The Reaper pulls his hood over his eyes, his whiskers twitching in the steam that emanates from the engine. Shaking his head, he looks up at the bullywog and states, "If I am needed, I will go. Who will look after my charges?" He whistles sharply and a small band of shapes materialize out of the night. "Take care of my people until I return. You know who to inform and how to reach me. I am needed." As he boards the train he stops to kick the dust from his boots while checking his dagger. He turns to his conductor and smiles a toothy smile while producing a deck of cards. "Shall we have a game while we travel?"
“We may get on to a game directly, Sir, in the mean time, I’ll be off ta shovel us some coal.” He says, and as he speaks with a flourish of his hands, the bell turns to a violin, and the clipboard to the bow and he plays a few notes and hums off to himself. Once it seems he has found the notes he was looking for the violin drifts away from him, continuing to play.
he turns to the exit of the train car you are in and heads towards the engine leaving you, all alone, in a new space.
you can easily see this is a passenger car at a glance. The car is filled with rows of forward-facing cracked leather seats. Velvet curtains, once rich in color, hang faded. The Ghostlight Express lurches forward with two short blasts from the train’s whistle, followed by a screech of wheels that sounds like the shrill note of a violin, then the percussed chugging of the locomotive. Moments later, the view out the windows on either side of the car obscures. Shifting green smoke swims past the glass, completely veiling the realm beyond, as you find a seat.
"Welcome in, my friends, to the party that never ends!" Such is the earnest call to any who open the door to whatever bar or tavern or inn where Willem the Whistler is holding court! It matters little if the place is full to the brim or you are the first to arrive, Willem is there to entertain and make you welcome with a practiced ease and professional charm.
Willem the Whistler, or just Whistler as he prefers, can be a bit off putting at first glance, if you are one to be put off by appearances. Or reminders of death and mortality. Willem is after all a Relicborn - a skeleton looking species which hails from Kalero. If you know anything of Relicborn, or indeed of Kalero, then surely you know that such beings celebrate life and death with equal exuberance... Celebration, dance and music and stories and all exhibits of joy and festivity, are what the Relicborn live for. So to speak. So while the uninitiated may find themselves surprised or even shocked by the skeleton wearing colorful and fanciful formalwear and leading the room in song and merriment, you surely are much more worldly and accepting... Surely.
Currently Willem... Excuse me, Whistler... is holding court at a rather small and dilapidated crossroads tavern in the middle of nowhere. The only reason the place is able to stay in business is because it sits on the corner of "Getting out of here" and "Moving on to Something Better." Almost everyone travels those roads at one time or another and when they do they can't help but stop into the "Ramble On" for a bit of rest and perhaps a drink. There's a scattering of people in the joint tonight and all were happy enough to mind their own business and drink to their own private sorrows but they didn't know that Whistler would be stopping and and livening up the place. A couple, but certainly not most, heads turned and blinked when Whistler opened the door with a flourish and a "Ta Daaaaaa!" Those that did saw a scrawny skeleton wearing a raggedy with a patched top hat. Whistler hadn't performed in a while and that always leave him a bit the worse for wear... But soon he had cracked his joints and opened his bindle to draw out a shiny fiddle and bow...
Willem the Whistler is looking much better now. His top hat is like new, his tux impeccable and he himself is looking almost stout... It's been hours and hours since Willem arrived and began performing for the souls in the Ramble On Inn and a good time was had by all. Or so the patrons believe as they stumble out slowly, one by one, into the night. There are smiles on their faces and vague recollections of laughter and joy and frivolity... But they are all tired. So, so tired...
Willem the Whistler chuckles to himself inside the tavern and lights himself a cigar. He is feeling well sated and very content. The party may have ended but he knows there's another one to be had wherever he ends up next for people are always looking for a way to forget their troubles and loose themselves in the moment, even if just for a little while. Even if they know it's not good for them...
(Just wanted to give Reaper a moment if they would choose to interact with the new area, and if it seems like that’s not of particular interest, I can hurry along to the next Passenger?)
Reaper takes a moment to watch the fiddle player move towards the engine and examines the car. Finding nothing or no one of interest sits opposite the stairs and deals himself a hand of solitaire. As he turns the cards, he flips each card into the air where it boomerangs into either the discard pile or to land on the proper card pile.
As you entertain yourself with what you have with you, looking about this space absent-minded. You see the old and well kept interior is made to be comfortable, in some definitions of the word. You toss a card, and another, as you peer out of the windows into the mists that rush by. There are times when shapes solidify into something that you can only imagine to be a threat, if you were outside of this Locomotive. the mists swirl outside, almost beckoning to you, tempting you to-
“Just right there, friend.” Nearly startling you, A voice calls just over your opposite shoulder of the window, from the angle of how you sit, and a ”Tap-tap-tap” of a Fiddle bow against one of the stacks of card, as the Bullywug seems to have returned, and was watching your hand of cards. He sits a top the head height parallel bars used to steady oneself while standing in the car.
”I do apologize for the way I had left earlier, you see, the Ghostlight gets a little hungry from time ta time,” he let’s out a gentle chuckle, and a smile from behind his now sooty and blackened cheeks.
His form shifts to something like white smoke, while keeping his form, floating down to stand next to you, and fully materializing, without his fiddle and bow.
”My title for the time bein’ is Vagrant. Or, more or less, The Vagrant, and ya can call me such, an’ this here is the GhostLight Express. I keep ‘er runnin’, and it gets all them lost souls to and from where they be goin’.”
He pulls forth a pocket watch from someplace inside his vest and gives it a check before snapping it shut, and with a wink to you and a smile he turns from you to face the door. Just as he does, the train begins that familiar stopping process of gears clicking into place and the gentle metal screeching of brakes.
You at first feel the presence, and out of the corner of your eye, coming up the isle, unmistakably there is a humanoid shape. This shape however, is cool-blue, and nearly transparent.
as this figure approaches the Vagrant, more clarity comes, and while you can’t say you knew this female, but you get a sense of familiarity. This was a victim of the Nobleman you are seeking. She was his latest victim, in fact.
But she’s here?
The train comes to a complete stop, and she appears to be in queue to disembark the train. The door is slid open by Mister Vagrant, and he steps back. “Madam, this is your stop, if you’re ready.” He bows to her and removes his hat, and her expression seems less hesitant than you might expect, and does gracefully step off the train, and dematerialize into light blue smoke that is blown away in the wind.
”Never gets old; seeing a soul take its final rest. Now, Sir, if you might be so kind ta excuse me, our next guest plays a bit of fiddle, as well!” With what feels like joy from him, he flourishes his hands once more, and his fiddle appears. He then begins to play, and lean out of the train.
This movement guides your eyes to the scene around the Train. On your side, away from the door, swirling blackish green mists, highlighted by the lights of the Ghostlight itself. Where the door is, standing wide open, you see a night scene, almost as dark as the one you remember before you climbed aboard. In this darkness, you can see a dark tavern, with one person in it, that you wouldn’t be able to see if it weren’t for the flare of a fire source to light the cigar of the patron, but only for a moment.
—————Willem the Whistler—————
Whistler, today was a good day. As you watch everyone leave, one at a time, it felt like a candle flame was stolen by them as they left. One by one, all the candles went out and not but the lantern at your table was alight now, though nearing its end too, and you begin to hear the unmistakable sound of a fiddle. But this wasn’t a song. Not yet, no. More like a call and response, on repeat, waiting for the response.
it calls for you, Whistler. There is a feeling you recognize this tune, and it is at your fingertips should you decide to play back to the sound that seems to be coming from the main door of the building
Whistler leans back, takes a pull from his cigar and lets his head fall back for a moment to enjoy the satisfaction of a night well spent. Whistler is full and well rested and ready to move on... Which works out well as he hears a rather unmistakable sound rising on the wind from outside. A smile forms on his skeletal face, somehow, and he brings his clattering bones into an upright position before stretching them out in a languid symphony of click, clacks and pops. "Time to move on," he says to the empty tavern and takes a last look around before grabbing his bindle and tossing it over his shoulder.
"Always tip your waitress!" he calls out as he strides out the door, flipping a coin back behind him to land on the floor of the empty establishment as he moves on to bigger and better things, or so he hopes.
He is tempted to pull his fiddle out once more. What good is a call without a response? But he's not heading down to Georgia, at least not yet, an so there's no need to rosin' up his bow and accidentally put more at risk than need be. There is, after all, always more than one response... So leaving his fiddle packed away in his bindle, Willem instead lets his feat lead the way and walks blindly out into the night in the direction he believes the sound had come from. And when the fiddle calls out again Willem retorts with a whistled response and joins in the melody.
The Vagrant smiles to himself, “I should have guessed he would whistle.” Looking a little deflated at having missed an opportunity to play with another, though no less joyful, he makes his fiddle disappear and the bell reappears once more.
The vagrant waits for you to open the door, and as you do it’s like pulling your fingers from your ears and you can hear every sound of the locomotive now, like you entered its realm when clearly it has entered your domain.
The gentle hiss of steam and the sound of movement of a disengaged timing belt while the train sits at rest. A gentle clearing of the throat, followed by a softer Clang-clang of the handbell.
”Pleased to meet ya, Sir. I am the Vagrant, and this is the Ghostlight Express. I was sent out to collect you, and a few others. Ya see, the Druskenvalds them selves are in need of ya, in the land they govern.
Whaddaya say, friend? You would be rewarded handsomely, in the end, I was told.” as he speaks, he does come closer revealing the previous description of the fellow, to shake your hand, or lead you to the train
Reaper gathers his cards into a deck and with a practised hand, they disappear into the folds of his cloak. "They call me Reaper. You will meet with Vagrant momentarily. He seems to be the Conductor on this coach. You have a nice hat but it is missing something." With that he flicks his hand and a single card goes sailing out in an arc to wedge itself in between the tophat and the ribbon around it. Facing out is the tarot card Death.
(A bit of simultaneous posting going on... I'll take it as meeting Vagrant first then Reaper as it seems a bit more linearly correct...)
A skeletal hand raises up and lifts their top hat off their head in a sweeping, theatrical gesture which turns into a deep, deep bow. "I am honored to make your acquaintance," Willem then Whistler says with profound sincerity. "As you must know as you came to find me, I am Willem. Please, call me Whistler."
"I am needed, am I?" Willem asks rhetorically as he shakes The Vagrant's hand. "And I handsome reward, you say? Well then, if duty calls then duty shall be answered, shall it not? I think it shall!"
Allowing himself to be led onto the train, stealing glances and looks a plenty as he does, Willem soon finds himself face to face with Reaper. Willem is once again doffing his hat and bowling surprisingly low in introduction when the card comes flickering out of Reapers hand and flying through the air only to land perfectly tucked into the band at a jaunty angle.
"Aha!" Whistler calls out with appreciation in his voice. He quickly turns the hat so he can look at the card before he spins the hat and replaces it upon his head. "Both appropriate and appreciated!" Whistler declares and drops a wink to his new companion. How exactly a skull can wink is... difficult to describe. There is indeed shifting of the bone to narrow the gaping eye socket but could that just be a trick of the light? Or a trick of the mind? Or...
"I am Willem the Whistler, at your service... It seems we are being recruited for something. Any idea what?"
(Reaper did not see your exchange with Vagrant as the worthy seems to fade in and out with the mist) "Greetings, Whistler. I am as much in the dark for what we are being recruited as you are. Vagrant did mention we would be on the trail of my old foe and anything that stops his reign of death would suit me. I am therefore willing to do as I have many times and wait in the dark until dawn sheds light upon the situation. Since there are many seats yet unfilled, find your comfort or sit for a chat."
“The Druskenvalds“ He says, “ will explain everythin, when you do meet em, o’course” and as you do chat with this new acquaintance, you see they are the only one here. The only one to see you present yourself here is the Rat Kin and the Vagrant, however the ostentatiousness was not lost on the simple Bullywug as he clearly seems impressed with the way you hold yourself.
in the mention of “ dawn” the Vagrant adds, “Dawns gonna be a far cry from these lands, friends. Light has a hard time piercin though the veil of the in-betweens of life an’ death.” He offers a welcome and warm smile, “I do have a moment now, would ya like ta follow me ta the bar car, fellas?” He motions towards the door (to the east in the map), and starts to drift that way off of his feet, just at the train starts to lurch and chug against the forces of being stationary for a time, and moves forward gently, swirling that tavern you were just at into darkness
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(Side note, holy cow! I think that was my best intro I could do? What do you all think?
and we’re gonna pick everyone up one at a time basically.)
The Reaper pulls his hood over his eyes, his whiskers twitching in the steam that emanates from the engine. Shaking his head, he looks up at the bullywog and states, "If I am needed, I will go. Who will look after my charges?" He whistles sharply and a small band of shapes materialize out of the night. "Take care of my people until I return. You know who to inform and how to reach me. I am needed." As he boards the train he stops to kick the dust from his boots while checking his dagger. He turns to his conductor and smiles a toothy smile while producing a deck of cards. "Shall we have a game while we travel?"
Out of my mind, be back shortly.
You done good, son.
Out of my mind, be back shortly.
“We may get on to a game directly, Sir, in the mean time, I’ll be off ta shovel us some coal.” He says, and as he speaks with a flourish of his hands, the bell turns to a violin, and the clipboard to the bow and he plays a few notes and hums off to himself. Once it seems he has found the notes he was looking for the violin drifts away from him, continuing to play.
he turns to the exit of the train car you are in and heads towards the engine leaving you, all alone, in a new space.
you can easily see this is a passenger car at a glance. The car is filled with rows of forward-facing cracked leather seats. Velvet curtains, once rich in color, hang faded. The Ghostlight Express lurches forward with two short blasts from the train’s whistle, followed by a screech of wheels that sounds like the shrill note of a violin, then the percussed chugging of the locomotive. Moments later, the view out the windows on either side of the car obscures. Shifting green smoke swims past the glass, completely veiling the realm beyond, as you find a seat.
WOW!!!
That was a great intro.
D&D since 1984
"Welcome in, my friends, to the party that never ends!" Such is the earnest call to any who open the door to whatever bar or tavern or inn where Willem the Whistler is holding court! It matters little if the place is full to the brim or you are the first to arrive, Willem is there to entertain and make you welcome with a practiced ease and professional charm.
Willem the Whistler, or just Whistler as he prefers, can be a bit off putting at first glance, if you are one to be put off by appearances. Or reminders of death and mortality. Willem is after all a Relicborn - a skeleton looking species which hails from Kalero. If you know anything of Relicborn, or indeed of Kalero, then surely you know that such beings celebrate life and death with equal exuberance... Celebration, dance and music and stories and all exhibits of joy and festivity, are what the Relicborn live for. So to speak. So while the uninitiated may find themselves surprised or even shocked by the skeleton wearing colorful and fanciful formalwear and leading the room in song and merriment, you surely are much more worldly and accepting... Surely.
Currently Willem... Excuse me, Whistler... is holding court at a rather small and dilapidated crossroads tavern in the middle of nowhere. The only reason the place is able to stay in business is because it sits on the corner of "Getting out of here" and "Moving on to Something Better." Almost everyone travels those roads at one time or another and when they do they can't help but stop into the "Ramble On" for a bit of rest and perhaps a drink. There's a scattering of people in the joint tonight and all were happy enough to mind their own business and drink to their own private sorrows but they didn't know that Whistler would be stopping and and livening up the place. A couple, but certainly not most, heads turned and blinked when Whistler opened the door with a flourish and a "Ta Daaaaaa!" Those that did saw a scrawny skeleton wearing a raggedy with a patched top hat. Whistler hadn't performed in a while and that always leave him a bit the worse for wear... But soon he had cracked his joints and opened his bindle to draw out a shiny fiddle and bow...
Willem the Whistler is looking much better now. His top hat is like new, his tux impeccable and he himself is looking almost stout... It's been hours and hours since Willem arrived and began performing for the souls in the Ramble On Inn and a good time was had by all. Or so the patrons believe as they stumble out slowly, one by one, into the night. There are smiles on their faces and vague recollections of laughter and joy and frivolity... But they are all tired. So, so tired...
Willem the Whistler chuckles to himself inside the tavern and lights himself a cigar. He is feeling well sated and very content. The party may have ended but he knows there's another one to be had wherever he ends up next for people are always looking for a way to forget their troubles and loose themselves in the moment, even if just for a little while. Even if they know it's not good for them...
(Also given the nature of the campaign, I’m gonna waive the component costs for spells.)
I'm Enjoying the intro, looking like a wild ride.
(Just wanted to give Reaper a moment if they would choose to interact with the new area, and if it seems like that’s not of particular interest, I can hurry along to the next Passenger?)
Reaper takes a moment to watch the fiddle player move towards the engine and examines the car. Finding nothing or no one of interest sits opposite the stairs and deals himself a hand of solitaire. As he turns the cards, he flips each card into the air where it boomerangs into either the discard pile or to land on the proper card pile.
Out of my mind, be back shortly.
As you entertain yourself with what you have with you, looking about this space absent-minded. You see the old and well kept interior is made to be comfortable, in some definitions of the word. You toss a card, and another, as you peer out of the windows into the mists that rush by. There are times when shapes solidify into something that you can only imagine to be a threat, if you were outside of this Locomotive.
the mists swirl outside, almost beckoning to you, tempting you to-
“Just right there, friend.” Nearly startling you, A voice calls just over your opposite shoulder of the window, from the angle of how you sit, and a ”Tap-tap-tap” of a Fiddle bow against one of the stacks of card, as the Bullywug seems to have returned, and was watching your hand of cards. He sits a top the head height parallel bars used to steady oneself while standing in the car.
”I do apologize for the way I had left earlier, you see, the Ghostlight gets a little hungry from time ta time,” he let’s out a gentle chuckle, and a smile from behind his now sooty and blackened cheeks.
His form shifts to something like white smoke, while keeping his form, floating down to stand next to you, and fully materializing, without his fiddle and bow.
”My title for the time bein’ is Vagrant. Or, more or less, The Vagrant, and ya can call me such, an’ this here is the GhostLight Express.
I keep ‘er runnin’, and it gets all them lost souls to and from where they be goin’.”
He pulls forth a pocket watch from someplace inside his vest and gives it a check before snapping it shut, and with a wink to you and a smile he turns from you to face the door. Just as he does, the train begins that familiar stopping process of gears clicking into place and the gentle metal screeching of brakes.
Rattington, can you give us a perception check?
Perception check 22
Out of my mind, be back shortly.
You at first feel the presence, and out of the corner of your eye, coming up the isle, unmistakably there is a humanoid shape. This shape however, is cool-blue, and nearly transparent.
as this figure approaches the Vagrant, more clarity comes, and while you can’t say you knew this female, but you get a sense of familiarity. This was a victim of the Nobleman you are seeking. She was his latest victim, in fact.
But she’s here?
The train comes to a complete stop, and she appears to be in queue to disembark the train. The door is slid open by Mister Vagrant, and he steps back. “Madam, this is your stop, if you’re ready.” He bows to her and removes his hat, and her expression seems less hesitant than you might expect, and does gracefully step off the train, and dematerialize into light blue smoke that is blown away in the wind.
”Never gets old; seeing a soul take its final rest. Now, Sir, if you might be so kind ta excuse me, our next guest plays a bit of fiddle, as well!” With what feels like joy from him, he flourishes his hands once more, and his fiddle appears. He then begins to play, and lean out of the train.
This movement guides your eyes to the scene around the Train. On your side, away from the door, swirling blackish green mists, highlighted by the lights of the Ghostlight itself. Where the door is, standing wide open, you see a night scene, almost as dark as the one you remember before you climbed aboard. In this darkness, you can see a dark tavern, with one person in it, that you wouldn’t be able to see if it weren’t for the flare of a fire source to light the cigar of the patron, but only for a moment.
—————Willem the Whistler—————
Whistler, today was a good day. As you watch everyone leave, one at a time, it felt like a candle flame was stolen by them as they left. One by one, all the candles went out and not but the lantern at your table was alight now, though nearing its end too, and you begin to hear the unmistakable sound of a fiddle. But this wasn’t a song. Not yet, no. More like a call and response, on repeat, waiting for the response.
it calls for you, Whistler. There is a feeling you recognize this tune, and it is at your fingertips should you decide to play back to the sound that seems to be coming from the main door of the building
Whistler leans back, takes a pull from his cigar and lets his head fall back for a moment to enjoy the satisfaction of a night well spent. Whistler is full and well rested and ready to move on... Which works out well as he hears a rather unmistakable sound rising on the wind from outside. A smile forms on his skeletal face, somehow, and he brings his clattering bones into an upright position before stretching them out in a languid symphony of click, clacks and pops. "Time to move on," he says to the empty tavern and takes a last look around before grabbing his bindle and tossing it over his shoulder.
"Always tip your waitress!" he calls out as he strides out the door, flipping a coin back behind him to land on the floor of the empty establishment as he moves on to bigger and better things, or so he hopes.
He is tempted to pull his fiddle out once more. What good is a call without a response? But he's not heading down to Georgia, at least not yet, an so there's no need to rosin' up his bow and accidentally put more at risk than need be. There is, after all, always more than one response... So leaving his fiddle packed away in his bindle, Willem instead lets his feat lead the way and walks blindly out into the night in the direction he believes the sound had come from. And when the fiddle calls out again Willem retorts with a whistled response and joins in the melody.
The Vagrant smiles to himself, “I should have guessed he would whistle.” Looking a little deflated at having missed an opportunity to play with another, though no less joyful, he makes his fiddle disappear and the bell reappears once more.
The vagrant waits for you to open the door, and as you do it’s like pulling your fingers from your ears and you can hear every sound of the locomotive now, like you entered its realm when clearly it has entered your domain.
The gentle hiss of steam and the sound of movement of a disengaged timing belt while the train sits at rest. A gentle clearing of the throat, followed by a softer Clang-clang of the handbell.
”Pleased to meet ya, Sir. I am the Vagrant, and this is the Ghostlight Express. I was sent out to collect you, and a few others. Ya see, the Druskenvalds them selves are in need of ya, in the land they govern.
Whaddaya say, friend? You would be rewarded handsomely, in the end, I was told.”
as he speaks, he does come closer revealing the previous description of the fellow, to shake your hand, or lead you to the train
Reaper gathers his cards into a deck and with a practised hand, they disappear into the folds of his cloak. "They call me Reaper. You will meet with Vagrant momentarily. He seems to be the Conductor on this coach. You have a nice hat but it is missing something." With that he flicks his hand and a single card goes sailing out in an arc to wedge itself in between the tophat and the ribbon around it. Facing out is the tarot card Death.
Out of my mind, be back shortly.
(I really wanted to use the music, but a lot of the songs aren’t released yet. However, this is what is out;
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZsrxxME7K32hr3CgK7dB22oJAOqZp0bO&si=FzkpYtvFX5Wfv5Zl
Feel free to use these yourself if you’d like)
(A bit of simultaneous posting going on... I'll take it as meeting Vagrant first then Reaper as it seems a bit more linearly correct...)
A skeletal hand raises up and lifts their top hat off their head in a sweeping, theatrical gesture which turns into a deep, deep bow. "I am honored to make your acquaintance," Willem then Whistler says with profound sincerity. "As you must know as you came to find me, I am Willem. Please, call me Whistler."
"I am needed, am I?" Willem asks rhetorically as he shakes The Vagrant's hand. "And I handsome reward, you say? Well then, if duty calls then duty shall be answered, shall it not? I think it shall!"
Allowing himself to be led onto the train, stealing glances and looks a plenty as he does, Willem soon finds himself face to face with Reaper. Willem is once again doffing his hat and bowling surprisingly low in introduction when the card comes flickering out of Reapers hand and flying through the air only to land perfectly tucked into the band at a jaunty angle.
"Aha!" Whistler calls out with appreciation in his voice. He quickly turns the hat so he can look at the card before he spins the hat and replaces it upon his head. "Both appropriate and appreciated!" Whistler declares and drops a wink to his new companion. How exactly a skull can wink is... difficult to describe. There is indeed shifting of the bone to narrow the gaping eye socket but could that just be a trick of the light? Or a trick of the mind? Or...
"I am Willem the Whistler, at your service... It seems we are being recruited for something. Any idea what?"
(Reaper did not see your exchange with Vagrant as the worthy seems to fade in and out with the mist) "Greetings, Whistler. I am as much in the dark for what we are being recruited as you are. Vagrant did mention we would be on the trail of my old foe and anything that stops his reign of death would suit me. I am therefore willing to do as I have many times and wait in the dark until dawn sheds light upon the situation. Since there are many seats yet unfilled, find your comfort or sit for a chat."
Out of my mind, be back shortly.
“The Druskenvalds“ He says, “ will explain everythin, when you do meet em, o’course” and as you do chat with this new acquaintance, you see they are the only one here. The only one to see you present yourself here is the Rat Kin and the Vagrant, however the ostentatiousness was not lost on the simple Bullywug as he clearly seems impressed with the way you hold yourself.
in the mention of “ dawn” the Vagrant adds, “Dawns gonna be a far cry from these lands, friends. Light has a hard time piercin though the veil of the in-betweens of life an’ death.” He offers a welcome and warm smile, “I do have a moment now, would ya like ta follow me ta the bar car, fellas?” He motions towards the door (to the east in the map), and starts to drift that way off of his feet, just at the train starts to lurch and chug against the forces of being stationary for a time, and moves forward gently, swirling that tavern you were just at into darkness