Goosebumps appeared on my bare forearms as I sipped my tea. The beverage warmed my belly while the honey and hint of lemon reminded me of home. My parents disliked milk in their tea. Instead, every morning my mother would brew a pot of black Darjeeling leaves with a healthy spoon of local honey and a couple of slices of lemon. The juice and rind would steep in the hot water, adding their flavour to the mix. Nostalgia wasn’t the source of my goosebumps, though.

Almost an entire week had passed since we left Grog’s Table. Hrurk’s brorc mount helped us boil tea for our drinks and prepare hot meals, but after things got a bit tense, we hadn't enjoyed anything warm to eat for the past three days. Instead, we’d survived off cold water and jerky. The much-needed comfort didn’t spawn the goosebumps either.

It was our company. I managed to maintain a polite smile at the little circular tea table and maintained a composed demeanour. However, Hruk’s cup rattled on his saucer as he held it up to his mouth. I couldn’t tell whether he’d submitted himself to the hot beverage or needed the fine china to hide the terrified look on his face.

“You’ll burn your lips, young hobgob,” our host said, pushing the plate of teacakes at us. “I might’ve died two centuries ago, but I can still tell when the tea is still too hot.”

“Oh, he’s alright, love,” I told her with a smile, accepting a walnut topped slice. “My dear Hruk is probably in surprise since he’s never met a banshee as beautiful as you before.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me love or darling!” The banshee exclaimed, her pitch rising enough to make all the crockery shake. She cleared her throat and straightened her cup. “Apologies. It’s been a while since I’ve entertained the living. The name’s Liv and I will not be called anything else.”

“You have my sincere apologies, Liv,” I said, bowing my head. “Old habits die hard. I’m afraid the decorum my mother and master beat into me faded after my time in Grog’s Table.”

“That’s right. The goblins are a rough lot, aren’t they, Perry.” Liv turned her snow-white face towards Hruk, making him stiffen further. “I don’t mean any offence, of course, Hruk. You’re by far the most well-mannered member of the greenfolk I’ve ever met.”

Hruk and Liv sat on either side of me. Meanwhile, two seemingly empty chairs stood between them. We knew better though, since a cup floated over each of them and their contents steadily decreased. Our two spectral hosts didn’t talk and appeared bodiless too. However, an odd uncomfortable feeling—Spirit Sense probably—told me they were there. When my elbow accidentally passed through the space, one of them occupied, a chill had run down my spine and my teeth had chattered uncontrollably for ten seconds.

“I appreciate that you let us organise and throw this little tea party before talking business, Perry,” Liv continued. “You do not know how long it’s been since we met a living entity that could hear more than screeching from me. Sometimes, I just want to have a conversation and get news regarding the news of the world. But people see me and either try to exorcize me or run.” Liv sighed, shaking her head. “This is just pleasant. It gives me an excuse to pull out the good china, brew leaves out of my enchanted jar, and bake!” She smacked the air to her right, and it sounded like she had struck something solid. “When was the last time I baked?” She laughed, but neither Hruk nor I heard anything. “Did you manage to get some sleep while I was cooking?”

“No,” Hruk whispered before taking a large gulp of the scalding tea.

“I slept like a baby!” I exclaimed, hoping our hosts hadn’t heard him. “Your beds are more comfortable than anything I’ve felt since my arrival on Arena Disk.”

“Ah, yes. You mentioned you’re a champion.” Liv lowered her voice, leaning close to me. The ambient temperature dropped further, and it was a struggle not to scramble away. “Did I mention that I had a tryst with a champion while still mortal?” I shook my head instead of speaking. My voice would likely waiver, giving away my discomfort. “He was a half-elf. Tall. Wide-shoulders. A beautiful jaw line. The list goes on. I don’t know whatever happened to him.”

“Well, given your beauty, Liv, I’m not surprised the champion fell for this castle’s lady.”

“Oh, silly! I wasn’t the lady of this castle.” When she grinned, her luscious lips cracked, and the surrounding skin threatened to shatter too. Black teeth sat beyond them, adding to the horror. The dark circles around her eyes appeared to blend into the black sclera. I made a mental note of not making her smile as such again. “We’re what’s left of the service staff. After we were all slaughtered, the lord and lady’s kin came by and took their bodies away for proper burial rights. They didn’t give a damn about us, of course. I used to be a scullery maid.” She nodded at the two poltergeists. “These two lads used to work in the stables.”

“You have my sympathies.” I said, glancing at Hruk. Hearing Liv’s little tale appeared to have eased his discomfort, too. “If you’d like, Hruk and I can find your remains and bury them somewhere nice once we’re out of here.”

“It’s kind of you to offer, Perry, my dear, but that’s unnecessary. We’ve long gotten used to our existence and enjoy it. Its rare for us to get desirable company and scaring away the undesirables keeps us busy and entertained.” One of the poltergeists moved too quickly and the contents of his cup sloshed, spilling the contents on the table and some teacakes. “Look what you’ve done, Gregor!” Liv tutted, rushing to separate the wet cakes from the rest. “You’ve got to be more careful.”

I used the opportunity to fire off Analyse at Liv and her companions.

Banshee

Banshees aren’t born or created. Instead, like most spectres, they’re ripped into existence when a wailing or screaming woman dies a horrid, painful death.

Unless the remains are burned or respectfully disposed, the banshee will continue to haunt her place of death. Their sonic attacks can rip ear drums and plant themselves in a target’s memories, plaguing their nightmares.

Shamans and necromancers may gain spells and abilities to command them. Meanwhile, priests of certain faiths might earn effective exorcism spells to banish them. It’s a shame only a handful realise banshees have lonely existences and crave company and friendship. Treat one with respect and you may gain an eternal friend.

Poltergeist

Given enough time and boredom, restless spirits, bound to the disk due to forgotten remains, will gain the power to move objects and influence the world. Like most spectres, poltergeists are bound to their place of death and their remains. They’re mostly spawned from the spirits of children, teenagers, and mischievous folks.

Poltergeists are rarely malicious, but come across as such because of their love of pranks and tricks. Since they’re dead, they occasionally forget to draw a line and can cause serious damage.

Shamans and necromancers may gain spells and abilities to command them. Meanwhile, priests of certain faiths might earn effective exorcism spells to banish them. More often, poltergeists are found serving more powerful spectres and spirits.

It didn’t surprise me that banshees were misunderstood. Liv didn’t strike as much fear as one would expect. The poltergeists’ description didn’t give me any new information. It matched the spectres from Earthen lore and pop culture. I found the concept of malice on the subject rather amusing. The dead forgetting what can be harmful to the living made sense, too. They likely thought their tricks and pranks were funny and after years as a spectre forgot concepts such as pain and mortal injuries. I appreciated that Analyse provided impartial advice. The quantity of information appeared to increase as well.

Analyse has progressed to Apprentice Rank 0!

Loreseeker has progressed to Novice Rank 5!

“Now what is it you wanted to discuss,” Liv asked, turning her attention to me. She stood up from the table and the rays of moonlight entering the balcony finally struck her. They passed through the spectral woman, diffusing and making her glow. “You’ve been patient for long enough. We might as well discuss business since Gregor ruined the mood.”

I hopped off my chair and offered Liv my hand. She smiled once again, making the skin around her mouth crack. The banshee wrapped her arm around mine and let me lead her to the balcony’s edge.

“Do you see those fires underneath?” I asked, nodding at the settling campground just outside the old fort’s courtyard. Tall, colourful lizardfolk with one to three horns atop their head walked among the tents and fires, wearing rough leather armour, and carrying spears or axes. “That’s a kobold war band. They’ve been chasing us for three days. They pushed us off the path towards Eldar’s Plains and we lost our supplies. Hruk and I took shelter in your fort, hoping to ambush them while they hunted us through your halls, but they refuse to cross the walls.”

“The bloody skinks won’t just retreat either,” Hruk commented, keeping his eyes on the teacakes. “They know Banshee’s Fort has no other exit. They’re likely waiting for us to run out of here scared. Then they’ll kill us, claim our mounts’ hides, my arm, and then drag Perry away for their cooking fire.”

“What savages!” Liv exclaimed, pressing a hand to her barely covered spectral breasts. “I can’t have that. If you need my help fighting those monsters, we’re happy to oblige. Aren’t we, lads?”

Spoons floated off saucers and struck the cups, making a clinking sound. Before I could continue my bid for help, an arrow whizzed over my head. Then another shot through Liv. I ducked while she remained immobile.

“I don’t particularly want to get involved in a full-fledged battle,” I said. “A way around or under them to flee to the plains would be great though.” Another arrow whizzed at me, and Liv grabbed it a hair's width from my ear. “Sooner rather than later, preferably.”