Padrik’s Curse

Arowe finishes reading the engraved inscription at the base of the glass cabinet.

'... the worthless soldier, who abandoned his post and allowed my precious daughter to be slaughtered in her bed.'

So engrossed in his reading, Arowe barely notices the enchanted, mummified hand, tied around his neck, twitch and point, before a shadowy figure starts to coalesce within the glass cabinet. It's vaguely defined but it seems to be a young man kneeling. Kneeling but weeping, before gradually becoming aware of the Elf's presence.

"Go away!" It whispers.

"I failed in my duty to protect my charge but you must still leave this place!" It's voice getting slightly louder and more ardent.

Slowly rising to its translucent feet, the ethereal figure sways easily through the glass of the cabinet and brandishes what must be an afterimage of its sword. A ghostly weapon. Arowe though, has lived over a hundred years, recently faced an ethereal hag and heard enough ghost stories to be unafraid. Standing his ground against the pathetic spirit, it flinches back from the surrounding statues of the girl it failed to protect. Knowing the wretched creature has no power on the material plane, Arowe instead interrogates the tortured spirit.

"My name is... Was Padrik. I was assigned guard duty for the Lady Lamenta but I failed on my first night's watch. Seven days I was meant to protect her, just seven days... But I failed. Failed on my first night!"

Emboldened by his Elven teammates obvious lack of fear, the Halfling; Liga Bur also listens in to the ghostly tale of woe.

"Although only sixteen, she was already renowned for her kindness and beauty. Despite being a member of the castle guard, I'd never actually seen her up close, so I crept away from my post to sneak a peak through the window of her bed-chamber door. It was just for a moment and I knew there were a score of other guards outside protecting her.”

 

The ghost of Padrik pauses and his vaguely human outline sags in shame. 

"I was somehow caught by surprise and stabbed in the back. I never even saw the face of my killer. It was only when Lord Urdurel summoned my spirit back, that I learned what the consequences of my 'dereliction of duty' were. The guards outside had already been slaughtered by assassins before they'd come for me... And then sweet, innocent Lamenta. My Captain pleaded my case and begged for leniency. He argued that I’d only been eighteen years old myself and should never have been tasked with such responsibility. Lord Urderel would hear none of it though. He swore that he'd find the culprits and punish them in the worst ways imaginable... Starting with me." 

Unimpressed, Arowe yawns and turns away from the ghost’s mewing self pity, to see what Fortu is doing but Liga Bur senses something more in this bound spirit than just regret. Gesturing around the room full of statues, The Halfling squints.

"And this was your punishment? You’re just another inmate in this vertical prison?”

The ghost of Padrik fades further back into his display box of ignominy.

"I can't escape this place. My spirit is bound to my bones, cursed to witness the terror and pain in Lamenta's eyes for all eternity. Tethered to my own decaying skeleton until I've somehow fulfilled my oath to stand seven nights watch."