30 NPCs – The Hostel Ghost

The Hostel Ghost

VII

The road out of town has got a fork near the border wall, with a small, rusted sign guiding travelers towards a dark ashen building. No warm fire greets the road weary, although a pile of logs lay ready for use near the hearth. No feast, no ale, no roadside special is ready to fill the bellies, but in worn wicker baskets and tattered sacks, the materials for soup, rations, and supplies await. The beds are made but dusty. Vermin are scarce and out of sight. It’s cold, and there is always a sense of eyes upon those who enter.

The Hostel was once a booming business. Seasons ago it was the rest stop where merchants, adventurers, and low-profile ne’er-do-wells could grab a bite, slumber a few hours, and be ready for the road ahead. But the world turns, and things end. While sometimes violently, often it’s slow, gentle, with the seasons stretching to years to decades and in time, the candle goes out. Though those with long lives once stayed here, the caretakers did not have such blessing.

Their bodies passed.

But not, their spirit of hospitality.

They learned long ago that visitors were frightened of them. Despite their best interests, their once warm reputation grew cold, and few locals neared the once gentle watering hole. But adventures? Pilgrims? The inbound don’t know. The ghost seeks to accommodate, to tend, to help, to bring a sense of comfort and warmth to the lives they can still touch.

There’s little to manipulate here. The ghosts are set in their ways, and only care about continuing their business. Rewards will be granted to guests that help aid past injuries to the hostel. Terrors await those who are rude or destructive. They are resistant to encouragements of moving on.

In fantasy the old inn is haunted, ghosts with a quiet legacy. Unnerving but comforting.

In spacefaring days, it’s the old relic station with no crew. A ship full of automated voices offering relaxation but no human words.

In urban fantasy, it’s the odd listing on the rental site with strange reviews, an unbeatable and impossible view, and a price that draws one in. But after the visit, the record is gone, forever lost.

For some the fetters to the world are chains, locking their souls to self-inflicted horror and despair. For others, it’s to continue their life’s joys. Death is but a moment and the soul finds a way to continue the dream.