With the two days of travel over, I found myself on a short bus ride from the train station to Rhewbuck’s shire. The bus was unsurprisingly full after the number of people I saw aboard the train. We had traded the coastal forests for plains and deserts, all within the same state. Even though summer was still clinging on, the desert was surprisingly cold as we neared the mountain, snow dusted the yellowed grass, then turned to piles of snow and slush lining the road, “How cold is Alderia?” I idly asked Kleeix.
	The pixie shrugged, “Cold.”
	“Oh, come on. You must–”
	“Don’t oh come on me,” She mimicked me rather rudely, “I’m not a huge dork like you! I don’t carry instruments to gauge that stuff!”
	I sheepishly scratched my arm, “Right. Sorry.”
She huffed for a moment before thinking it over, “Colder than most places,” She finally answered, “At least I imagine that’s true.”
	“That’s good enough, I’d say,” I didn’t have much to report on Alderia, it seemed like Kleeix hadn’t been there in a long time, even since the old world. It was cold, had a king and queen, and was covered in white and silver. 
	The bus stopped at the edge of the town. Rhewbuck was dusted with snow, the air was just barely cold enough to keep the snow from melting. The sun was out, so I wondered if that would change soon. The evergreen trees nettles were coated in white, at the base of the mountain was the shire, mounds of earth that had been hollowed out with circular doors that led to cozy little homes all stacked atop one another. They were perfect for the small folk that lived here. Across the stone tiled road from the shire was the rest of Rhewbuck, as I expected, there were many contemporary buildings like stores and restaurants with tall, art deco dwarven buildings with many sharp angles. I looked at the black and gray, window-laden building with gold stripes all the way up. Dwarven made, as was obvious to me. Nearby, mostly made of stone with a big glass dome at the top made of triangular windows was what I assumed was their museum. The town sounded dwarven made, but was primarily lived in by halflings now. I was curious what the story was.
	Departing the bus, I felt a chill wind blow through me. My light coat didn’t seem to be enough now, “This is nothing,” Kleeix gave me a smirk. Her glow wasn’t visible, she was hiding so I would need to be careful not to look like an eccentric with a penchant for hearing voices.
	I moved away from the shire, but did take a moment to admire the tall mountain before me. Mount Hood, standing over eleven thousand feet tall (three thousand meters), was the highest peak in Oregon. It wasn’t nearly as famous as Mount Saint Helens in Washington, since that peak had been blown wide open and turned into a sundered land. I made a note to stop there before Logwash, a place Maxine had put in my notes to go to. It was another dwarven town, the Pacific Northwest was littered with them and their old towns they had abandoned and left to the other races. I would avoid Canada, mostly because of the abundance of orc-related problems, being they were currently at war with the Frostback Warband and losing. Maybe when things died down I could write about orcish customs but I'd rather not be mistaken for an enemy. The bus’s brakes hissed and the vehicle rolled away with its near silent mana reactor engine. I was left standing around like an idiot as I thumbed through my journals. Shivering again, I started into town in search of lunch and clothes. I found myself wishing I had a halfling acquaintance here, I would have loved to experience their hospitality in such a cozy atmosphere, “Anything you’re hungry for?” I asked the pixie woman as I found myself clear of onlookers.
	“Something warm,” She decreed.
	“Of course,” I glanced around. A lot of businesses seemed to have two doors. A shorter door, for small folk, and a newer door for human-sized people. I wondered why they didn’t just replace the old door, but thought not much more of it. In the glass display out front I saw a few dresses made of a shimmering, silky material. A blue, butterfly wing adorned dress for a halfling woman, a wider white suit with a red tie for a dwarf, and a green snow suit lined with fur for a human.
	I entered through the taller door after kicking the snow off my shoes. A bell over the door jingled as I walked in, bringing the frigid air inside with me, “Welcome! Welcome!” I was surprised to see a rosy faced gnome step out from behind a curtain with a miasma of purple smoke following him. All of his clothes were purple, down to the socks. Wooden clogs, painted purple with pointed toes that curled upward, purple woolen socks beneath purple slacks with a purple turtleneck sweater with a slightly darker purple vest over it, overall I would describe the gnome as looking very plummish, “What can I do for you, traveler?”
	“I could use a cloak, something simple but warm,” I explained.
	“In purple?” I heard Kleeix tease. 
The gnome smiled widely, “You're just in luck, I'd say! Purple is just my speciality, and I even have cloaks for tall folk of your size!”
When the gnomish man went away looking for the cloak I gazed to my pixie friend who looked sheepishly back at me, “I didn't think he would hear me.”
“Gnomes are the closest thing to a fey for the races of man, Kleeix,” I said flatly, “I've heard that long ago they used to live in the feylands.”
“Well I haven't exactly been there for a while now, Reece. Time works differently in the feylands, or didn't you know?” The pixie huffed back.
I must have looked genuinely surprised because her expression quickly softened, “They do? I mean I've heard of it but I never knew the details,” I could hear the clothier working in the back. I started taking notes. 

	Name: Gnome
Type: Race of Men
Rarity: Uncommon
Disposition: Friendly, wise, perceptive
Habitat: Towns, settlements
Notes: Standing shorter than halflings at three or less feet tall with long, rounded ears, gnomes come in two types, the pale skinned dawn gnomes and the gray skinned dusk gnomes. Both types of gnomes lived in the fey lands ages ago and as such have a few drops of sylphan blood in them allowing them to naturally learn a few minor spells and see the fey that slip into our world. In modern times, dawn gnomes have a penchant for making things and tinkering while dusk gnomes will draw from their magical heritage to become sanctioned wizards, while also dabbling in tinkering, though it is not exclusive to either, simply more common. They’re usually a friendly people, and are happy to help, but also very frugal businessmen who consider their work to be the cream of the crop. Expect to pay a premium.

	“Sanctioned wizard?” Kleeix asked. The clothier still wasn’t back.
	I nodded, “A wizard who has earned a degree, usually a four or six year course, and now works their magic as a trade like a plumber or electrician would do. There are some jobs only they can do or they make some jobs go much faster.”
	“Sounds like a waste of talent.”
	“For some, sure. But for those who are not destined to become masters, it's a well paying job.”
	“Sorry for taking so long!” He returned, his vest had been removed and he had a large purple piece of cloth in his hands that he offered to me. It was a deep reddish purple, “I went with tyrian for the color. It should match the grays you wear quite nicely. And for the little lady,” He presented a much brighter, smaller cloak, “Lilac to go with the bright whites and silvers. I wove some sparkles into it too.”
	“Oh, they’re both lovely!” Kleeix was quick to put hers on. Her’s had a pair of sleeves that she was easily able to stick her arms through and a few tiny buttons on the front. Her wings gently squeezed through the long holes in the back, their flexibility was surprising to me. It was like watching a cat slip through the tight fence bars to a garden.
	Mine was a bit heavy, but lined with a silky material on the inside to trap the heat in. Complete with a hood and without sleeves, the front of mine stayed together with a small, silver pin, “It's wonderful,” I concluded and braced myself to hear the price. It was about as much as expected. I paid in coin, rather than cash, as preferred by some races. 
Kleeix’s was free, “It is not every day I get to work for my long lost kin!” The gnome had laughed. We left soon after, with his recommendation on where to get lunch.
	
	Now cloaked in a warm cape, I made my way through town. Lunch was wonderful, the shire folk had definitely overfed me on chicken and potatoes. Big portions at a very reasonable price. Kleeix was about ready to fall asleep now bundled in her silvery, fluff-lined cloak. It took all my willpower not to poke at her rather adorable form. Seeing her asleep did remind me to find lodging for the night. I made my way to the tall dwarven hotel and stepped inside. The lobby’s floor was polished black marble with leather couches adorning the lobby where a few people waited around and played chess on carved stone boards with stone pieces. Paintings hung from the walls featuring powerful dwarves. Down the hall was a restaurant, its name written in dwarven runes, Flame Broiled Foods. I approached the short front desk, run by a couple of dwarven women, “Looking for a room?” One asked as I approached.
	“I am,” I nodded wearily.
	“Name?” She started to shuffle through papers.
	“Reece M. Gawain.”
	“We have a room ready for you,” The second said, “Someone called earlier and booked it. Said she was an assistant, I believe.”
	Maxine, most likely. An assistant? That didn’t sound like her style to me.
I nodded, “Wonderful. I hope she didn’t give you a hard time.”
	“Not at all,” The first replied, handing me a key, “Head to the elevator, up to the eleventh floor, and take a right. Your suite is on the right side with a wonderful view of the mountain.”
	The woman told the truth. As I went up, the glass walled elevator let me look down into the lobby and out the building’s front windows. The mountains seemed to sparkle with the snow dusting their peaks. I found my room and used the key to enter. The room was just as stylish as the rest of the building. The carpet was black, the walls were white, the bed’s blankets were black, and the mirror on the wall was lined in gold. Through a door and into the bathroom, I saw a gold painted tub, a white sink, and black countertops. It wasn’t the most lavish possible, but the view out the window, letting me stare out over the mountains were totally worth it. I reached into my front pocket and carefully pulled Kleeix out, “Still awake?” 
	She nodded slowly and sleepily, “A bit. What is it?”
	“I’ll leave you here to rest. I wanted to go over to the museum,” I explained, “Don’t want to bore you to tears and all.”
	“Come back with sweets,” The pixie fluttered off my hand and sat leaning against the plush pillow. She pulled her cloak around her and dozed off rather quickly.
	With a smirk, I left her alone in the room.

	The museum was a short walk away. Like I had seen from the bus stop, the building was immaculately carved from stone. The stairs up to the front were all short, built for short folk no doubt. I pushed one of the tall, heavy double doors open and stepped inside. The museum was relatively small, the main first room was full of wide displays full of mineral samples and tools. A set of stairs to the right went to the second floor and one on the left went down to the basement. 
	“Can I help you?” A bored tone came from a younger, short-bearded dwarf sitting behind a polished wooden counter right next to the door.
	I looked at the prices for a moment, “Are Frauw and Dain around? I said I’d stop by.”
	The adolescent dwarf, yet probably older than me, rolled his eyes. After clearing his throat, he cupped his hands around his mouth, “Grandma!” He shouted in dwarven, “Some tall-man is here to see you!” The call echoed off the stone walls and throughout the building.
	“Show me a little more respect,” I cracked a smile as I joked in dwarven, “I wrote one of your grandma’s favorite books.”
	He gave me an awkward smirk and made himself busy by sorting through a few books. The old dwarven woman appeared quickly, despite her age. With a cane in hand, the woman was wearing slacks and a blue polo, “Ah, Reece, wonderful to see you again. I thought you might spend a few days in town before seeing us.”
“Kleeix was falling asleep, so I thought this was a good time to visit,” I replied, “So what can you tell me about this stuff?” I observed a pickaxe head made of a dark, black metal near the front counter.
	“That is adamantine,” The elderly woman slowly walked to my side, “A metal from the old world. Very sought after and one of the first tools to touch the soil here.”
	“So the dwarves were first?”
	Frauw nodded, “Some say so. The clan Phlanox was mining under the earth here. Dain and I came with them in search of work. Though they think we are lost, the clan dwarves still see us as dwarves. Though we found some precious stones, the clan dwarves were looking for something.”
	“Did they find it?”
	Dain appeared, standing around the other displays, “No. I still do not know what they wanted. They were about to bring the whole mountain down in search of this… thing they were so hush hush about.”
	“I see,” I took my notes, “They moved on quickly? I know Phlanox set up shop in Alaska.”
	Dain nodded. His eyes were a bit dark and tired today. He wore a set of robes of a deep maroon color with a half cloak in white adorning his shoulders. He held a small chunk of crystal in hand and an etching tool. He was idly putting a rune into the surface of the blue crystal, “As you said, they went to Alaska. The few free dwarves here stayed. We couldn’t call this Phlanox anymore, since the clan left. As we came to the surface, we found the shirefolk had already moved in. Rhewbuck was the major family’s name so we took it as the town name. We continued to mine, and they took care of the rest.”
	“The real wealth of the town arrived with the ski resort and all the tourism!” There was a big smile on Frauw’s face, “The museum and hotel went up soon after. Over here, we have a painting of the original mining crew,” She gestured to a painting of about twenty dwarves. Each one was wearing high-visibility vests over their patchwork clothes and coveralls. On their heads they wore modern miner's helmets with lights on the front. Gear like shovels, pickaxes, flashlights, flares, magnifying glasses and the like all hung from their chests and big backpacks slung over their shoulders. Each one, minus Frauw, had a beard done in braids or bound in metals.
	I was shown a few more. Halflings setting up their homes, children of both races playing in the snow, the first human villagers building their cabins, the grand opening of the resort, and a painting of a zeppelin lighting up the night with search lights. Disappearance of Sir Felligar that one read. The rest were actual photos. Polaroids, printed out and blurry digital photos, and some professionally developed photos. None really stood out, just buildings being built with their address written on them. 
	Dain pointed to some long cylinders of stone, “These were what we dug out to find precious stone and metal. A few odd rocks over there…” He chiseled the crystal some more, “Anything else you need, boy?”
	I looked over a few rocks, “Can you tell me about dwarven rune writing?”
	“Oh, that should excite my husband,” Frauw grinned and stepped away to check the photos.
	Dain looked a little sheepish, “Rune writing used to be the only form of magic dwarves would learn. At first we had no magic other than holy casting. But, our ancestors dabbled in the fey folk’s affairs,” I was nodding along, taking notes the whole time, “Now, common fairies have no written script, but the high fey do. Sylphan words have power. Their runes glow with power when written into certain surfaces and imbued with mana. The first dwarves took these runes and turned them into our own magic. The fey, creatures of magic and mana and emotions, did not use these to the fullest extent. But we did. Explosives, shields, power sources, we had limitless potential. Many dwarves stay to only runic casting, but us free dwarves, the less traditional of us stout folk, have both. We made for powerful warriors during the Calendar Crusades.”
	I couldn’t help snort at that name, most definitely told in jest, “That’s a new one,” I commented, quickly regaining my composure, “You mean the war of the tenth year. The after cracking war.”
	“Aye, I do, boy.”
	“Huh?” The dwarf’s grandson had a confused look on his face.
	“Have ye never listened to your own grandfather’s stories of glory!?” He roared at the boy. 
I could tell the young dwarf was hiding a comic book in the thick tome of ancient lore he had in hand, but to my surprise he protested, “I have!”
“Then tell me about my stories,” Dain challenged gruffly.
	I sighed as the dwarf seemed to freeze. I answered for him, “Your grandfather fought in a grand campaign against the elves and their sycophants along with a pretty large human contingent. They were all fighting over what calendar to use in the new world.”
	“Everything had changed so much, we all felt it necessary,” Dain nodded, “And the Lord thought us right and handed us victory.”
	I kept writing, “Where were you involved in the fighting?”
	“I tried to stop him from going!” Frauw shouted.
	“I was in North Africa,” Dain sounded quite proud, “Until I took a lightning bolt to the ribs. Shattered all of them. My casting hasn’t been quite the same since then. But we beat those damnable elves and their cohorts.”
	“Well, thank you for your service,” I closed my journal, content with that information, “Thank you for the information. Can I ask you something unrelated?”
	“Why yes, my boy,” Dain nodded. The rune in his hands glowed as he finished up the incantation.
	I pulled out my notebook, “Are there any rumors in town? Strange sightings? Creatures of the night?”
	Dain looked to Frauw with a somewhat nervous look, “Tell him, dear,” The woman decided.
	The elderly dwarf found a short chair to sit on, “Some form of undead on the mountain. A ghostly apparition appears at night.”
	I jotted that down, “Above the shire, I’d imagine?”
	“Aye. If you can help me determine what it is, I can perform a ritual to banish it,” Dain looked pained, “But these old bones cannot wander the mountains easily…”
	With a slow nod, I stared at my notes and my mace. My heart was racing, surprising me most of all. But I had a job to do. Somehow, I had never really considered that I would need to actually face such creatures. It was an odd sense of duty, doing it for money and a crazy cat lady, “A-Alright. I’ll do what I can,” I stuttered out.
	“Will the pixie be able to keep you safe?” Frauw frowned and looked me over, “Can’t you do something, Dain?”
	He shrugged, “The boy need not engage the apparition. Fighting one without a spellcaster is a horrible idea. Just run if you see it and try to leave a marker in the area it wanders.”
	I nodded slowly, “W-what should I expect? Danger wise?”
	“Oh, ghosts can suck the life force out of you, freeze you, some can possess you…” Frauw started to list, “I didn’t mean to worry you, boy. You just need to be aware.”
	“Worried? M-Me?” I tried to put on a confident face, but the paleness of my skin betrayed the fear I felt just thinking about it. I suddenly wished my parents had picked wizardry instead of being multilingual for my early tutelage.
	All three dwarves looked concerned, “He’s the writer and adventurer here, I am sure he will be fine,” Dain decided with a nod, “With all that training and such.”
	“Aye, you have the right of it,” Frauw nodded, “Go in health, boy.”
	I took a deep breath, “Of course,” I held my composure the best I could, “I’m a professional, after all,” Another fib. I was glad Kleeix wasn’t here.

	It was three in the morning and I was out on the slope. Snow stuck to my cloak. I was glad my cloak was so warm and that the weighted hood stayed on my head despite the howling wind. A scarf covered my mouth and nose, keeping them safe from the biting cold. Like the north star, Kleeix’s glow guided me as my hooded lantern faltered in the darkness of the snow fall. The Oregon evergreens looked menacing as they towered overhead, obfuscated by the heavy snowfall and illuminated by my meager lantern that cast ghoulish faces across their bark, “Stop falling behind,” Kleeix warned, completely unbothered by the snow and cold, “Is this what you consider cold?”
	“Yeah, a bit,” I grumbled with my muffled voice, “Can you sense anything?”
	Keelix paused, her antennae twitching, “No.”
	In my nervousness and frustration, I almost snapped at her, “Just keep trying.”
	“What are you even expecting to find?”
	“A ghost.”
	“I don’t even know what a ghost would feel like, Reece the foolish.”
	“I-I don’t know either,” A cold wind sent chills down my back, “But if I had to guess I'd say it would feel wrong!”
“Alright, I think I understand,” She replied, less than enthused, “So those dwarves didn't give you any kind of description or anything?”
	“Only what I already told you, that it tends to stalk the slopes,” I grumbled, “Although I can probably guess what a ghost will look like… I hope I'm wrong,” I felt cold again, despite the warmth of my cloak. Even Kleeix looked like she was shivering now, “What happened to this cold being nothing?” While I meant this teasingly, my voice was shaking.
	“It– It's probably nothing,” Even her breath was visible. My already pounding heart was getting worse. Something was wrong, I could feel it in my soul, “What is this?” She ran her fingers over her skin.
	I got closer, “Goosebumps, I’ve got them too.”
	The wind howled and made me whip around with fright. Ghastly noises filled my ears, was the wind tricking me? The lantern showed me little through the snow and dark, “C-can we leave?” Kleeix whispered, hiding within my hood for warmth.
	“I think we should… We’re getting nowhere out here,” I admitted. I would have to tell the dwarves I could not find it before moving on. I checked my compass, and the town was to the southeast. I turned and looked up before freezing in my tracks. About ten feet in front of me was the ghostly visage of a man in a torn and bloody coat and thick, ragged pants. He had no boots on his gnarled feet, and looked like a man half frozen to death. The figure shimmered and glowed a faint white-blue as it seemed to shamble and float toward me. I couldn’t move a muscle as fear gripped me. I couldn’t look away from his hollow, dark eyes where two tiny points of light came from. Each was fixed on me. The figure continued floating ever closer to me, his hands slowly outstretching as if to grab me. He was only three or so feet away now.
	“Run, Reece! Move!” Kleeix hissed in my ear. 
	I still couldn’t move. Despite how much I was trying to fight it. Cold air hissed from the ghost’s mouth, blue, glowing air fell off of him and before I could move he was on top of me. The hands grabbed my face, it was a cold I felt in my soul. It was taking something from me, I was feeling weaker and weaker as it sapped the energy from me. My body shook, but I took action finally as my hand went for my mace. I swung it wildly with a wide, untrained arc that passed right through my attacker. I fell to my back, with the ghost still sapping my strength and warmth from my body, “No…” I wheezed. I couldn’t strike nor push the undead attacker off of me. I was freezing, inside and out, the snow was piling up on me and a ghostly frost was forming on my body. An uneasy calm was befalling me, my panicked thoughts were falling away and being replaced with whispers of death. I was going limp now. Death was coming, my world was dark.
	Kleeix suddenly screamed, the war cry roused me and seemed to startle even the ghost. The little pixie had drawn her thin sword and held it out right in front of her as she furiously flapped her wings and flew through the ghost. Her sword of fey metal punched a hole right through the monster. The ghost stumbled back and wailed in pain. I took a deep breath, finally filling my pained lungs with frigid air, “Come on! Come on! Move!” Kleeix was using all her might to get me to my feet. 
	I looked at the ghost. I grabbed my camera and snapped a photo. I didn’t know what came over me, but the flash seemed to stop the ghost for a moment. Leaving my lantern behind, I stumbled to my feet, and blindly followed Kleeix’s white glow.
	I couldn’t tell how long I ran and stumbled, falling over myself constantly. I was weak, but adrenaline carried me, “Reece?” Kleeix slowed down as we got near the town. Rhewbuck’s dim lights glowed invitingly, asking me quietly to get out of the cold, “Reece? You’re white as snow! Are you okay?”
	“Ughh…” I groaned. I was shaking horribly and freezing. Snow and ice covered my body. In a pile of snow under a streetlamp, I collapsed.

	When I awoke, I filled my lungs with a deep breath before sputtering and coughing. My cloak, I noticed, was folded up by my head. A bright light filled my view, “Reece? Reece?” Kleeix cried. As my vision cleared I saw the tear stains on her pale face. 
	“Your friend is alive,” A man sighed. To my right was a man in priestly garb, black robes that flowed down his body. He carried a wooden staff in his hand with an ornate cross of gold at the top. Another man, much younger than him, carried an aspergillum, a bit of water dripped from it, and a small jar of salts. A third man, little more than a teen, carried a censer and was whispering holy chants. Each one of their black robes was adorned with a cross on either side of their chest, “You encountered the ghost?” The eldest asked. He was adorned with a white sash that hung from his waist.
	I checked my watch, it was four in the morning. I nodded slowly, “I did.”
	“I told him, I told him not to,” Kleeix was still shaking. 
	“Kleeix,” I offered her my hands which she gladly landed on them.
	She clutched my fingers, “You’re so foolish!” She chastised.
	“Hush, no need to shout at him now,” The oldest cleric sighed wearily, “I cleansed your body of the illness the apparition placed upon you.”
	“That’s what was sapping my strength?” I guessed. I sat up as the elder man nodded, they had laid me out on a long pew. I bowed my head gratefully, “Thank you so much. I imagine you dragged me here?”
	“We did. Your pixie friend was quite bold to come here,” He smirked, “Most fey tend to avoid monasteries and churches.”
	“We met some nice gargoyles a few days ago, that might be who she was looking for,” I guessed, “What do I owe you for services?”
	The cleric put his hand up and smiled, “Nothing. It is our duty to do the Lord’s work, especially to fight off the threat of the undead.”
“You saved my life! I have to repay you somehow!”
“We did not save you, God has saved you. If you feel the need, you may put a donation in the box by the door.”
	“I’ll let the dwarf, Dain, know about the ghost. He should be able to banish it. If not, I imagine he’ll come here,” I explained as I picked up my back and cloak.
	They all three nodded, “That would be wise. Have a good day, and go with God.”
	I nodded again in thanks before slipping the sleepy pixie into my pocket. The youngest led me out and I was sure to put a fifty in the donation box. I was back out into the dark night, but the snow had all but stopped. I made my way to the hotel in search of a real night’s rest.

	Name: Ghost
Type: Undead
Rarity: Rare
Disposition: Hostile, usually
Habitat: Locations they were tied to in life - haunting grounds
Notes: Ghosts are apparitions of the ghoulish facade that they wore in life. Any species with a soul seems to be able to become a ghost, but this usually only happens when the person feels they were unfulfilled in life. Ghosts seek out life in their haunting grounds and attempt to sap it out as if to consume it. This could be due to jealousy or it may simply be that they are drawn to the living. In either case, this can easily kill a person and leave their body a deformed husk if not stopped. There is even the danger that the body could become possessed if left at the mercy of the ghost for long enough. The curse or illness that saps the victim’s life can be removed by a holy caster. Seeking out a priest is the surest way to be cured.
	Similar to most undead, non magical means cannot harm them. A wizard or, even better, a holy caster such as a cleric or priest is needed to banish them. Surprisingly, a ghost’s energy can be caught on camera in a photo, but you will not see the details of their old form. That is only possible with the naked eye. My guess would be it is because the camera cannot see the soul like we can and therefore cannot capture it, contrary to old superstitions.
	
	I looked at Dain for confirmation. He had his eyes closed as he ran his fingers over a sheet of runes, “A wizard could heal the affliction as well. Other than that, I have no complaints.”
	“Thank the Lord you did not encounter a banshee,” Frauw sighed, offering me a cup of tea.
	I was on the third floor of the museum where the two curators and their grandson lived. The table I sat at was short. I had been served a steak that was buried in a dwarven spice rub along with heavily salted and peppered potatoes with a sweet mushroom sauce. I was very familiar with dwarven cuisine and how many spices they tended to coat their meals in. Their resistance to poisons also meant they had a resistance to spicy foods. It made sense to me that they would have a strong love of spices and I made a mental note to update their entry in my journal after confirming this through meeting other dwarves. It was a very hearty lunch, but I needed it. I drank dwarven beer from a small wooden tankard and sighed heavily, “It could have been much worse,” I smiled, but the exhaustion was obvious on my face, “Kleeix saved my life. And I don’t think I can be thankful enough,” I smiled at the little pixie that sat at my side. She was using a little plastic container as a table for her little cut of steak and spoonful of potatoes. Kleeix hadn’t seemed to take a bite yet. I frowned.
	“Aye, we’d all be grateful to have a little guardian angel,” Dain smirked, “I will handle the ghost tonight. What did you leave there?”
	“My lantern.”
	“I’ll scry for it,” He brought out a rod and started to wave it.
	Frauw cleared her throat, “No casting at the table.”
	“Aye, dear,” He grumbled, “Reece, how’s the food?”
	“Very good,” I smiled.
	“Dear, you better reward the boy for his troubles,” Frauw warned, “You wouldn’t want him to write a bad review of our little museum,” I let out a little laugh at that idea.
	Dain grumbled again and left the table, “I think this will do,” He gave me a very simple silver circlet with a small emerald inlaid into the front, “Once you learn how to use it, you can use that circlet to expel a burst of mana to defend yourself. It can also create simple barriers.”
	“Thank you,” I tried it on and felt it grow to fit my head comfortably, “I won’t be caught by a ghost again,” I worked on finishing my food along with the dwarves, “I’ll be sure to write a review when I get home.”
	“Oh, we’re going to be famous, Dain!” Frauw laughed.
	Dain simply grumbled and went back to working over lunch.
	I eyed Kleeix and frowned. She still wasn’t eating even now when the food was getting cold. It was obvious on her face that she was upset, but what had done it? Was it our near-death experience? I wondered about this for a time as she remained silent for the rest of the meal, not responding to my coaxing her at all. I decided that for now I would leave it.