The Wilwarin Inn and Pub was unusually quiet tonight. There was a strong wind blowing in from the east, causing people to think again about leaving their homes. You could count the number of people in the Pub on two hands, and they were all the usual clientele. One elderly man was standing at the bar; the others were all sitting in the far corners of the Pub, largely because of the lit fire places that are around the tables in the back. Those fires and a few lights on the front of the bar were the only things lighting the room.

Outside on the on the windy street, around thirty meters away from the Inn, there was some commotion over something or another. It would seem (According to the murmur in the crowd that had gathered) that a Mercenary who was in town looking for work had been infuriated by a Ghost, who had since vanished completely. “Come on out and fight like a man, or as close to one as you can be, Ghost!” yelled the Mercenary, who was wielding a sword. “You know, you are a very angry man. I know a good Psychiatrist I will happily recommend you to.” Said a chirpy, even obnoxious voice behind the Mercenary. He spins around and looks behind him to reveal the location of the voice. He was sitting on top of a market stall which sold fruit. He leaped down from the top and stood in front of it, staring at the enraged Mercenary. He charged at the Ghost, yelling obscenities as he did so. The Mercenary simply ran right through the ghost and thus right through the fruit stall. The Spirit turned and stared at the man who had just charged at him, now covered from head to toe in broken Water Melon and other such things, rolls his eyes and walks away, the crowd separating to let him passed.

The front door of the Inn, which had apparently not been closed properly, blew open revealing the street beyond and allowing the gusty conditions to spill in to the warm Pub. At that moment, the Spirit walked passed the door. His tall frame span on the spot and peered inside the Pub. His long pinstripe coat blew in the wind slightly. The Owner of the Inn walked out from behind the Bar and approached the door but as he lifted his hand to close it the man from the street entered. He was not quite transparent but he had an eerie glow about him. As is the way in this land, these people have seen enough Ghosts to recognise one when they see it. The man acknowledges the Barman as he passes him with a polite nod of the head. He approaches the bar and stops in front of it with a curious smile on his face. The Barman pushed the door closed and walked back to the bar with a slight limp. He stood behind the bar simply staring at the Ghost in front of him for a minute.

“May I help you, sir?” asked the Barman in a gravelly voice. The Ghost stared back with a broad smile on his face. “Firstly, no need for formalities; Call me Samuel. And no, not at all! I do not want a drink, food or a place to sleep! I am here for absolutely, entirely, utterly and completely no reason whatsoever!” He replies in a bright manner. He turns around and walks, with unusually large strides and over-exuberant arms, to the other end of the Pub. He looks around at the people sitting at the tables. On the table nearest to him sat four people. None of them looked remotely interesting enough to talk to. He switches his glance to the other table, this with three people on it and still nothing worth note. Samuel sighs loudly and spins on the spot and, once more with unusually large strides, returns to the bar. He stops directly in front of the Barman, his smile returned. “Do you tend to get any Interesting clientele in this fine establishment?” he enquired.

“Interesting clientele?” asked Shiro, walking forward, “Well, depends on what you mean by interesting.”

The young man had been out on the streets of Lomedor, when the chilly winds and bad weather prompted him to enter into the much warmer Wilwarin Inn. He had arrived soon after the ghost, and just in time to watch the ghost walk around the inn, inspecting the crowd.

There weren’t much people in the inn tonight, noted Shiro, taking a quick look around. Possibly, the chilly weather had kept every sane person inside. Still, Shiro wondered where all the travelers like himself were. He couldn’t remember coming in here to not see the inn full of the oddest assortment of people, most of whom were travelers.

“If you’re looking for an interesting crowd, you might wanna check out that other pub,” he said, “The one on the bad side of town. I think it’s name was Drital Qu’ellar, or some other weird name. Usually, there’s a pretty interesting crowd here, but I guess they’re not around today. Wonder why.”

The wanderer pulled up a seat at a table nearest the fire, sitting in a relaxed position. He turned to the ghost.

“You know what,” he asked, “You’re probably the most interesting thing here right now. What brings you to this place? I know you don’t need to eat, or sleep either for that matter.”