Chasey was frozen in place. “Impaler!” she heard him gurgle again. There was a certain pleading in his voice. Her muscles finally let her move once more and she took off, running for the tavern. She glanced behind her several times, knowing she was being chased but seeing nothing following her. Her shaking fingers deftly opened the lock and in a matter of seconds she was inside, locking it and sliding the bar lock across the door, just in case.
“Impaler, Impaler,” she repeated to herself as she rummaged behind the bar for the ingredients. In her nervousness she knocked a bottle over and the contents began to spill across the counter. She ignored it and grabbed another bottle – it was only caveroot juice. She could collect more whenever she wanted, but they had several bottles in stock.
When Chasey was done mixing the brew, a light wisp of steam, or so it looked, rose from the tankard. She held if carefully and made her way to the door. Just as she was about to remove the bar she heard a loud knocking on the door. Chasey screamed in surprise, but rushed to open the door anyway. If it was Sturrin, and he was living death, the door would not hold against him. Maybe he came here for the Impaler.
Sliding the bar lock off and unlocking the door, she opened it to find the mysterious bard standing in the doorway. Her eyes were glazed over but a low dirge escaped from her dark pink lips.
“Within the creeping mist of lore
The plane of man will dwell
And travel forth from there to here
Its lifeless story tell
But when its told then there will be
An aftermath of sin
For dead shall walk and drink and talk
And let the Reaper in.”
The bard’s words ended and she backed into the shadows of the night, leaving Chasey alone. The young girl was terrified. Terrified and confused but she had a job to do if she was to save Sturrin’s life.
She rushed back to the water trough and once again did not expect what she saw. She noted to herself that she needed to stay away from this place. Stepping closer she noticed the body in the trough was no longer Sturrin’s. She had no idea where he went, but she had found the constable drowned in the water trough.
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