CHAPTER TWO - TROLLSKULL ALLEY
PART ONE - WELCOME TO TROLLSKULL MANOR
WAIT A MINUTE. WE HAVE A BUTLER?

FC: Fat, your detect magic doesn't yield any results. As you look around the taproom, you don't see anyone. You turn to put your attention on something else, when suddenly you can feel a presence, a coldness, way too close for comfort. As you slowly turn, you see the ghost of a half-elf look at you with great annoyance, as if you've disturbed something he was attending to. He is dressed in fine clothing, as if he was a high class server in its previous life. He waves his hands around in annoyance, but doesn't say a single word.

After Leon spent an hour or two cleaning and setting up his room, the sudden scent of food reached his nose. Someone was cooking? His stomach growled at attention, remembering he hadnt eaten since the morning (and it wasnt too much of a filling meal either). He set aside his quarterstaff and made way down the stairs, taking a better look at his surroundings now.

This place wasnt perfect, but it brought him back to how his temple once looked. Once they decided to give it some TLC, it will be a home away from home, a home base worthy of being called such.

Once he stepped foot back on the first floor he saw FC casting a spell of sorts. A slender eyebrow raised in question, slowly making way to the vacant kitchen in which he assumed the food would be, but he was met with nothing.

”That’s odd...” He thought aloud. “Could have sworn I smelled something...”

He turned to Fatcat. “Did you smell it too?”

Astrid claimed the Turret Peak.  She was always strange, for a deep gnome, in that she rather enjoyed being up high.  Perhaps she was over compensating for always being the shorty in the group?

Shortly after laying claim to the turret, she dropped off her pack, pulled out the huge sack of coin, and merrily skipped her way down to the local Restoration Knobs and Knockers store, and purchased two bolts of luxurious purple cloth, and some needle and thread.  Literally running at breakneck speed, she returned back to FC's Gang HQ, scampered up to the turret peak, and excitedly spent the next two hours sewing blackout curtains and wall hangings.

Upon completing her most-important task, she proudly hiked back down the stairs when she noticed a commotion in the dining room area, and smelled the delectable smells of freshly made dinner.  "Yummmm!  FC, I didn't know you could cook?!"

As more people approach downstairs, the half-elf ghost seems more and more irritated. A couple of dishes fly about the room and break, as if physically matching his annoyance.

“Hey!” Leon shouts as he avoids getting hit by a dish, his eyes trying to focus on the figure near Fatcat. He makes his way to the... transluscent being, confusion making an appearance on his visage. 

“A ghost...?”

CHAPTER TWO - TROLLSKULL ALLEY
PART ONE - WELCOME TO TROLLSKULL MANOR
WAIT A MINUTE. WE HAVE A BUTLER?

The ghost looks at the three of you in the taproom. After a moment, he rolls his eyes, as if you're all being unruly guests, and the chairs slide out from the tables.

I think he's inviting you to sit down. He gestures to the open chairs that just slid out, with a look on his face that shows he's doing his best not to treat you like naughty children.

Leon’s eyes dart from the figure to the chair and back, hesitating a moment before slowly making way to the table and sitting down on one of the chairs that slid outwards. 

“Thank... you?”

The specter butler makes a face of approval at Leon, quite pleased. He still gestures for the others to sit down, and he points to the clock that's..not..hanging on the wall. At least, that's where you think a clock should go. He points to the clock, and makes arm motions, sweeping across the table, which is suddenly clean - and more dishes have appeared.

He takes his hands and pantomimes writing on a small notepad with a pencil - he holds out the imaginary notepad to you all, and in the empty space where the words should be, says a message written in arcane common.

"I am Lif, your servant. It's time for breakfast."

Astrid bounds into the dining room, exclaiming with glee “A ghostie?!  YEAH!  I shall call him George. Hi, George!”

FC bursts out laughing. "No wonder we got this place so cheap! Hahahahhh" he chokes on his own laugh which turns in to a cough.

"'Allo Lif. Please, let me introduce myself and my crew..." he pulls out a chair and runs through introducing each of you who is currently there.

Pheral makes her way to the taproom. For the first time, all who observe can see her more...natural form. She sircoar, leather armor, sword and crossbow belts are gone, along with the large hat and boots. She is wearing a simple cotton shirt, with longs sleeves, that hangs loose about her shoulders. It's not tied up all the way allowing a fair amount of skin to show. She is tanned from being in the sun, and perhaps it's an all over tan at that. While not as..let say blessed, as a certain paladin, she is tall and well perprotioned. Clearly her gear hides her feminine side, that curves in all the right places with an appealing degree. A single scar runs sharply under her left collor bone. Her hair is unbraided and hands loosly past her waist, swaying as she walks and shimmering like firelight.

Good morning sewer pals, what's going on with all this ?

(extra long description just for you Crispy)

Azrael had finally finished planning where everything would be. The vinegar-alcohol-barrels down here he had considered tossing until he thought that the vinegar could be tossed at someone's eyes to blind them..... perhaps they could use them tactically. He began to climb back up to the first floors taproom, having heard more dishes, and just barely managed to see the 'note' written by the Ghost.

Azrael takes a moment to take stock of the ghost itself, and determines it seems like it doesn't mean any harm, however he also noticed the ghost appeared very agitated with them all.. which he felt contradicted the words on the note. As he strode up, he spoke to the ghost directly.

Tell me then, Lif. If you are our servant why do you not show us more deference, and less agitation? Is it the servants place to command it's masters?

After that he would make his way to where the others were, and follow suit with them if they sat or chose not to. Noticing then, however that Pheral made her way in, his eyes did linger for a moment longer than they probably should have, but his mannerisms were un-phased otherwise as he said Ah, Pheral. I need to talk to you when we can have a moment alone.

Pheral shifts her hips putting her weight to one side and placing her hand on one. She gives Azrael a wry smile. Nows a good time, unless you want to eat what Mr Spooky made us first. Pheral seems to know how to play the game too. (you all just lost the game btw). 

Lif ignores the comment from Azrael, and returns to the table. Through a few minutes of writing, Lif explains that he was the barkeep of the manor, keeping it clean and attending to it's guests and it meant so much to him that he couldn't abandon his position - even in death.

He takes time to go around the table and take breakfast orders. Within a very short time, fresh warm food is on the table per your exact specification. As you eat, he begins cleaning joyfully and very detailed like.

Azrael would shake his head, no, as he reluctantly sat down at the table. He wasn't sure how he felt about the ghost. And made a simple but filling request for food.. might as well try it once... the ghost didn't seem hostile.

Fine then. I was wanting to apologize about my stinging comments the other day. Perhaps I misread how, or why you were saying what you said, and I've been meaning to do this since the thought came to me, but haven't had the opportunity until now. Perhaps a little less sarcasm in the response will help. I speak plainly, and say what I mean, so I tend to assume the same of others, unless I expect them to attempt deceive me first. I would much rather have done that in private, however, as it didn't really matter to anyone else here. In any case, keep up the good work.

His spirits were obviously high so he let it drop there. (damn editor issues...)

It was odd to see some of his fellow teammates not in their usual armored gear, Leon himself still currently in his emerlad combat robe and beige trousers. He needed to wind down, realizing they would be “stuck” together for a while to aid in bringing peace back to Waterdeep.

He thanked Lif for the food before taking a cautious bite. How did a ghost make food? It tasted good, no signs of poisoning...

Leon cleared his throat at an attempt to clear tense air.

”So, how is everyone enjoying their quarters? How about the meal? Thank you again, Lif.”

Though Pheral was tall, she seemed dwarfed, pun intended, by the Dragonborn.  She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Think nothing of it her expression softens I'm used to a more, colorful, group of people. Sarcasm and wit can be a shield and sword against many  a foe. her expression goes alittle dark for a moment as early memories surface. It quickly fades and her expression returns to normal.  Besides, you were right at the time. And now, I have proven myself and we have earned this wonderful manor.

Astrid: “Oooh boy-o, Mr Leon, you gotta come up to my pad, up in the belfry. It’s ah-maze-balls!  The views are supes spectacular, and I made it all cozy and such.”

Turning to Lif, she winks and grins at him, purring “And Liffy, this sop is to die for!  My compliments. Can I have another serving?  I worked up quite a sweat this morning, sewing up a storm!”

Azrael cleared his throat as Astrid spoke saying Astrid, Sop can be taken as an Insult by a cook.. it's akin to calling Ale, swill. Was the Dragonborn serious or joking? It was hard to tell as his eyes were closed as he ate, and apparently had his cheek assaulted by lips that were unfamiliar to him. The food seemed fine by any standard.. but he wondered.. did this food have a limit? Lif. Tell me.. is there a limit to this food? is there a storage of it? that we have to replenish? will you be able to provide foodstuffs for.. extended journeys? essentially asking if he was able to make days worth of rations, and so on.

(This will probably be the last post I have time for today.)

Lif, like a cooking machine, is happy to bring out more food per anyone's request. Amazingly, the kitchen is empty, but each time he enters the kitchen or taproom and comes out, he's with food of your every desire. You're not sure how, but he's able to magically concoct anything you wish, remembering each and every detail of how you'd like it prepared. What's stranger still, it always tastes amazing.

As you guys eat and talk, he is also quick to remove dirty mugs and plates with a smile, or help you with your chair should you sit down or leave the table.