Grab seven pounds and tell a few of the sailors to come with - Hjalmar, for one. Remember that if you waste any of it, I will know. And so will you, Prochorus says grumpily. He keeps looking around to see where the bread came from.
Aside from your own footsteps on the dusty floor, there is no indications that anyone else has been in the kitchen recently.
"Very well, master. I shall visit the owners this afternoon to negociate the price. Everything should be settled within a couple of days so we can begin fixing the place up."
Good, good. Off you go. Do you know where that bread came from, Japik? Seems odd.
"Some baker I presume." Japik smiles at Prochorus. "But there are not that many of them out here from what I understand."
Japik walks around the kitchen looking in cupboards or whatever there is. "The question is who put the loaf here and why haven't it been eaten?"
[OOC: are there any bitemarks on the bread (apart from Japik's)]
No bite marks, the small loaf was whole. Which is a bit surprising, when Japik thinks about it, as one would have expected some small rodent to have been attracted by it.
"At least this place seems free from rats and similar pests. Where else would a loaf of bread stay like this for several days. Do you want to examine this place closer, Prochorus? They spoke of some ghost, might be there is something less mundane about this building after all. Hopefully it's not too bad and our people have seen a few things not to freak out that easy." Japik says as he starts to make himself ready to leave.
Dietlinde snorts at Prochorus' command, but departs, leaving the door open. Only Japik and Prochorus are left in the empty kitchen. Through the open door, they can hear the distant calls of residents going about their daily tasks, as well as the much closer river flowing into the sea and the omnipresent sea birds. The dusty smell of the kitchen contrasts with the weak draft of clean air coming from the door.
Damnation. I feel like a fool. Let me see that.
Prochorus grumbles a loud chant and bangs on his drum. He sponts an InHe spell on the bread to find out what kind of bread it is.
Base 3, +1 Touch = level 4
Against total In 5 + 1 Sta + 2 gestures + 3 drum = 11
(Rolled a 4)
It is simple rye bread, of the rather coarse type that is baked by those ordinary families that can afford it on the island. It was made six days ago and has no unusual properties.
Nothing. Bah. Irrelevant. If there is something here, the grogs will bump into it.
Prochorus turns to leave.
Japik shrugs and follows Prochorus.
Within a week, all the matters regarding the purchase of the inn are settled by Dietlinde. A few workers are hired to refurbish and clean up the place, so that after another week the inn is ready for the magi to live in. Things are fine for another week.
It so happens that, after Japik has departed with the Baltrum and some rescued sailor, there is a crash in the kitchen and some screaming. Prochorus just happens to be the closest magus around the commotion. Soon enough, Dietlinde comes into the common room, trying to calm down the local girl hired she as a cook. The girls, who is no more than sixteen, is sobbing and clearly frigthened.
"It was ta ghost, I tell you! She... she tried to grab me! Oh God, these empty eyes... She... she..." the girls wails and burries her face into Dietlinde's ample bosom, sobbing.
As Dietlinde continues her pacification efforts, Prochorus smiles happily and starts firing questions.
There it is, then! Good girl. Where was it? What did it look like? Tell me everything!
The girl cringes at Prochorus' questions, frigthened by the attention from the strange man. (She's just a mundane hired by Dietlinde, she knows nothing of magi and has had no contact with them.)
Dietlinde gives Prochorus a dirty look and waves the magus away as she resumes her efforts to calm the girl enough to ask her questions.
There, there, don't mind the big bad man. Everything is in order now, just you wait, we have all taken care of...
[What's the roll for that? Communication or presence? Charm or leadership?]
(Mostly Pre + Charm in this instance, but there is no need for a roll in this situation. The girl is scared, and between Dietlinde -- a motherly figure -- and Prochorus with his Gift, you can be sure that Prochorus is not well-positioned to reassure her.)
With a gesture of her free hand, Dietlinde waves Prochorus away, then points at the kitchen. Go, she mouths.
Prochorus heads for the kitchen.
Much like the rest of the one-time inn, the kitchen has changed much since that initial visit three weeks ago. The furniture is now solid and serviceable (although most of it is not actually new) and hooks host a collection of pots, pans, herbs, vegetables and dried fish that makes it a much more familiar sight.
It doesn't take Prochorus much time to notice that the kitchen has been disturbed. Implements that had clearly been in use by the girl while she prepared the evening meal lay scattered on the floor, along with pieces of food and broken crockery. And in the space cleared by these, on the table, lies a freshly baked loaf of bread. The clean smell of fresh bakery causes Prochorus' mouth to water. He is strongly reminded of how little bread he's had since arriving on the island -- with the price of flour on the island, it is something usually rationed to Sundays at best. And it's not Sunday.
Abomination of gastronomic proportions! Reveal thyself! Prochorus exclaims, beard flinging wildly.
...nothing happens...