I do not want to do so."

And what was it with bringing the mother to the court, wanting her there? Adelaide recalled her at the house, levitating several feet above the ground. The Gray Seer, she had once been known as. Spirits gathering above their heads, thick as a stream. Yet she had not sent spirits after them. Instead, she had tried to protect and tell them to leave. But Adelaide recalled the three Flaming Fist they had recovered, killed by spirits. Had it been the mother's doing? The spirits deserved their rest. She remembered young Jero, with sadness. At least they had been able to make a difference there.

"A powerful force tethers her here. Love. 
Good luck beating that force, Sunite."

The fortune teller spoke of love binding, and love needing to be broken. Could it be a mother's love? Adelaide's thoughts was disturbed by the loud screeching sounds of several sea gulls who swept down on a fishing boat which unloaded what it had caught.

"First, trust no one..."

He wanted a title. With his sights on a duke's chair.

After a conversation with a merchant, Adelaide walked towards the Palace District to the shared room in the Helm and Cloak. There, she drew the longsword which she often used and sat down on the floor, in her short red dress, the cold blade resting against the skin of her thighs. Her eyes closed. Soft words left her lips, in Celestial. Her code.

She prayed about not when the blade should be used and against whom, but on strength not to use it. The blade was always the easy answer. But it did not mean it was the right one. Others gathered forces to strike but there would only be death that way.

Her eyes only opened when the door did.

[DM Hera]

((SEAL OF APPROVAL! LOVE IT))

[Glowfire]

The temple of Lathander was quiet in the late evening, most of the worship and prayers said in the daylight hours. Adelaide sat in the front pew, with a long shell necklace and a wooden symbol of Lathander in her hands. The symbol was the kind lay people would wear, simple but it had been blessed by a priest. As Adelaide's fingers felt every shell on the necklace, her thoughts wandered.

"I did not hear Her singing one note."

Did Julia trust her, or had Julia shared what she knew -if it had been all of it- in order for Adelaide to speak, and use it for her own gains? She had not spoken, and Julia knew there was lack of trust from her side. It could not be helped. Not in this, no matter how much it saddened Adelaide.

"Fortune, glory, excitement. 'Tis what life is."

It was for some, but not for Adelaide. She did not mind others seeking it, and Tymora would certainly approve. Yet, she needed to know that she could trust Julia to not give in to the temptation of gold or power. With the things going on, Adelaide had been increasingly looking around for people she knew would do the right thing. The right thing, as opposed to the selfish. She knew too, that others were looking for people to carry out their own goals. While she might be new to court games, she was not blind to the games occurring elsewhere.

"Light begets Light. Darkness begets darkness. 
If one dies with dark thoughts and reasons in mind, 
then that is where it would lead them."

The conversation with Sir Eldarian had been very enlightening and left many thoughts for reflection. Poor Brilla would need to atone before she was let into Lathander's realm. How could a spirit who could not be reached, who only sang, be able to atone? It made it more difficult to put Brilla's spirit to rest but Adelaide was in no place to question this, she knew it was so, had to be so. How people lived, even how they died, affected their afterlife.

"There are no games to play here."

He was right. Adelaide knew that she was not a lamb, and certainly no wolf. She was Sune's reflection on Toril, her champion. She was love, and punishment. There was no sense in trying to present it in any other way.

Rising from the pew, Adelaide approached the altar and knelt. Lathander's holy symbol was placed on the edge, to be picked up soon. Her fingers caressed each little shell again. The memories of childhood filled her mind. A sunny beach in Saerloon, when she was nine. Naked feet, running in the sand. An excited sound at each shell found. Her brother Bastian was there; happy, smiling. Not looking for shells but for strange creatures of the sea or flotsam. He had helped her thread up the shells. A sudden burst of pain in her heart made her part her lips and let out a small sound. Her eyes closed, allowing herself to feel the heartache, tears wetting her cheeks. It was born from love, thus not a thing to push aside.

"We are the seashells, Adelaide. 
We must be crushed under the waters 
and bashed against the waves constantly. 
We must be buried and choked under the sand."

Childhood only lasted for so long. The innocence of it, was lost sooner or later. Hope however, it could be lost but also gained again. With eyes opened, Adelaide placed the shell necklace on the altar, as an offering to Lathander. The symbolism, what it represented, was more valuable than its monetary one. Her right hand did not let go. Pausing. Then she began to undo the knot holding the necklace together, slipping off just a single shell.

"But in the end we must be beautiful 
for others, Lady Knight. We must show them 
that even something so delicate can breathe 
warmth and life in the most harsh of tides."

The knot was tied again, the shell necklace let go of. The small seashell she had taken, was put away in a pouch. Right hand reached for the symbol of Lathander, to clasp it, head lowered. Letting the tears dry by themselves. The necklace had been the only thing she had left from her childhood, in material possessions. She had been wearing it when they came, that was why. Adelaide had decided that it was a sign from Lathander. She was no longer that child on the beach, or the child bound in forced servitude, or the youth learning about faith. It was time to let go, to move forward. This was a new chapter. A new beginning.

"We must make them hope, 
for a rosy future is always possible."

Adelaide kept vigil through the night, in quiet murmured prayer.

[DM Hera]

Louis, a wolfish man with a thin sliver of a black mustache just above his lip, had glower about his face. He strode through the Palace district sniping rude comments at anyone who would glance his way. A thought on the mans mind lead him to a wealthy looking Jewelers shop.

--------------------------------

Else where...

The city watch bicker among themselves, arguing who will draw the nights duty at the east gate. Even the offer of a hire wage for the nights work seams to not motivate even the bravest. A fist fight even broke out between two guards, one breaking under the pressure of the Sad Song.

--------------------------------------

[Ambaryerno]

Julia made her rounds of the various shops and merchants between the Gate and the Friendly Arm, seeking for a lute of good quality for sale or trade. A smoldering smile, a flutter of her eyelids, or a teasing peak down her doublet would accompany her negotiations. After all, if she were to try to out-sing a ghost she would need to be at her best. (\\looking for a lute that has a + Performance skill bonus, is there anything like that on the server?)

She considered her words with Adelaide as she worked over the merchants. The Paladin was not precisely forthcoming on what she and Louis had spoken of at the Feast beyond confirming that he knew something more of the matter, and that just piqued her curiosity further. There was something down in the sewers that held his interest connected to the ghost, or at least so his note suggested. A part of her wondered if perhaps he was in collusion with Brilla's mother, and it was all some elaborate scheme; it would certainly make for a better tale.

Well, if the Paladin would not trust in her to fully confide what she knew, perhaps she ought to take matters into her own hands. A smirk worked its way to her lips. He seemed like such a lonely fellow, after all, and she could make for such pleasurable company when her mind was to it.

[Pommel]

Schink. Schink. Schink. The whetstone moved along the blade smoothly, a practiced motion.

Schink. Schink. Schink. The frost on the ground as cold as the steel of his blade.

Schink. Schink. Schink. Talas sat against one wall of the arena, looking out over the empty sand.

Schink. Schink. Schink. Thinking.

Schink. Schink. Schink. He only had simple answers.

Schink. Schink. Schink. He'd promised himself to wait while Adelaide and Sunniva found another way.

Schink. Schink. Schink. His way would be sharp.

Schink. Schink. Schink. Spirits might ignore the blade.

Schink. Schink. Schink.

Schink. Schink. Schink. But he knew, now, his anger could cut anything.

[Ambaryerno]

Julia makes the rounds of the inns, taverns, and alehouses of Baldur's Gate. Never the same one twice, never giving her right name, her hair dyed from her natural black, and in her lowest-cut dress to draw attention away from her face. She listens in on the conversations among the patrons, listening for any rumors pertaining to Brilla, Louis, and Annabee. Wherever the conversation drifts in that direction she would approach the speakers. She plies them with drinks, bats her lashes, and offers a smoldering smile or a tantalizing peak down her dress, while quietly inquiring as to the whereabouts of both Louis and Annabee.

[paw]

Herran wanders the palace district carrying a laced kerchief. He goes from merchant to merchant asking about Annabee, telling them she dropped it and that he would like to find her to return it.

Please tell her I can be found at the theater. he would smile to each negative reply. I am Herran Hymn ... director of the White Mask Theater.

I would also like to talk to her .. about a mutual friend ... one of whom I am trying to lure into the theaters troupe ... for she has the voice that one can never forget.

With that he would bow with a painful flourish, trying his best to hide the pain that still racked his body, and leave. Going on to the next merchant.

And while the Palace District would be where he starts, he would not forget to go to the other districts and even the stalls outside the gates should he not find her before.



*he would of course have Karl get the girls information/ address so that Herran could go talk to her as he no longer spends his time in the theater these days. Karl would know where .... and why*

[Tantive]

She stood back in the hallway. A dimly lit basement hall, with a musty smell. Cold cases came here to die Charisa thought, looking back to the room of the investigator's office she had just finished her business with. Yet the people involved in this tale didn't die.

"Dat one ghost looked like me cousin I swear." The words rang inside her mind from the vigilent farmer. It concerned her deeply that they were denied a rest after death, moreso the soldiers she had brought back. In how far the mother was connected to those deaths, her mind drifted. They were at the camp, they didn't pose a threat. They were but at watch. What would have driven her to attack, if she even did so?

"Spat a curse and moved on. I did not think it would be a real curse." Charisa heard from the investigator. The mother was powerful, it was undeniable. Charisa had felt the strength in her deceiving decrepit form afore, but spells? What if she did speak a curse out. To whom or what, did it have any form specific? Many questions yet lay on her mind.

She looked at the rolled note in her hand. Whoever it was the daughter was supposed to meet, they must be found. A mild anger twisted her face as she recalled the words spoken by the investigator."Not like you can arrest people for something they didnt do. They didnt push her." He was absolutely right, no law was broken, except perhaps one in the eyes of the gods. Taking your own life stood in violation to many deities, the very consequence of which the mother was is trying to guard the daughter from. No, there was aught else broken, the noble squandering their priveledge with no regard to responsibility. That must be rectified, that must be punished.

Charisa walked with purpose and in search for whom Brilla was waiting for. Within the Palace district she spent a good time in listen for rumour among the noble circles. In mingle of those circles, her ear peaked for scandals spoken within conversation of an inn, the snide remarks from ladies spoken from behind their fans. Who was involved with a commoner woman, such remarks should be easy to hear she believed. If she know who he was, she undoubtably could find out all about his Lineage too.

[paw]

Herran finally had a chance. A chance to talk to not only Annabee, but Brillas lover. The one who -supposedly- spurned her love, turned her away.

That was the furthest thing from the truth. Not only did he love her as deeply as any man could, he had arranged to meet with her ... to propose.

But courts being as courts are, there were rivals, jealousy, subterfuge. A letter was intercepted, a letter was forged, a broken hearted Brilla who now stood waiting at the -wrong- location, leapt to her own death. The song haunting the city was a song of despair, a song of love lost, a song of such beauty and pain. Her song.

There is no relief from this song, no relief from her grief and pain. There is no malice in her song, only her heart felt loneliness brought from love lost. Her own mother keeps her here. Does not allow her to find peace in the afterlife. It started as a mothers love for her daughter. A knowledge that her daughter who was a Lathanderite in life had taken her own life. A knowledge that her daughter, having done so would merely become a brick in the wall. It has become an insane infatuation. No doubt the cost of keeping her daughter and now a growing magnitude of other spirits from crossing into the after life.

Most of these spirits simply relive their last day of their life over and over and over again in an endless cycle. But some are becoming aware of their fate. An awareness that will soon drive them as insane as the mother, for they want t a release, they want to leave to the afterlife. They are trapped!

So where do we go from here? Herran queries upon their return. Some of the gypsy seers of the city have told us ways to contact Brilla, allow her to speak with us and not just sing her song. Even a rumor that she can be brought back to this life as a whole living person. Someone who can now join her love as if nothing bad had ever happened. The big question is ... do we need the grey seers cooperation? she is quite insane and only desires to destroy -everything- the entire city to become a haunted nightmare forever. We need a spirit shaman ... one willing to allow Brilla to posses her, so that we can discover her true thoughts and wishes. Time runs short. The mothers power seems to grow in leaps and the song grows stronger each night along with it.

Herran leans back in the bench and listens to the others speak in turn.

[Ambaryerno]

Julia lounged in one of the chairs, one leg draped over its arm as she danced her fingers along the fretboard of her lute, and picked out an aimless melody while Herran spoke.

"It seems to me the old woman is completely off her rocker," she said when he finished, and without looking away from her instrument. "Whether Brilla stands before her alive or as a disembodied voice I don't think we have any reason to believe her mother will abandon her grudge against the City."

She played a rapid run up the scale, and at the top let the pitch bend dramatically to its resolution. "Whatever is done about her, I think a means ought to be found to protect the City from the song itself. Else from what I saw the last time, we might have more folk dashing themselves on the paving stones."

A smirk crept to her lips as she started into another quiet, meandering passage on her lute. "Perhaps another singer in opposition? 'Twould be quite the grand stage, standing atop a tower for all of the Gate to hear, and there would never be a more melodious duel."

[paw]

Herran chuckles lightly I have done that now .... three times already. But my voice, while strong and so far effective, does not carry through the entire city the way hers does. her song grows in strength at each singing. Last time there were four of us walking the streets of the city countering her song with ours.

But something to bear in mind. If we can manage to allow the daughter a voice of her own. The mother would know it to be her and be willing to listen at least. If we can manage to bring the daughter to life! The mother would have to -kill- her when she destroys the city.

[Ambaryerno]

Julia quirked a grin as her fingers continued to dance. "Quite the optimist. I fear the woman I saw is quite beyond reason. Even should such a thing be accomplished I wonder if she would recognize her daughter even should she be standing before her."