Day 36, Spring of 514 A.V.
Such unpleasantness existed in the world and countless others. Nasty little things that crawled and scurried, or great and terrifying behemoths that cracked the ground with each giant step. Unpleasantness seeped from dank, dark corners, nestled ominously in ooze like puddles, waiting in hope to catch some poor fearful sap unawares. There were tales of beasts and creatures of menacing description that carried off naughty children in the night or jumped out with evil grins and cackling laughter.
Then there were thieves and brigands, unpleasant in their own way, stealing and stabbing towards a better lot in life, or dying in the process. Crooks with browning teeth framed in doorways down suspicious alleys, or sinister cloaked figures whose beady eyes could penetrate a soul at twenty paces. There were childhood bullies, unbearable wives, that annoying merchant who liked to rhyme everything he shouted to would be shoppers as they passed in the trade district. Tax collectors, over zealous Shinya, overbearing mother-in-laws. There were germs and poxes, causing crusty boils and sniveling noses. That cut on the roof of the mouth that took an age to heal.
So much unpleasantness. But for Sal Mander, nothing compared with one particularly spooky and unpleasant denizen of Mizahar.
The ghost.
He shivered despite the warm, the kind of shiver a dog exhibited after blissfully relieving itself. But there was nothing blissful about the thought of evil specters, swirling around and around with nothing better to do than linger and haunt in old, dusty houses. What business had the dead, clinging on to some morsel of an existence, only to frighten the pants off of poor unsuspecting passersby. Mooching about in the shadows with their secrets and whispers, vanishing here and appearing there, going where they pleased and armed with foul moods and depressing outlooks. "Horrid things", Sal said out loud to no one in particular.
Perhaps his resentment of ghouls was unjust. After all, he had never directly had a bad experience with them. Ghosts were not exactly lining the streets every day either, but you could see one now and then floating about with some evil intent no doubt. No, it was more to do with things Sal had read as a child. At a young impressionable age, stories of ghosts had left him with chilling nightmares. It had been an even longer while before he could sleep with the candles out. At a young age, such stories as he had foolishly read left a lasting impression. He had no right from experience's perspective to hate ghosts, but he just could not bring himself to think otherwise. They simply terrified him.
So, it was a rather unpleasant prospect when the Cosmos Center had sent him on an errand. A residential complex that the Center used for housing newcomers to the city had been receiving complaints, and as an investigator it was Sal's duty to get to the bottom of it. After all, what message did it send to new citizens if the Cosmos Center of Lhavit was sending would be tenants to less than desirable accommodation? It simply would not do.
The complaints had been a collection of muddled tales of banging noises and raised voices, though they had emitted from an apartment known to be vacant. Of course, at the prospect of uninvited guests, the apartment prefect had wisely alerted the Shinya to the situation. However, they had found nobody inside and no evidence of any recent tenancy. Quite the mystery it seemed. But Sal was no fool. He knew before he even arrived. Well, not so much knew, but had a tight knot in his stomach that grew from a seed of suspicion.
Arriving at the building, Sal stood and looked up at the skyglass reflecting the sunlight. He inwardly was pleased to be doing this during the day, as though perhaps daylight might keep any ghosts at bay. Perhaps he had read that they were afraid of the light, or perhaps his memory was throwing up false information as a means to coddle him. The building itself was not anything remarkable. Sure, it had the outer coating of majestic skyglass. But the novelty of that had the habit of wearing off when you had lived here your whole life. In any case, as buildings went, it was fairly standard for a residential complex. Three stories tall with wide arched windows, most of which sported boxed plants underneath that here had been well kept and watered, or there shriveled and forgotten, hanging limp and pathetic like some strange brown entities contemplating suicide from the edge of the window.
Sal wished he had Corvo with him, or perhaps a contingent of Shinya to lead the way. They would have known what to do in a situation like this, with their accusing glares and colored robes. What did Sal have, save for a longsword and a hobbyist's interest in reimancy? He doubted even the finest metal could cut a ghost in two, any more than what fire he could muster could burn one. The problems were perhaps a little premature though. First things first, he needed to ascertain the facts as best he could. Maybe there was not even a ghost here at all, and all this worrying was for nothing.
He could still hope he supposed.
Then there were thieves and brigands, unpleasant in their own way, stealing and stabbing towards a better lot in life, or dying in the process. Crooks with browning teeth framed in doorways down suspicious alleys, or sinister cloaked figures whose beady eyes could penetrate a soul at twenty paces. There were childhood bullies, unbearable wives, that annoying merchant who liked to rhyme everything he shouted to would be shoppers as they passed in the trade district. Tax collectors, over zealous Shinya, overbearing mother-in-laws. There were germs and poxes, causing crusty boils and sniveling noses. That cut on the roof of the mouth that took an age to heal.
So much unpleasantness. But for Sal Mander, nothing compared with one particularly spooky and unpleasant denizen of Mizahar.
The ghost.
He shivered despite the warm, the kind of shiver a dog exhibited after blissfully relieving itself. But there was nothing blissful about the thought of evil specters, swirling around and around with nothing better to do than linger and haunt in old, dusty houses. What business had the dead, clinging on to some morsel of an existence, only to frighten the pants off of poor unsuspecting passersby. Mooching about in the shadows with their secrets and whispers, vanishing here and appearing there, going where they pleased and armed with foul moods and depressing outlooks. "Horrid things", Sal said out loud to no one in particular.
Perhaps his resentment of ghouls was unjust. After all, he had never directly had a bad experience with them. Ghosts were not exactly lining the streets every day either, but you could see one now and then floating about with some evil intent no doubt. No, it was more to do with things Sal had read as a child. At a young impressionable age, stories of ghosts had left him with chilling nightmares. It had been an even longer while before he could sleep with the candles out. At a young age, such stories as he had foolishly read left a lasting impression. He had no right from experience's perspective to hate ghosts, but he just could not bring himself to think otherwise. They simply terrified him.
So, it was a rather unpleasant prospect when the Cosmos Center had sent him on an errand. A residential complex that the Center used for housing newcomers to the city had been receiving complaints, and as an investigator it was Sal's duty to get to the bottom of it. After all, what message did it send to new citizens if the Cosmos Center of Lhavit was sending would be tenants to less than desirable accommodation? It simply would not do.
The complaints had been a collection of muddled tales of banging noises and raised voices, though they had emitted from an apartment known to be vacant. Of course, at the prospect of uninvited guests, the apartment prefect had wisely alerted the Shinya to the situation. However, they had found nobody inside and no evidence of any recent tenancy. Quite the mystery it seemed. But Sal was no fool. He knew before he even arrived. Well, not so much knew, but had a tight knot in his stomach that grew from a seed of suspicion.
Arriving at the building, Sal stood and looked up at the skyglass reflecting the sunlight. He inwardly was pleased to be doing this during the day, as though perhaps daylight might keep any ghosts at bay. Perhaps he had read that they were afraid of the light, or perhaps his memory was throwing up false information as a means to coddle him. The building itself was not anything remarkable. Sure, it had the outer coating of majestic skyglass. But the novelty of that had the habit of wearing off when you had lived here your whole life. In any case, as buildings went, it was fairly standard for a residential complex. Three stories tall with wide arched windows, most of which sported boxed plants underneath that here had been well kept and watered, or there shriveled and forgotten, hanging limp and pathetic like some strange brown entities contemplating suicide from the edge of the window.
Sal wished he had Corvo with him, or perhaps a contingent of Shinya to lead the way. They would have known what to do in a situation like this, with their accusing glares and colored robes. What did Sal have, save for a longsword and a hobbyist's interest in reimancy? He doubted even the finest metal could cut a ghost in two, any more than what fire he could muster could burn one. The problems were perhaps a little premature though. First things first, he needed to ascertain the facts as best he could. Maybe there was not even a ghost here at all, and all this worrying was for nothing.
He could still hope he supposed.
