Ghost Story

[GamesMaster]

"That's fine, I have a shelf back here I can put it on for you."

The tavern is the best spot in town for lunch -- mainly because it's the only food-serving social place in town, though you could get a sandwich made at the butcher's and head to the parklands if you really wanted. Widow Smith is an elderly human woman sitting alone with a scone and a teacup, reading a tattered dime novel alone at her table in the sunshine.

[Varric]

Varric orders a meatpie- 'no, that charred one in the back of the oven please' -and a pitcher of fresh cider before heading over to the table in question. Stopping a polite few feet away, he clears his throat. "May I join you for some conversation, Missus Smith?"

[GamesMaster]

The woman looks him up and down before smiling. "Son, you can join me any time you like. And it's Widow Smith. For the record."

[Varric]

Danger. "I-- see." Varric carefully moves around to the opposite side of the table and sets his dishes down. "Varric Tethras, by the way."

[GamesMaster]

"I know who you are, Sonny boy. You bought the old Verburry estate."

[Varric]

"That I did," Varric agrees. "And that's almost the topic I was hoping to talk about. Rhea mentioned you'd be the one to ask for some of the local histories, especially about the old Verburry family."

[GamesMaster]

"Oh yes, I know all about the Verburrys. Sad story, that. Very sad. Poor Mrs Verburry."

[Varric]

"Poor Mrs Verburry?" Varric prompts as he cuts into his meatpie. Too little meat, but at least it's mostly tubers.

[GamesMaster]

"Indeed. Leandra Amell, she was born. Poor soul. Whole family up and died, including the babe. Very sad."

[Varric]

Varric pauses, then lets out a low whistle. "That would certainly explain the hauntings," he concedes. That much grief and death...

[GamesMaster]

"Oh yes. She was always carrying on about her poor daughter, what was the name... Mary Beth, I think it was. Very sad. Died in the Demon Plague of aught six. Poor soul. Then the son left, met his end afar. Poor Leandra would carry on about how he was the best child, and now he was gone. Went and took a potion, she did. Poor, addled woman. Never did take with potions and the like. Messing with what Astea created. Never ends well."

[Varric]

Beth. Alright, sources seems reasonably solid. "Potions? You mean a poison?"

[GamesMaster]

"No, no, a magic potion. Fertility, it promised her, and it delivered -- she carried twins, and all three died in childbirth. Didn't promise her a young woman's body to carry the babe with, no it did not."

[Varric]

Varric hisses softly. "No, no it didn't. Magic doesn't think; it does as it's told, what it's made to do. Nothing more, nothing less. What of the son? Carver?"

[GamesMaster]

She waves a hand. "I don't know. He left, and she lamented his passing, but I never heard what killed him. Probably magic related. The whole family had that curiosity, you know. That trust in magical things. It's deadly, it is."