The Re-Quest

You find yourself standing in front of a weatherworn inn. Your feet, clad in leather boots, are weary from your long journey. Adjusting your cloak, you shoulder your bow and push against the wooden door. You pause a moment, allowing your eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior before squaring your shoulders and confidently striding inside.

Mismatched chairs and grimy tables are filled with customers lifting frothy pints to eager lips. Barmaids whisk from one table to another with platters of steaming meat and potatoes. You spot an empty chair and are about to rest your weary body when a shimmering wisp materializes in front of you.

“WoooOooOoooo! I’m the ghost of Christmas Paaaaassst!”

You find yourself bunching your eyebrows in confusion and rest a comforting hand on the dagger at your waist.

“Gerald!” a wench scolds, rolling her eyes. Her thick cockney accent drips with frustration. “’Avent I told ya million times ya ain’t no Chris’mas ghostie? Yer jest a normal ‘aunt.”

Gerald smacks a willowy hand against his almost invisible head and groans. You’re about to turn away from the drama when Gerald’s icy cold touch stops you.

“YoooOoooOOoo!!” the ghost moans. “I have a specific message for the new ranger.”

You feel an eagerness niggle at your soul, squelching your exhaustion. You nod, encouraging Gerald to continue.

"A group of adventurers seek a ranger to help procure the Azure Stone of the Indigo Wizard but cannot accomplish this quest without yooOoooOoooooo.”

You thoughtfully rub your stubbled chin, wondering how this unknown group of adventurers knew to seek you out. How did they know you would be at this inn instead of the one the next town over? The message seems suspicious and yet, you are intrigued.

“A quest, eh?” you finally say.

“More a ‘request’,” Gerald says with a shrug. “These particular travelers have quested for this stone before. Their last ranger kicked the bucket, so to speak. Met the sharp end of a dragon. Not enough XP, they said, to conquer the beast. So they are requesting. They heard about your exploits and want you.”

You raise an eyebrow and Gerald, remembering himself, throws in a wailing moan. He points a translucent finger toward a table, hidden in a shadowy corner. Your eyes narrow as you take in the motley crew. You note an obvious elf with flowing locks and pointed ears, sipping from a teacup. A dwarf, beard tucked into his trousers, is gnawing on a turkey leg. A woman idly strums a lute and a hobbit, half hidden behind the bard, fiddles with a silver earring.

You take a deep breath. Your boots hit the wooden floor with determination as you walk across the dining room and stop at the table of adventurers.

“Who’re you!” snarls the dwarf.

The bard places a delicate hand on the dwarf’s elbow. A strange energy seems to zip between the two and you wonder if, perhaps, their backstory involves some kind of romance.

“This is the ranger we sent word to,” the bard reminds him. Her voice has a musical lilt to it.

“When did we do that?” the dwarf growls, eyeing you with distrust.

“Oh, about two minutes after he walked through the door,” the hobbit interjects, tucking the earring into a pouch around his neck. “I would say now is the perfect time for introductions, wouldn’t you?”

The elf kicks out an extra chair and you cautiously lower yourself to the seat.

“My name is Melampus Wanderfoot but my friends call me Mel. These are my comrades.” Mel sweeps a hand toward the dwarf. “Throk Bluntshield is our loveable but crabby barbarian fighter. Distrustful at first, but loyal unto death by journey’s end.”

Throk tosses the bone of his turkey leg to a stout mutt lying across the room, swipes a hand across his greasy mouth, and nods. “Aye, tis true. And this is me beloved bride, Harmony. Her music can enchant the wildest of beasts.” Throk winks at her and Harmony giggles and blushes.

You nod to each and turn your attention to the last member of your new team. The elf grins. “I’m Bob.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, Bob,” you manage to say, coughing back a laugh. “Throk, Mel, Harmony. My name is—”

“We know who you are, boy,” Throk scowls. “And we’re wasting precious time on these ridiculous introductions.”

Harmony pulls at his sleeve. “Throk, you’re being rude again.”

The dwarf rolls his eyes. “Sorry, my dove.” He glowers your direction. “You’ve obviously come to accept our request for a request,” Throk says. “To help us find the most precious gemstone in the world.”

“But first,” Mel interrupts. “We’ve got to get our XP up to snuff. Right Gerald?”

You startle as Gerald appears next to you. “Is Gerald part of our team?” you ask.

Bob tosses back flaxen locks. “Gerald was our last ranger. He’s the only one that knows where the Azure Stone is located. But he can’t pick it up because, y’know.” He gestures at the ghost’s transparent form. “Otherwise we’d send him off alone to fetch it.”

Before you have a chance to respond, the village idiot stumbles into the inn.

“I’ve lost me marbles!” he shouts. “I’ll give five gold coins to him who can find’em.” He looks expectantly your direction. You sigh and stand.

“Looks like we have our first opportunity for XP,” you say.

In response, Throk jumps to his feet and yanks out a warhammer. Harmony hums a note beside him. Mel pats the pouch at his neck, then furtively glances at you, while Bob’s grin grows wider as he swings a quiver of arrows onto his back. You almost forget about Gerald until he moans in your ear. You and your team hold your pose, allowing the patrons of the inn to acknowledge how very awesome you are, before following the idiot out to the street to find his marbles.

“It begins,” you mumble and Gerald groans in agreement.



WoooOOoooOOOooooo! ▼

998 words
Written for: The Writer's Cramp
Prompt: Upon entering a haunted inn, the main character is greeted by a ghost. The ghost gives the character a very specific message along with a request. Bold or colorize the message and request. Paranormal as a genre.

This story idea was inspired by my D&D lovin' husband