Howard waves his hand in front of Trip's heads that are sticking out of your pack, Trip remains blissfully unaware of Sir Howard.
Search Posts
Oh, I say, that's quite flattering. Are you sure you'd want me along? I do tend to natter on a bit and you seem to be the only one of your fellows besides Azubah who can see me at the moment?
Oh, well! That's extraordinarily kind of you, of course, but to be honest I think I'll continue to follow friend Azubah around. He's deciding on a new direction and it sounds jolly exciting. He looks around a bit furtively. Plus, I've been a ghost so long I'm not sure I'd be all that welcome in the hereafter. Pharasma frowns on ghosts, you see.
Indeed! I was just considering the events of the past few hours. Most extraordinary, most extraordinary indeed!
Rameth, you see Sir Howard nodding approvingly at Azubah. I say, good show my boy.
Oh, I say, finally another living person to talk to. Sir Howard sweeps his hat off his head and bows deeply. Sir Howard, late of Oppara. How do you do?
I say, I say. Terrible when you find these ghastly things littering crypts. Still, not that surprising that the Nethysan...Nethysian? Damn, I just know I knew that description once. He looks over to Azubah and tilts his head. How do you describe Nethys' priests anyway?
You know you're bad off because you can see the ghostly outline of a man fighting the statue who says words you can hear. Oh, don't worry old chap. If you die you can become one of us! Sir Howard motions to Azubah and you see the outlines of many, many people behind Azubah. Aside from the high priest, we're awfully good company.
Of course! Tally ho! Sir Howard sails through bars and produces a fencing foil. You're dismayed to realize that it has a cork on the end, the same way you'd find it in an aristocrat's sporting society as opposed to a more rational weapon of war. I say, stop clouting that poor barbarian! He'll lose what smarts he has in his head! He expertly skewers the statue without seeming effect. Spot, attack him! The ghost of the hyena starts to tear at the statue's legs, likewise without benefit. He's on the ropes now lads, forward!
I didn't know cats got that big, did you? The hyena's ghost barks. Well, no it's not strictly a cat, I know. You could swear the hyena sighs at Sir Howard. Honestly I don't know why I talk to you.
Don't blame me! The hyena barks in the background. Yes, or him either!
Well that's reassuring. No matter if they have one head or three dogs are interested in the same things. He absently pats the head of the hyena. Oh, hush, I think your great-great-grandson is doing just fine. Although where he's keeping all those weapons is something I just don't understand. He sticks his head through the side of the privy seat and looks down. No, still dark. Why are you laughing? Azubah, you're beginning to think Sir Howard may not be all there.
I will say that's one thing I don't miss about being physical. Monsters leak a surprising amount of disgusting ichor, ooze and offal. Azubah, you see Sir Howard observing Rameth up and down. I will say the goo doesn't go with the hat.
I say, do you think he was talking about me? I mean, I didn't mean to not be dead. Although I also didn't mean to be dead. I always thought I'd be rich and famous enough to buy some of that elixir that keeps you young, you know from that desert country? The hyena's ghost following him barks loudly. Well of course I know that's silly now, but it seemed perfectly rational at the time. The hyena barks again. Oh what do you know, you're a dead animal. Honestly you're worse than that high priest, always droning on about the glories of Aroden this, Aroden that, and why isn't his great-great-grandson proselytizing more. The hyena whimpers in response to this. Yes, I wish he'd shut up too.
My how impressive. I'd heard of the cathedral here, I mean who hasn't, but you'd have thought that the temple wouldn't be quite this well kept. Azubah sees Howard's ghostly form floats along trying to read heiroglyphs on the walls. Although you know the carving's a bit bland, isn't it? "Praise be to Nethys the Wise, the giver of power and wonder." Why don't temples ever say anything interesting about their gods? I've often wondered whether they rate particular items highly, but you never see "Hail Nethys, creator of bubble baths and hater of broccoli!" on a temple do you? Down boy! At this last exclamation you see the ghost of a long-haired hyena similar to the ones you killed in the antechamber scratching at Howard's leg, obviously trying to get his attention.
I say, this is much more lively than the house. Although I thought there'd be more of a difference after time. Shouldn't there be magically propelled horseless carriages everywhere?
Brave Azubah ran away.
taking to his feet,
Azubah can be the Sir Robin of Golarion. Bravely bold Azubah
He was not in the least bit scared
His head smashed in
To Sumak: Oh it's a fine tune, written to celebrate the coronation of Sidney the Simple, a rather ineffectual king of Taldor. Truth to tell he was quite foolish, and it's widely believed he was cuckolded by his prime minister who is thought to be the real father of Sidney's son, Darius the Great. But we don't talk about that much because that would mean the dynasty is illegitimate and would cause a civil war, which would be dreadful.
You know, even though I have no clue what that is, the angry glowing eyes, two heads and worms crawling through the fur don't exactly scream missing pet to me.
Sir Howard hovers over Rameth and studies his attempts to unlock the chest. I say, if the chest is still here, and the bodies of people who lived here are still here, shouldn't the key still be here?
It was, really? How terrible. And that must have been quite painful, it's bad enough when someone starts pulling hair much less your whole neck.
I thought I heard - oh dear! One of your companions has turned south. Which one is he again? It's so hard to tell the living apart, even when they have such a nice hat. Is that a peacock feather? Sir Howard floats a bit away from your towards the south door.
Oh no, I'm fine I think. The other fellows who keep following you are a little unhappy. He looks sadly down at the remains of the skeletons. How sad, to be trapped at guard duty for an eternity. Poor chaps probably saved their whole lives for a decent burial for themselves and their families, no wonder they're walking unquiet.
Sir Howard's spectral finger taps Azubah on the shoulder. Um, not to trouble you chap, but did we ever agree on that signal?
Oh dear, they still can't see me? I was hoping they'd just gotten used to me. He cocks his head and looks at you intently. Good heavens, are you sure you can hear me?
Alert? Well I suppose I could try. How should I signal your attention in a way that doesn't alert the threats as well? Perhaps we should agree on a signal! He waves his ghostly hands above his head in a blur; no longer limited by a body his arms pass through his head. Oh dear, that was most unpleasant.
I say, this is the way to be buried. Not bones under a loose pile of sand in some courtyard. A proper coffin, plenty of solemnity. He sneezes. Bit dusty though, what? I think I'd insist on a good cleaning at least every ten years. Not long enough to have anyone bother you too often you understand, but enough so that the larger spiders don't cover up some of the scrollwork. He floats to the wall to examine the hieroglyphs in detail.
Well that's quite a question. I, in fact, can't see in the dark. Come to think of it how can I see at all, I don't have eyes. Sir Howard looks pensive, contemplating, apparently for the first time, an interesting contradiction of his unliving state.
Sir Howard looks dismayed at the fluids all over Albus and Azubah's morningstar I say, that's one disgusting creature. I hate things that spread fluids all over the place. He floats towards the corridor beyond the entry room. These crypts are always so terribly dark. Why can't they have light shafts, or magical light orbs?
Sir Howard scratches his head, or the ectoplasmic construct that is where his head would be, and looks pensive. I don't think so. Let me try. He bends over and tries to pick up a rock and fails. Then he tries to pick up a handful of sand and is unable to do so. Finally he holds up a grain of sand in triumph. I say, this is marvelous! Take that you smelly, necromantic beast! Howard flings the grain at the beast approaching to no obvious effect. That let him have what for, I'll tell you.
Oh, dear. Much as I dislike having a mind and no body, the other option may be worse.
Well, I thought I was but as you can see, he holds up one spectral hand with a broken manacle, something seems to have changed?
Well that's a bit of a how-do-you-do. Is there anything else you can see that they can't?
Oh, usually you see the odd porter or religious zealot wandering through. Never seen a group this large come through the gate however. -Posted with Wayfinder
Well, I wouldn't say they're not vigilant, at least they were in my day. Bit hard to patrol a whole city of undead though, wouldn't you say?
The spirit appears to be surprised that Azubah can see him and turns towards him. Good heavens! I haven't had anyone to converse with in ages. He peers at Azubah more closely, his eyes narrowing. Well, you don't look dead. He seems to ponder for a second. Oh, you must be one of those mediums I've heard about. A poor lad named Mustafa told me about one back in 3689. Well, it doesn't happen every day you know. He gestures towards the gates. But you'd be surprised how often things come through the Necropolis and through those gates.
Something appears in Azubah's peripheral vision. The specter of a man appears next to you, faintly transparent and hovering above the ground. His form is drapped in the tattered remains of a Taldan court outfit, with a waxed mustache and goatee and he has manacles dangling broken chains around his wrists and ankles. I say, it really is depressing to see the same scene day after day. Sooner or later you'd think they'd get through the gate, what? |