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Bone song you say?

>>42808056
>>42808315
>>42808233

You glance back at the painting one last time. The little bat pony is still there, half-hidden among the rocks. Up close it’s obvious she’s a mare, small frame, pale grey coat, a stark white mane draped over one eye. You note the details, then turn to Murk.

“I’ll catch up with you later. Let me know what you find.”

He nods, and you make for the stairs.

The kitchen sits silent and empty as you pass by. You climb another flight, the wooden steps creaking and groaning under your hooves as though complaining about the weight of years.

At the top, you step into a narrow hallway lined with five doors. The one directly ahead is marked Bathroom in chipped paint. From somewhere down the hall, you hear music,a low, smoky jazz tune drifting from behind one of the doors. Slow rhythm, steady beat, the kind of song played after midnight.

You follow the sound.

She grew up under bright lights,
Las Pegasus in her veins.
Couldn’t tell the truth from glitter,
Learned to dance away the pain.

Peering inside, you spot Vale at a desk, completely absorbed in her work. Precision tools float in the grip of her blue aura, dipping and twisting inside an open metal box filled with tiny springs, wires, and gears. A cluster of mana gems sits to one side, glowing faintly in response to each careful motion of her magic.

She hasn’t noticed you yet.

But one night she met a stranger
Who spoke promises real low~
Said he’d change her losing future
For a fate she didn’t own.

You glance further into the room. On the bed, Doodles lies on her back, head bobbing to the steady beat, her ghostly tail swaying lazily in time with the music.

[What is you next move]
1.Leave them be.
2.Continue looking for Doc.

>>42809835
I think we should leave them be a continue looking for Doc.
Did you forget something here?

>>42809863
I forgot Marrow is still carrying a book for Vale.

>>42809869
We better knock and give her the book, then.
I figured both options being essentially the same thing was weird.

>>42809869
>>42809970
Now I see. First post and I fuck up. Just like old times...

>>42809835
Look for Doc find out what our medic been up to on his side of the investigation

>>42809863
>>42809970
>>42810003

You rap gently on the door.

“One second,” Vale calls, finishing the delicate clip of a spring into a wooden box. She sets down her tools and flicks her magic to lower the gramophone’s volume tucked behind the door. Turning, she takes a look at you then flinches before lifting her goggles.

“Nothing worse than staring at a pony at ten times magnification.” She rubs her eyes then blinks twice. “If you’re expecting this to be done, start praying for miracles.”

You shake your head and step inside, tucking the book under your leg. “No, I found this in the living quarters. Thought it might be something you’d be interested in.” You hand her the book.

Vale examines the cover, Doodles floats over, peering over her shoulder. “More Songs of the Moor Ponies, huh?” she muses, flipping through a few pages. “You’d be surprised how much folklore ends up in songs.”

“I was hoping you’d find something useful in it,” you reply.

The unicorn nods, “I’ll let you know…”

“Thanks.” You move toward the door, stopping mid-step. “Have you seen Doc?”

“He’s in his room, next door. Saw him pass by a little while ago,” Vale answers without looking up, already absorbed back into her work. “Oh before you leave, is Doodles still here?”

“She’s sitting next to you, watching you work. See you both later.” You give a respectful nod to the two mares.
“Bye Marrow.” Doodles waves, her form shimmering slightly.

“Later,” Vale replies, turning the gramophone’s volume back up.

You step back into the hallway and make your way to the last door, giving it a firm knock on the old oak wood.
“Just come in,” Doc’s gruff voice calls.

You push the door open to find him unpacking his equipment.

“Ya goin’ have to forgive me. Didn’t find anything, so I decided to unpack the old-fashioned way, unlike Miss Magic-Flash-Its-Done next door,” Doc grumbles, tossing a small bundle into a drawer.

“You have a problem with magic?” you ask.

“No, no,” the old stallion smirks, rummaging through another box. “When you’re my age, you like to find things to grumble about.” He sets a bag of medical instruments into a drawer then slides it shut. “So, what can I do for you?”

[What is your next move?]

>>42810062
He already answered our question so give him a quick heads up on that we found a map and some folklore matching the patrol warnings, then let him settle in.

>>42810062
Where did you look? Just wondering if there's any more rooms we, or anypony else, haven't looked in yet.

>>42810136
>>42810156
“I was going to ask if you found anything…did you just look in here? any more rooms we, or anypony else, haven't looked in yet.” you ask.

“Yep,” Doc replies, tapping his hoof lightly against the drawers. “Checked every drawer, even looked under the bed. I’m leavin’ the other bedrooms to their owners, don’t want to be diggin’ through other ponies’ belongings.” He says it with a certain old-frontier respect, like it’s a rule carved into stone. “Is there anythin’ else?”

You explain everything you found in the living quarters, laying out the oddities, the old picture, and the map and books.

Doc listens with a low hum, then snorts. “Huh. Hittin’ the ground runnin’, aren’t you? But don’t forget what I told you. With Miss Doodles glued to your tail, you need to make sure you stay healthy.” He pushes the empty box under his desk with a hind hoof.

“I feel fine. I just need to work out what’s going on here as soon as possible,” you say, trying not to sound defensive.

“Yeah, I can see that. And no questions about your work ethic rivals any stallion I knew back on the frontier.” Doc adjusts his glasses and gives you a pointed look. “But it’s knowin’ when to rest that keeps a pony breathing.”

"But..."

He nods toward you. “You’ve got bags under your eyes big enough to fit the next harvest. Go on. Get some rest. I'll let the others know your resting. I'm sure they'll understand.”

[What is your next move?]
1. Continue looking.
2. Go to bed - Time skips to late afternoon next day.

>>42810181
I feel like things could go bad if we ignore Doc. Get some rest. Get everyone together to officially start investigating tomorrow.

>>42810181
Go to bed. Our body needs a lot of energy to power up two souls.

>>42810181
Gather the team for a debrief, grab something to eat, and get some sleep.

>>42810231
>>42810262

You give in and nod. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Notta problem.” He gestures toward the door with a flick of his hoof. “Now go on-git.”

You leave his room and head to your own. The decor is basic: a wardrobe, a set of drawers, a desk, and a bed that looks far more inviting than it should. You walk over and flop face-first into the pillow. You’re out before you can think another thought.

When you finally stir, it’s later than you intended. Your eyes blink open to find Doodles perched on your chest, staring down at you with wide red eyes.

“Are you trying to give me a night terror?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “Because you’re bad at it.”

Doodles chuckles. “No. I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last hour. Hard to do when my hooves pass right through you.”

"What time is it," You ask.

Doodle looks out the window, "I'd say early afternoon."

You drag the sheets off yourself,watching them fall clean through her, and stretch, several joints popping in protest.

“Did you know your ear flicks while you’re sleeping?” Doodles asks, fascinated.

“No, no I didn’t,” you say, yawning so hard your eyes water. “Funny enough, I don’t monitor my ears when I’m unconscious.”

After washing up in the bathroom, you head downstairs. The old oven is still radiating heat as you pass the kitchen, and a warm smell drifts up from the living quarters, haybacon and eggs.
You follow it down the stairs.

Doc and Vale are sitting on one sofa, while Murk is sprawled on the opposite one, head tipped back and snoring softly. A book lies open on his lap, and a rasher of haybacon rests on his muzzle like someone set a trap for him. His tongue occasionally lolls out, trying to catch it.

Vale covers her giggles with a hoof. Doc just shakes his head, trying and failing to hide his smirk. He looks up when he notices you.

“Ah, Marrow. Just made somethin’ up, here, dig in.” He nudges a plate across the table.

You sit down carefully so you don’t wake Murk. The plate is loaded with haybacon and eggs, still steaming. You don’t waste time before taking a few bites.

As you chew, Doc drops a small stack of letters in front of you. “From the post this mornin’.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42810296
This many already? I guess they can't wait to put us to work. Let's take a look after we got a good amount of food in us, we're eating for more than one after all. How many calories does Doodles burn I wonder and is it stable or does her activity play into it as well? I bet the lab colts would love to get some measurements on this stuff.

>>42810386

You quickly chow down on your food, in an almost ravenous hunger. Your plate wiped clean with a slice of toast. You swallowed the rest of your meal then sighed with satisfaction.

Your mind wanders as the others finish their meal. Your eyes drift to Doodles, who floats in front of the bookcase, scanning the rows of worn books and journals. You can’t help wondering how much of your energy she’s burning through to do all that. Whatever the number is, the labcoats back at HQ would love to get their hooves on it.

You turn back to Doc, who’s watching you over the rim of his glasses.

“Is there a problem?” you ask.

“Just checkin’ up on you,” Doc replies. “You look a little better—”
He’s cut off by a heavy thud. A book has fallen to the floor. Doc glances over. “Was that Doodles?”

“Yeah…” You follow his gaze. Doodles has her muzzle buried in a book, determined. After a moment she tries to flick the page, only for her hoof to pass straight through it. She tries again. And again. Then she blows at it. No luck. She pauses, thinking hard, then grins. Backing up, she swoops past the book, the gust flipping the page for her.
With a tiny floating air-dance of triumph, she settles back down and continues reading.

“She’s trying to read,” you say.

“Great, now we’ve got a resident poltergeist…” Vale says dryly. She pauses, thinking it over. “Though honestly? Last night I didn’t feel any discomfort when she was in my room. Just a cool breeze now and again.”

Murk snores loudly and shifts on the sofa, his head lolling to one side. His mouth opens and closes in slow motion as he instinctively tries to snag the haybacon still balanced on his muzzle.

Doc adjusts his glasses, watching the scene without the slightest hint of concern,only interest.
“Has she shown poltergeist activity before?” he asks, tone curious rather than worried.

“A few times,” You confirm.

Doc gives you a dry look. “And you’re sure she ain’t drainin’ you too much?”

“Pretty sure.” You hesitate. “Mostly sure.”

He raises a brow.

You shrug. “I haven’t passed out yet?”

“Comfortin’,” Doc mutters.

>>42810502
Your attention drifts to the stack of post on the table, a perfect excuse to change the subject. You pick up the first letter and unfold it. Promotion papers, along with your compulsory new pension plan. You can almost hear the investors laughing and rubbing their hooves together, fully aware that the chances of you ever cashing it in are slim. Your eyes flick toward the memorial wall, all those names carved in stone, and you can’t help but wonder why the pension is mandatory at all.

You set the paperwork aside and open the next envelope. HQ’s weekly newsletter. You scan through the headlines, each one as absurdly normal as ever:
Unit Y reforming…
V2 Meters still rolling out…
Operative deaths down ten percent this year…
Alcohol accounts for thirty percent of the annual budget; lead accountants unwilling to explain this to Princess Luna…
Refer a friend to join PHEER and receive a twenty-bit gift voucher upon their successful signup…
You exhale through your nose, unsure whether to laugh or sigh.

You open the final letter.

It’s your first case assignment,looks like they couldn’t wait to put you to work. You tear open the envelope and unfold the thin sheet inside.

ASSIGNED UNIT: Y
CASE THREAT LEVEL: LOW
CASE NAME: Temple Tantrums
LOCATION: Hornburn Village — Celestian Temple
BRIEF:
The head priest of the Celestian Temple has requested an investigative team. The temple’s underground vaults have shown signs of paranormal activity. Recently, due to the building’s ageing and unstable foundations, builders were hired to reinforce the structure. Shortly after the work began, reports of unusual disturbances followed.

[What is your next move?]

>>42810507
Time to wake Murk up and get the team ready. We're going to Hornburn village. Read the brief out to them when he's awake.

>>42810507
Looks like the decision which locals to engage with first has been made for us. Sounds like something's not a fan of construction in its home.
How does this work anyways, are we supposed to do cases as they come in and patrols on the other nights? Did we get any unit leader instructions?

>>42810507
The temple that tarhounds, if the legend is to be trusted, can't enter? I forgot: is it normal for tarhounds and holy places, or does it make this temple special?

>>42810507
We should head out as early as we can to have time to talk to the locals before getting started with the temple assignment.

>>42810545
>>42810620
>>42810866
>>42811215

You check the envelope again, half expecting a set of instructions from the unit leader or at least a suggested plan. Nothing. Just the case sheet and the usual formalities.

Then it clicks.

You remember your old unit leader complaining,half joking, half exhausted,that HQ wanted units to have “more autonomy.” Which, translated from bureaucratic nonsense, really meant less work for HQ and more work shoved onto unit leaders.

Great.

Balancing fresh cases with nightly patrols is going to be a nightmare.

“Looks like we got our first case,” you announce, giving Murk a gentle nudge.

The batpony snorts and jerks upright, blinking blearily. “Is it sunset already?” he mutters.

“No, it’s the afternoon,” Vale corrects.

“Too early…” Murk grumbles, his eyelids drooping shut again.

“We have a case, Leather Wings…” Vale tugs his ear with her magic, earning a sleepy flick and a quiet hiss.

Doc slides a plate of food in front of him. “Come on now there ain’t no rest for the wicked, an’ sounds like it’s gonna be an early start for you.”

“Alright, alright, I’m awake…” Murk mutters. He peels the rasher of haybacon off his muzzle, gives it a suspicious look, then eats it in one bite. “So,” he says through a mouthful, “what’s the brief?”
You read out the brief as Murk starts eating his meal.

The four of you sit a moment of silence mulling over the details.

You break the silence and look at Murk, “The temple that tarhounds, if the legend from that book is to be trusted, can't enter?”

The bat pony chews his food for a moment, then swallows, “We don’t know much about Tarhounds due to a very limited survivor pool, but there is the claim of sanctuary that Sun and Moon temples uphold to this day.”

“It’s taken very seriously on the frontier, even a warrant from Celestia or Luna themselves cannot undo your claim to sanctuary.” Doc adds.

You try and think what the claim to sanctuary could be.

[What is your next move]

>>42811605
Sanctuary or not, I don't think we have to worry about any hounds here. Sounds like just disturbed spirits. But, we should start by interviewing the construction crew and then the temple staff before going down there to take a look.

>>42811605
We can either split, two ponies investigate the town while the other two sleep to patrol tonight, or we can all go to town together. Wait, I know this sinking feeling: is it one of these simple decisions that get super complicated if you understand the implications? How seriously should we treat patroling?

>>42811733
>>42811788

“Sanctuary or not, I don’t think we need to worry about any hounds. This sounds like a regular disturbed-spirits case,” you say. “But we should start simple,interview the construction crew, then the temple staff, before going down there.”

Everyone nods.

“And we need a plan for the day,” you continue. “We can either split up—two ponies investigate the town while the other two sleep for tonight’s patrol—or we go together.” A prickling unease crawls up your spine. “How seriously should we take those patrol warnings?”

“Well, technically, we don’t have any patrols,” Vale says, waving a hoof. “Those weird notes on the back of the form aren’t real orders.”

“Feels like you’re splitting hairs there, Vale,” Doc rumbles. “Marrow, cases come first, then patrols. HQ won’t kick up a fuss if you skip a patrol because of an active case.”

Murk finishes the last of his haybacon and eggs. “Patrols are usually just keeping tabs on residual hauntings and anomalies.”

“That’s not what this sounds like,” Doc counters. “Those warnings read like active hauntings.”

“But why nothing has been done about it is the real mystery,” you mutter. “Alright, let’s get suited up. I’ll head to the village temple and take a look.”

“Ah… maybe not me,” Murk says, lifting a hoof defensively. “It’s still daylight outside…”

You sigh. You meant to ask him about replacement glasses last night. “Where are your sunglasses?”

Murk fidgets, tapping the tips of his hooves together. “I… lost them.”

Vale rolls her eyes with her horn letting out a blue flash. A pair of red, heart-shaped sunglasses clatter onto the table in front of him.

“One, I’m not wearing those,” Murk protests. “And two,I didn’t think you’d own something like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vale snaps, ears pinning back.

“Well you seem…” Murk stops himself at her expression. “Nevermind.”

You decide it’s best to intervene before an argument breaks out.

“Alright,” you say firmly, “we’re splitting the team into two.”

[Who are you going to take with you.]
[First post decides]
1.Vale.
2.Doc.
3.Murk

>>42811980
Vale
Defuse the tension and because she's likely the most useful for finding out why the spirits are miffed.

>>42811980
>>42812025
Agreed, take Vale. We'll try to get Murk some sunglasses in the village and him and Doc can do some more research on the hauntings in the meantime, since he fell asleep with the book the stories must've been engaging. If they make good progress they can start work on a patrol route or list which hauntings we should look at first. We'll also check out the songbird tree, take some measurements and maybe Vale can get a recording.

>>42811980
>>42812194
Plus we'll have Doodles with us. She might see something we can't.

>>42812025
>>42812194
>>42812209
“Vale, you’re with me.” You rise from the sofa. “Doc, Murk continues research into the moors, if you make good progress then start work on a patrol route.” You turn to the unicorn, “Full equipment, Vale.”

Doc starts gathering plates. “Let me wash these before we go”

A bright blue flash engulfs the dishes.

“Done,” Vale chirps, already heading upstairs.

“You could’ve carried them with you!” Doc shouts after her. The plates vanish from his hooves in a second blue flash. He sighs. “Unicorns…”
“You’re telling me,” Murk mutters, grudgingly slipping the heart-shaped sunglasses onto his muzzle.

“You look ridiculous,” Doc deadpans.

Leaving the two stallions, you head up to your room on the top floor. You slip into your gear: the padded vest lined with Your Ki-meter, Epon Salt, your glowsticks, hoofpick, chalk, and your saltblaster. With everything secured, you trot back downstairs.

Vale is already waiting at the bottom, fully suited up. Beside her sits a long, slightly scuffed wooden box strapped to her saddlebags. The enchantments along its surface flicker faintly with her aura.

You open the front door and step outside. The air is cool and faintly damp, the sky a blanket of overcast grey with the sun making a half-hearted attempt to slip through the seams in the clouds. You and Vale head down the cobbled path, boots tapping lightly as you pass the tall hedgerows flanking the entrance.

Both of you pause.

The leaves rustle softly in the breeze, nothing more. No shifting, no whispering, no subtle distortions. Just hedges being hedges. You trade a glance, a silent good, before continuing west along the dirt road.

Fields stretch out on either side behind old, weather-worn fences. Beyond them, the long grass of the moors rolls away to the mountains on the horizon, rippling like a muted green sea.

You think back to the map you found earlier. If your memory’s right, it’s about a ten-minute walk to the village. As you walk, you glance over at Vale, there's a faint red light pulsing behind her.

“Alright, the silence is killing me,” Vale finally says.

“It’s only been, what… two minutes?” you reply.

“Well, I don’t want this turning into some awkward, silent trek through the moors.” She flicks her tail and looks ahead down the road. “So let’s break the ice. What did you do before joining PHEER?”

[First poster Roll 1d5]
1.Retail Assistant +1 Luck, +1 Strength
2.Janitor +2 Strength
3.Coffin maker +2 Skill
4.Unemployed +2 Autism
5.Graveyard Groundskeeper +2 Luck

Rolled 1 (1d5)

>>42812389
surely not...

>>42812393
lmao ffs

File: epic_dash.png (129 KB, 971x880)

129 KB PNG

>>42812389
If you pull that ring off, would you be able to be possessed by Doodles? Not that I'm suggesting that, I'm just wondering how susceptible to spiritual shenanigans magic conduits are exactly.

>>42812393
IT KEEPS HAPPENING

>>42812406
Our fate truly is locked.

>>42812393

[NEW LASS STATS]
Luck - 7
Autism - 2
Skill - 3
Strength - 4

“Retail assistant,” you mutter. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it paid the bills. Mostly. After surviving a single Black Friday, though, you quit on the spot. You still remember the thousand-yard stare of a blood-splattered green stallion working the neighbouring store as you both left the mall that night.
Neither of you said a word.
Neither of you had to.
You had both seen things.

“Really?” Vale raises her brows. “With a name like yours, I expected something more macabre. Graveyard shift, morgue attendant, corpse-arranger… something spooky.”
You smirk and shake your head. “Nope. My parents were funeral directors, sure—but that line of work never grabbed me. I was more interested in what happens after you’re dead and gone, you know?”

Vale chuckles. “That actually explains how you ended up here…”

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “I saw a job posting on a board one night and thought: Well, it can’t be worse than retail.”

This earns you a proper laugh from Vale. “That bad, was it?”

You glance at the ground, not wanting to spoil her mood with a thousand-yard stare.

“Yeah… pretty much.” You force a small smile. “What about you? You mentioned you dropped out of college.”

“I’ve done a few jobs here and there.” Vale shrugs. “Funny thing, my parents actually tried sending me to the School of Gifted Unicorns.”

“I wondered about your magic,” you say. “I’ve been told object teleportation is a complicated spell to pull off.”

“Pfftt.” Vale waves a hoof dismissively. “When you understand everything is frequencies, it’s easy. You just match the frequency of the object’s material with your magic, add a little spatial adjustment, and poof, it’s somewhere else.” She explains it as casually as talking about boiling water.

“I have no idea what you just said,” you admit, shaking your head. “So what happened? Why didn’t you go?”

“Let’s just say I didn’t fit in with the snooty Canterlot unicorns.” Vale flicks her tail. “They didn’t get my interest in extreme precision telekinesis. They assumed I’d drop out anyway… like I did in regular college.” She sighs.

“Yet you still ended up in PHEER doing your talent” you say.

Vale nods. “Yeah. Well, at least the snootiness is zero, and management’s so incompetent they stay out of your mane.” She smirks. “And the pay’s good.”

You nod in agreement looking ahead,and spot a lone tree standing beside the brook, its branches twisted in all directions.

You stop walking. “That must be the Songbird Tree.”

Your eyes follow the bend in the path, a little farther ahead, the old stone bridge rises in a gentle arch over the water, moss clinging to its sides like a permanent shawl. Beyond it, just visible, sits the village of Hornburn

[What is your next move?]
1. Continue to Hornburn Village
2. Investigate the tree.

>>42812543
We can spare a little time Investigate the tree.

Rolled 4 (1d5)

>>42812558
You cross the bridge, circling back toward the tree. Even from a distance you can see where the bark has blackened, charred long ago by some forgotten fire. The air grows still as you approach, a strange hush settling over the brook and the path behind you.
An uneasy chill creeps under your vest, nothing overt, just that quiet pressure of being watched by something that isn’t there.

You lift your gaze to the twisted branches.

Perched on one of them is a single, tiny bird. It finishes its song with a soft trill, then flutters away into the grey daylight, leaving the tree silent.

[Roll Strength or Autism]

Rolled 2 (1d4)

>>42812587
We stronk

Rolled 5 (1d5)

>>42812587
Rolling for Vale

>>42812587
>>42812589
>>42812593

You glance over to Vale. She circles the trunk with intent, inspecting every crack and knot in the bark. You can’t help wondering what exactly she thinks she’s doing. It’s just a tree. Is she trying to impress you? Show initiative? Or is she just… like this?

Then she pulls out her Ki-meter, holding it carefully in her hoof.

“I thought I’d have to remind you not to use your magic to hold the Ki-meter…” you say, unable to stop the comment from slipping out. You’re starting to suspect this unicorn is going to require a lot more foalsitting than you planned. You should’ve brought Murk. Definitely not Doc, he’s too old and too slow for this kind of legwork.

Vale turns toward you, brow creased in mild offence.

“Yeah, I know. My magic would interfere with the Zen readings.”

[First three posts Roll max on any dice]

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>42812619
Any? Low tism to the rescue.

>>42812644
It should been First three post Roll max on any dice or until max roll achieved

[NEW LASS STATS]
Luck - 7
Autism - 3
Skill - 3
Strength - 4

Vale huffs and shakes her head at you. “Are you really getting fooled by intrusive thoughts?”

Your eyes widen. It’s like an angry fog lifts from your mind in an instant, your chest lightens, your thoughts clear, and the sudden guilt hits hard.

“Vale… I’m—”

She cuts you off with a short laugh. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been getting negative thoughts about you and Doc too. Strangely not about Murk though.”

“Same here. I wanted him here instead of you,” you admit, the words feeling heavier now that you hear them aloud.

Vale gives a curt nod. “Right. So whatever’s affecting us? The ring on my horn only resisted it just enough that the thoughts I had were,well,obviously not mine. Completely foreign.”

She taps the metal band around her horn, her ears angling back uneasily.
It didn’t block them,” she continues, “just… blurred them. Like hearing somepony else whispering inside my head and trying to pass it off as me.”

You exhale slowly, “Great. So the tree’s haunted and psychic.”

Vale snorts. “Yeah. And apparently it thinks we’d make terrible coworkers.”

You manage a weak laugh, but your gaze drifts back up to the twisted, blackened branches.
The silence around the tree feels thicker now.

[What is your next move?]

>>42812693
Or likes bat ponies. Ask Doodles if she can see anything.

>>42812693
According to the legend, a bat mare was hanged here, so maybe that's why it prefers bats.
What do the measurements say since Vale's a frequency freak I want to ask if she's modified her meter to filter out her own frequencies if such a thing is possible at a later point?
Also ask Doodles if the spook is affecting her. Maybe she's feeling like she should suck us dry in the not good way after all, or that she should attach to chadbat Murk instead.

>>42812777
>>42812881

“You see anything, Doodles?” you call, spotting a faint red light drifting around the tree.

“Wait, Doodles is here?” Vale snaps her attention toward you.

“Well, yeah. She followed us,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Vale groans and fumbles with the dial on her Ki-meter. “Dammit, Marrow, you have to mention that. Otherwise, we get false positives.”
The red light loops around the tree one more time before Doodles fully manifests in the air ahead of you. She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she reports.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Normal,” Doodles replies, settling slowly onto all four hooves.

“Are you having bad thoughts about me?” you press.

You hear Vale give a short smirk, overhearing the one sided conversation.

Doodles’ ghostly cheeks blaze a hot pink. “In Luna's name Marrow! You know I’m dead, right?”

“What?” You pause as it dawns on you what you just said. “No! I mean… like hating me or something,” you clarify

“N-no, I haven’t” Doodles stammers avoids eye contact with you. Clearly still flustered by your question.

"Vale, measurements now please..." You mutter unsure how to navigate this situation.

“Oh, I wish I knew what she’s saying right now,” Vale laughs, eyeing the Ki-meter again as the needle settles. “Alright… now that I’ve factored Doodles in, I’m getting nothing.”

“According to the legend, a bat mare was hanged here… maybe that’s why it targets non-bats,” you muse aloud. “I was expecting her spirit to linger.”

“Well, there’s no spirit here,” Vale corrects herself, “No spirit other than Doodles.”

Vale circles the tree and stops beside it, frowning. “Just got a tiny tau spike… and another one. It’s like a pulse,barely registering on the Ki-meter, but it’s there.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42813074
Seems harmless enough to leave be for now. We'll ask about it in the village, but we do have an assignment from HQ to take care of right now.
It's a bat anyways so it should be more active at night. We'll have another look on the way back.

>>42813074
A tau pulse? Is that a thing? Interesting. Can you pin-point a specific spot where it's strongest?

>>42813074
Maybe it's the tree itself.

>>42813074
First day here, Vale finds herself a musical anomaly. I'm jealous. An empty steady rhythm, no modulation or anything? The bat in the story liked to sing, maybe that's the key. Or maybe we have to sing to it to be sung back. Can Vale quickly teleport the book of moor songs here so we could look at the contexts? Or maybe the dormant spirit only wishes to communicate to bats.
If there's really no spirit in it, the the curse is on autopilot, and if it can't be physically destroyed (the burn marks may be from Y's attempting it), then all we can do is measure its strength every few days do be warned if and when it decides to spread out. How difficult it can be to make a tiny Ki-meter that we could bury here and watch and record its readings from the base, like a remote sensor? How impossible it would be to build an entire grid of such sensors?

>>42813678
Could be something Vale could work on if we give her some time in the future.

Boop

>>42813120
>>42813151
>>42813678

“A pulse?” you ask. “Can you pinpoint where it’s strongest?”

Vale circles the tree again. “Here. It’s funny, it's ticking like a metronome.” She taps her hoof and silently mouths numbers as she counts. “Whatever’s causing it, it’s in four-four,” she finishes with a short laugh.

“An empty, steady rhythm then?” you ask.

Vale nods. “A steady beat of dark magic. Now I’ve seen everything…”

“Seems harmless enough to leave for now,” you decide. “We’ll ask around in the village. We’ve still got an assignment from HQ, and if this is tied to that executed bat legend, it’ll probably get more active at night. We can check again on our way back.”

“Sure,” Vale says, tucking the Ki-meter away.

She trots up beside you as you head toward the village. A few minutes later, a small stone building comes into view,its entrance flanked by two royal guards in golden armor. A sign above them marks it as the village barracks. Judging from its size, it barely houses a few soldiers.

As you pass, both guards eye you warily.

“Great. More weirdos,” one mutters. “Probably here for whatever that crazy bat is hosting at the inn…”

He’s promptly thumped in the ribs by the guard beside him.

“They’re PHEER operatives, you idiot. Go tell the captain the new spooks have arrived.”

“Is it even legal for them to open carry those frontier weapons in the village?” the first guard whispers, glancing at the gear on your back.

“For-” The second guard cuts himself off with a sigh. “Yes. Now go. And for Celestia’s sake, stay out of their way.”

The chastised guard trots around the side of the barracks and slips inside.

You glance at Vale; she clearly heard the whole thing. She just shrugs.

[What is your next move?]

>>42815224
Head to the temple. See if the construction crew are still around.

>>42815224
Tell the guards there's four operatives total and that we're based in the same cottage as the old unit.
Then ask where we could find the construction crew who reported that the temple basement is haunted.

>>42815285
>>42815328

As you pass, both guards eye you warily.

“Great. More weirdos,” one mutters. “Probably here for whatever that crazy bat is hosting at the inn…”

He’s promptly thumped in the ribs by the guard beside him.

“They’re PHEER operatives, you idiot. Go tell the captain the new spooks have arrived.”

“Is it even legal for them to open carry those frontier weapons in the village?” the first guard whispers, glancing at the gear on your back.

“For-” The second guard cuts himself off with a sigh. “Yes. Now go. And for Celestia’s sake, stay out of their way.”

The chastised guard trots around the side of the barracks and slips inside.

You glance at Vale; she clearly heard the whole thing. She just shrugs.

You turn to the remaining guard, “It’s probably worth telling the captain. We’re the new Unit Y, based out of the old cottage.”

The guard squints at you both.

“There’s only two of you?”

“Four,” you correct him. “The others are back at base.”

“Well… thanks for the heads-up. And welcome to Hornburn.” His expression softens. “News about the old unit hit the locals hard. Be good to them, they’re good ponies.”

“Where can we find the construction crew who reported the temple basement is haunted?” you ask.

The guard snorts, shaking his head. “Sweet Celestia… the way those stallions were screaming and sprinting out of that place, I thought Hornburn was under attack.” He points a hoof past you. “You’re in luck. We’ve been keeping an eye on Blessed Ashes and Rounded Screw over there. They’ve been arguing for a while now.”

You turn your head.
Across the street stands a white-walled building, cleaner than anything else in sight. The paint is fresh, edges crisp, the stone steps scrubbed recently. A golden Celestian sun crest hangs above the doors, glinting even in the dim, cloud-strained light.

It’s modest for a temple: only two stories, with a simple bell tower rising above the roofline. A bronze bell rests still, its rope swaying lazily in the open arch.

Two stallions stand arguing at the doors.

“The one in the builder’s hat is Rounded Screw,” the guard adds. “He owns the construction company renovating the place.”

You thank him and head up the short stone steps.

The stallion who you presume is Blessed Ashes, is a unicorn in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His look is more “failed business pony” than “holy clergy.” A cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth, trailing a thin ribbon of smoke. His coat is a muted brown, his black mane dishevelled like he only gave it one half-hearted pass with his hoof this morning.

>>42815441
A white collar hangs loose around his neck, as if it's more accessory than uniform. The small Celestian crest pinned to it is the only thing confirming he’s temple staff at all.

Rounded Screw shoves his yellow builder’s hat back and lets out an exasperated huff.

“With all due respect, Father, my crew is about ready to walk out of the job. And isn’t banishing evil spirits supposed to be your department?”

Blessed Ashes sighs as a bit of ash drops to the floor. His voice comes out flat, almost bored.

“I’m a priest, not an exorcist. My job is to remind ponies that Celestia loves us all.” He takes a long drag, then exhales. “Besides, weren’t you the one insisting ghosts aren’t real?”

“Oh for the love of-” Rounded Screw jabs a hoof at the door behind them, “My stallions are tough. Whatever’s down there has them bawling like foals. All I’ve heard in the office this week is ‘ghost this, spirit that.’”

[What is your next move?]

>>42815445
Introduce ourselves and ask for an account of events and what construction exactly is happening.
Also note to ourselves to check out what that crazy bat is hosting at the inn.

>>42815445
Tell Blessed Ashes were the investigators he requested and find out why he called us.

>>42814582

>>42816551

>>42815493
>>42815538
You approach the two stallions and wait until both finally turn their attention toward you.
You address the unicorn first.

“I presume you’re the head priest who filed the haunting report? I’m Marrow, and this is Vale. We’re with PHEER.”

Blessed Ashes looks between you and Vale, then lets out a long, relieved sigh.
“I am. And thank Celestia you’re here, I was starting to worry they weren’t going to send a replacement at all.”

Rounded Screw squints. “What’s PHEER?”

“Paranormal investigators,” Vale answers dryly.

The construction pony raises his brows, then snorts. “You know what? Whatever.”

He turns, already descending the stairs with heavy steps.

“If it’s enough to convince my crew to stop screaming, get back to work, and actually finish this project, then fine by me.”

You all watch Rounded Screw disappear down the street.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s a good stallion.” Blessed Ashens speaks up, “He just wants to see this project finished and his ponies paid.”

You turn back to the priest, “I was hoping to speak to him more, or at least get more information from his staff.”

“I can at least tell you what’s been happening,” he says. He finally finishes his cigarette, which vanishes in a brief yellow flash of magic, scattering into harmless sparks. “Follow me.”

The priest pushes open the heavy dark-blue door, and you and Vale step inside after him.

The temple is modest but dignified. Rows of old oak pews line the stone slab floor, leading all the way up to the altar. The altar itself is draped in a clean white cloth, flanked by two burning candles and crowned with a golden centerpiece shaped like the Celestian sun.

Light spills through the stained-glass windows, painting the floor and walls in shifting rainbows. Each window depicts a past Bearer of the Elements of Harmony, their names rendered in ancient Equestrian script.
Blessed Ashes stops halfway down the aisle, and the three of you pause there, framed by the twin rows of pews stretching out on either side.

From the front pews, you catch the low murmur of voices. A mule mare sits near the altar, quietly reading while a few young foals play with wooden toys at her hooves, their laughter soft and echoing faintly through the vaulted hall.

A faint red glimmer drifts into view,Doodles’ light,hovering curiously around the foals. They don’t seem to notice her, but she circles them with gentle curiosity.

>>42817394
You keep an eye on her, just in case.

Blessed Ashes glances over his shoulder at them, then back to you and Vale.

“The hall itself is safe from spirits, I can guarantee there's none up here.” he says quietly. “I’ve salted the stairs leading down to the basement, and I’ve got sage burning in the crawlspace that leads toward the crypts.”

He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’d normally prefer the building cleared during an investigation… But when I took charge of this temple, I made to swear I wouldn’t drive anypony out of these doors. Not unless their lives were in immediate danger.”

“Can you tell us exactly what construction is happening?” You ask.

The priest nods, “The temple is subsiding, I suspect the crypts under the temple are starting to collapse. I had builders in to restore some of the foundations and add more support to the lower floors.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42817396
Good thinking about the salt and sage. Have the construction ponies said anything specific about what scared them down there? Anything in the history of the crypt or who's buried down there that stands out to you? My first assumption would be something just doesn't like being disturbed, but you never know.

>>42817432
“Good thinking with the salt and sage,” you say. “Have the construction ponies mentioned anything specific about what scared them?”

“It began with workers complaining about being watched,” Blessed Ashes explains. “Soon nopony would go down there alone. Once they crawled into the narrow crawl space to inspect the subsidence, things escalated,tools flung across the room, strange humming, pokes, tugging at their manes…”

As he speaks, you notice a young pegasus filly wander away from the group. Her ears droop as she climbs onto the front pew, sitting apart from the other foals. Doodles’ red glow drifts after her, hovering nearby

“Anything in the history of the crypt?” you ask.

“Well they say Hornburn is built on the ashes of revenge. Even this temple sits on another. Some claim it’s an old Lunite temple that was razed during the civil war. Others claim it’s even older, pre-unification even, thanks to an oubliette discovered down there.”

You ask another question “who’s buried down there,that stands out to you?”

The crypts hold the last mayor of Hornburn, several early post-unification royal guards, and a handful of noble unicorns.”

You nod with your ear flicking. “My first thought is that something down there just doesn’t like being disturbed…”

“I can’t say who’s restless and who isn’t,” Blessed Ashes replies. “All I know is that it goes quiet when I invoke Celestia’s name. But whatever’s down there won’t cross the veil or lay to rest.”

>>42817557
[what is your next move?]

>>42817557
Last Mayor of Hornburg. That's in Moor Legends and Myths. Is there a copy of that book somewhere around? It's better than no leads and I'd rather not go back to base for it.

>>42817560
Ask him what he knows about the last mayor of Hornburn.

>>42817557
So it has a reaction to Celestia, hard to tell whether that's respect, fear, or something else though. Have you tried invoking Luna to see if the reaction changes? Do you know if there's bats among the construction crew and if they get a different reception?
You seem to have some legit experience with the paranormal, is that part of the spiritual training or have you picked it up elsewhere?

>>42817661
It seems like a fairly harmless spook so far so I think gathering info now, maybe trying to get something on the speaker, and coming back with a plan next night would be fine. That'd also let us do a round of the town and locals and check the tree again. I'm not opposed to trying to solve it now but that's what I'd do.

>>42817557
Ask Blessed if the upset filly needs his attention. We can't know what's going on with her, but his duties to the congregation take priority over talking to us.
Is it the first time the crypts get reinforced since the civil war? Does the church keep records about previous hauntings?
Is it known what gods were worshiped here before Luna? What's the deal with the oubliette, is it the only clue about the most ancient ritual building at this spot? Who can tell us more about it?
Was it a transgression when the priest in the legend exiled that sick (contagious?) pony, or do priests get to decide whom to accept? I was thinking, maybe this story was written during a change of culture. The mare represents one set of rules about hospitality, and the priest, the other. Plagues can have this effect.
Why did he ask PHEER? Doesn't the church have its own exorcists? Can it be because the previous unit Y was good at its job?

Bump

Boop

>>42817661
>>42817749
>>42817901
>>42818500

“What about Luna? Have you tried invoking her name?” you ask.

The priest shakes his head. “The nobles buried down there lived during the civil war. If I call upon Luna, they might interpret it as invoking Nightmare Moon. I’d rather not have the spirits think I’m an enemy.”

“How many times have I heard exorcists run into that exact conundrum,” Vale mutters under her breath.

“Do you know if there are any bats among the construction crew? And if so, whether they’re treated differently?” you ask.

“As far as I’m aware, it’s only earth ponies and unicorns,” he replies.

“And this ‘last Mayor of Hornburn’… I found it mentioned in a book, but never got around to reading it,” you continue.

Blessed Ashes exhales, “That’s a tale best told over a few ales. The short version is this: shortly after the civil war, The Hornburn Mayor was found dead with four nobles, legend has it they were all beaten and bruised beyond recognition.”

“What happened to them?” Vale asks quietly.

Blessed Ashes shifts his weight, ears tilting back a little.

“You know that little bridge that crosses the brook? You must’ve crossed it coming in from the cottage.”

“We crossed it,” Vale confirms.

“Well…” He draws in a slow breath through his nose. “The tale goes, they were all found there,every one of them. Standing in the shallows with bloodied hooves. Their faces twisted with pure hatred.”

The priest’s voice drops lower.

“No wounds. No signs of struggle. Just… rage. Frozen on their muzzles like something had hollowed them out and left only that behind.”

“You seem to have a bit of familiarity with the paranormal,real experience,” you say. “Is that part of the temple’s spiritual training, or did you pick it up elsewhere?”

Blessed Ashes blinks, as if the question hit him sideways. For a heartbeat, he almost looks accused.

“No, no,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “As you progress through the temple, you pick these things up. Comes with the teachings.”

You’re not convinced. Something about him feels… practiced. Like he’s wearing a version of himself meant for public viewing.

Your attention drifts back to Doodles, now seated beside the filly. The little one is half-hidden behind her hoof, giggling at whatever Doodles just whispered.

>>42822327
“That filly over there,” you say, gesturing subtly. “She seemed upset earlier.”

Blessed Ashes follows your gaze, relief briefly flickering across his face,at least until he recognizes the filly.

“That’s Feather Fall,” he says softly. “She didn’t take the news about the old local P.H.E.E.R. unit very well. Her step-brother served in that unit…”

“Poor thing…” Vale murmurs.

Blessed Ashes takes a few steps down the aisle. “Feather, are you alright?”

The filly peeks up, smiling shyly. “I’m okay, Mister Ashes. I was laughing at a funny joke.”

“It’s good to see you smile again,” he says, his horn lighting as a pocket watch floats free from his shirt. He glances at it and mutters, “Ah, shoot, three o’clock. I’ve got that bell ringing…”

The mule mare at the front finally lifts her eyes from her book. With a gentle sigh, she closes it and claps her hooves together.

“Alright, colts and fillies, let’s get you home for your parents. Toys away! Come on, sweet-sweet.”

Blessed Ashes turns back to you and Vale. “I’ve got duties to attend to. You both have full access to the temple,these doors stay open for any lost soul seeking harmony, day or night.”

He nods politely, then trots toward the altar. He pauses to gesture.

“The door to the basement and crypts is on the left.”

He opens a door to the right, revealing a narrow staircase. “This one leads to my office and the bell tower.”

“Thank you,” you say.

He gives another short nod before disappearing into the stairwell, the door closing softly behind him.

[What is your next move?]

>>42822330
We should check out downstairs. Take some readings. Ask Vale if she's picked anything up. When we're alone ask Doodles what she was telling the filly.

>>42822330
Don't get too comfortable down there. I don't think the spirit is dangerous on its own, but it is possible that it tried to warn the builders about something else.

>>42822330
There seems to be something the priest isn't telling us right now about his spirit dealings but I think we can let him keep that to himself for now. Something to discreetly ask the townsfolk about.

>>42822330
The filly can hear spirits. We should ask if she can see them as well. Good thing we have something to test it out with right with us.

>>42822356
>>42822474
>>42822483

He gives another short nod before disappearing into the stairwell, the door closing softly behind him.
You start walking toward the altar. “Let’s get some readings now, and tonight we’ll investigate.”

You barely make it three steps before a blur of purple fur and feathers shoots past your hooves. A filly barrels straight into the mule watching over the foals, nearly bowling her over.

“Feather Fall! Watch where you’re going!” the mule scolds, steadying herself. She lifts her long brown fringe out of her eye and gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hoof. “Foals are going to foals.”

“Whoa! It’s an agent!” A little blue colt trots right up to you, eyes wide.

You glance down to find a dozen curious faces gathered around your hooves.

“Operative,” you correct him gently. “I’m an operative.”

Vale snorts a laugh. “Agents are classified.”

“Claas-if-fried?” the colt repeats, trying to puzzle it out.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “It’s just a joke.”

Feather Fall slips in beside the group, beaming. “The kind batpony operative has funny jokes!”

“Where’s the batpony?!” a unicorn filly squeals, hopping in place.

“She’s over,” Feather Fall turns, then frowns. “Oh. Where did she go?”

“Alright, you lot, let the kind stallion do his job! We need to be going. Come, come!” the mule calls out, herding the foals away. She mouths a silent sorry to you as the tiny hooves clatter after her.

The temple door closes with a soft thud, leaving just you, Vale, and the hovering red dot of Doodles.

You make a mental note to ask the filly later about whatever Doodles had been whispering to her.

Turning toward the door on the left side of the altar, you push it open. A narrow stone staircase waits behind it, cold air spilling up from below.

“Vale, with me,” you call.

Together you descend the tight steps. The first lower floor opens into the basement—mostly empty, the kind of storage room temples forget they have. Spare pews lean against the walls, stacked chairs gather dust, and a few folded tables crowd the corners.

You’re about to move on when something on the far wall catches your eye.
A portrait of Celestia.

Not the usual heroic depiction,not the gleaming golden armor, not the sweeping wings posed before a blazing sun, nor the stern blade held aloft in righteous judgment.

This one is different.

She stands solemn, almost fragile, her expression soft rather than commanding. A simple sword hovers above her head, but there is no grandeur to it,only quiet purpose, a weight she seems tired of carrying.
A far cry from the images most ponies know.

You hear Vale’s voice from behind. “Ki, Zen, and Tau all normal.” He snorts, then coughs. “Yeah… someone’s been burning sage down here.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42822534
Cute. Does this painting have a name?

>>42822534
They should replace that painting with one of both sisters since they are together again.
Either way, let's go further down and keep taking readings.

>>42822534
Look for any other strange details in the painting quickly. Move on if nothing stands out.

>>42822595
Considering what the priest said earlier, that might actually get you some extra poltergeists.

>>42820957

>>42822575
>>42822665
>>42822595

You take a brief moment to look at the details of the painting, you step closer, you were mistaken the sword isn’t hovering, but a single thread holds the sword above Celestia's head. You glance down at the text in the corner of the painting.
By an equines hair - White Spirit

You tear your eyes from the painting and scan the basement, remembering Blessed Ashes mentioning a crawl space. After checking along the three stone walls, you spot an old wooden door tucked into the far corner, so small, crooked and faded it almost blends into the masonry.

You walk over and pull it open.

A wave of sage rolls out, thick enough to sting your nostrils. You lower your head and peer inside. The crawl space stretches back a few yards, timber beams pressing low overhead, shadows swallowing the far end. Even with your eyes straining, you can’t quite make out what waits on the other side.

[What is your next move?]

>>42824722
Just like Ashes told us. By the way, were we careful to not bother his salt lines earlier?
Do the routine: listen to the ghost speaker, measure the fields, especially around the painting. If there's nothing here, light a glowstick and follow the crawl space. Try not to fall into any oubliettes.

>>42824722
An interesting painting to have in a temple. I wonder if Ashes knows anything about White Spirit.
Call out to the spirit and ask what has it so aggravated.

>>42824775
>>42824878

“Just like Ashes told us,” you mutter as you straighten up. The salt on the stairs; how did that slip your mind? You glance toward the narrow stone steps and spot it at last: a thin, careful line poured into the corner where the final stair meets the floor. Placed perfectly so a pony could step over it without noticing.

You look a little higher up the stairwell.

Doodles hovers there, frowning down at the salt, wings half-spread in discomfort.
“Sorry there, Doodles,” you say quietly. “I can break the salt line and relay it when we’re finished here.”

Vale follows your gaze toward the stairs and snorts. “Honestly, Marrow, I’m glad you don’t do stuff like this in public…”

Doodles only shakes her head, her ghostly ears folding back. “There’s no point. The sage will be even harder to avoid.” Her form flickers faintly, a soft red shimmer around the edges. “And please, don’t linger near it for too long. My attachment to you is already slowly weakening.”

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

You take out your Ki meter, calibrate it, then flick on the spirit box. Static crackles sharply from the speaker. Vale flinches, then exhales through her nose.

“Sorry,” she mutters. “Static makes me jumpy, especially in a stone room like this.”
“You can wait by the stairs if you want,” you offer.

With the box still hissing faintly, you make a slow circuit around the basement, pausing at the painting before checking each corner. Ki remains a steady zero.

You tuck the spirit box into your vest, then pull out a glowstick. A quick snap,crack,and the green light blooms. You slide it into the loop on your vest and head toward the crawlspace.
“I’ll take a quick look,” you call back. “Won’t be long.”

“Sure… Uh, is Doodles with me?” Vale’s voice carries a thin edge of worry.
“She’s on the stairs. She can’t cross the salt line,” you answer, squeezing into the crawlspace. “I’ll call if I need you.”

Your gear scrapes against the tight stone walls as you shuffle forward on your belly. The spirit box’s static crackles and warbles, echoing unnervingly through the cramped passage. Your glowstick casts a narrow green tunnel ahead, stretching long, distorted shadows that crawl behind you. After a few yards, the space widens, and you pull yourself out into a small chamber.

You rise to your hooves and glance around.

An ancient stone staircase spirals down into the dark.

>>42824950
[What is your next move?]

>>42824952
Hmmm. Can we see anything down the stairs? Let Vale know what we can see.

>>42824952
Take a quick look around and check the readings. Is there anything besides the staircase? Ashes said the workers got harassed in the crawlspace already so if there's nothing here I think we should head back for now. The sage might've driven the spirit back down the crypt but we shouldn't go there alone.

>>42825112
>>42825117
“Vale?” You call through the crawlspace, “Can you hear me?”

“I can,” Vale replies.

“There’s a staircase, I can’t see where it goes. But I presume it’s to the crypts below.” You say, “I’m taking some reading and I’ll be back.”

You pull your ki-meter back out, the spirit speaker continues to hum and crackle. You adjust the dials to calibrate it, then glance at the indicators. Nothing. But you can’t shake the feeling of something down there.

You take one last look around before you return through the crawlspace, as you turn an engraving on the wall piques your curiosity. You shine your glowstick light on it, the green light shines on the symbol, it’s a one you recognize. It’s a crest of Luna.

Your ear flicks as you try to make sense of it, if the ancient part of the temple is to Luna then why would post civil war nobles be buried here? You check the engraving again, the oddest part isn't defiled.

You turn away from the engraving and crawl back through the narrow crawlspace.

Vale is still by the stairs, as Doodles bats playfully at her ear, making her look around.

“I’m back,” you announce, stepping up to join them.

“Find anything? Besides another stairway?” Vale asks, glancing down at you.

“There’s a crest of Luna engraved on the wall,” you reply.

Vale furrows her brow. “Well, Blessed Ashes Lunite temple, so… maybe that explains it.”

“That may be true,” you say, “but from what I know of history, every Luna crest, portrait, and statue was desecrated after the war.”

“So, what now?” Vale asks.

“I think we’ll come back tonight,” you reply. “For now, I want to take a look around the village before sunset.”

You climb the stairs, Vale and Doodles following close behind, and step out from behind the altar into the main hall.

[What is your next move?]

>>42825237
Check the temple doors for scratch marks. The temple from the story was probably still the Lunite one but hey might as well.
Then head into the village.

>>42825237
Perhaps the reason this temple was built upon the old one is that the old one was a lunite temple and couldn't be converted after the war. But might that mean the village originally sided with Nightmare Moon?

>>42825237
If someone knows about the old temple, it's got to be the "crazy bat"
Try to find this bap.

>>42825237
So that's why Ashes didn't want to get church exorcists involved.
Speaking of politics, it sounds like we owe a courtesy visit to the captain of the guard. Maybe after the inn bat.

>>42825323
>>42825463
>>42826049
>>42826121

You continue down the aisle and step out of the temple, pausing at the heavy blue door. As you pull it shut behind you, the afternoon light catches on the paintwork. Only then do you notice them, shallow impressions beneath the many layers of paint, long gouges arranged in sets of three. Claw marks. Dozens of them. Each one worn smooth by time, but unmistakably there.

Your ear twitches. For a moment, you imagine ghostly claws raking across the door, but it doesn’t add up. The legend speaks of Tarhounds, sure, but those things are spectres. Doors shouldn’t stop them.

Unless… the legend was built around scratches that were already here. A metaphor wrapped around a piece of history nopony remembered properly.

“They look like scratches,” Vale says quietly.

“I’m thinking the same thing,” you reply. “The legend says the mare was chased by Tarhounds, but those damned dogs can walk through walls.”

“Well, salt apparently stops them,” Vale points out.

“That’s not something I’m eager to test,” you mutter. After a moment of thought, you add, “Maybe Murk’s sanctuary theory fits here.”
You stare at the claw marks again. You have puzzle pieces, but none of them click.
“I’ve got nothing. Let’s get going.”

“Those written instructions are really getting to you, huh?” Vale says as she follows you down the steps and onto the street.

“The tree proves at least one haunting is real,” you reply, walking between the old stone buildings lining the street. “And you’re telling me that since the first Unit Y, nopony solved any of these cases? Or even forced them into dormancy?”

Vale hums thoughtfully as she trots beside you.

“Maybe we should pay the captain of the guard a courtesy visit,” you continue, “but first, those guards mentioned a crazy bat at the inn.”

“And… how is that a clue?” Vale asks, puzzled.

“Easy,” you say with a shrug. “Ponies anywhere between eccentric and outright unhinged somehow end up speaking the truth. They don’t mean to, they just do.”

You look up ahead. A large manor house sits in the distance at the village’s centre, its side wall painted with bold lettering proclaiming it an indoor market.

“You know,” Vale says with a grin, “I would love to hear what goes on in that head of yours.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t,” you reply. “It’s like an overcrowded jobs board,too many questions, not enough answers.”

You stop at a small three way crossroads. Thankfully, a weathered wooden signpost waits there, its arrows pointing in three directions:
South — Swirl Bridge
East — Barracks
West — The Inn

You turn toward the road leading west.

As you and Vale trot on, you glance left and notice a narrow storefront tucked between two taller buildings. The painted sign above its fogged windows reads The Old Book Shop in faded gold lettering.

>>42826645
Through the glass, you see a slightly plump earth pony mare, caramel-coated with a plated blonde mane, with oversized round glasses that make her eyes look overly large. She flips the sign from OPEN to CLOSED, then exits the shop, then lockers the store with an audible click.
Tucking her keys away, the mare trots past you with a polite but slightly awkward nod. She hesitates mid-step, glances back at you as if trying to place your face, then continues along the stone path that cuts through the grassy forecourt in front of the large manor.

You watch her make her way toward the inn on the far side of the green.

“Ah. I see,” Vale says, already suppressing a laugh.

“What?” you ask, turning to her.

“You like the bookworm type, huh? I saw you watching that rump bounce.” She smirks shamelessly.

“No, I was just looking around. That’s all.”

“Oh, right, ‘seeing what’s available,’ was it?” Vale snorts and breaks into outright laughter.

“Yeah-” You stop mid-word as the implication hits you. Your ear flicks. “No. Vale. I meant I’m looking at what’s in the village. It’s good to know there’s a bookshop here. They’re more useful than you think.”

“Sure they are,” she teases.

You turn toward the inn and start walking. “Come on. Let’s check the inn.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Vale says, falling into step behind you, still wearing that smug grin.

>>42826648

You approach the inn, a broad, weathered stone building built in the same style as the manor. It wouldn’t surprise you if they’d once been part of the same estate. A couple of old benches and mismatched tables sit outside beneath the windows, their wood worn smooth by years of rain and hooves.

A small sign leans against the wall beside the door. You pause to read it.

“Tonight: Jazz Macabre, hosted by Philo Belle.”

You tilt your head. “What’s Jazz Macabre?”

“It’s a subgenre of jazz,” Vale explains. “You take a tragedy and give it an upbeat tune.”

You stare at the sign, unimpressed. “That’s… a bit depressing.”

“Nah,” Vale says, waving a hoof. “They’re great to dance to. I listen to a bit of it.”

[What is your next move?]
1. Grab a drink talk to the locals.
2. Keep it professional, no drink, you here for work only.

>>42826672
Keep it professional now but tell Vale we can come back for a drink later. I'm sure she'll want to now. We should speak to Philo Belle then if they're not here now. Brio Belle was the retired operative I think.

>>42826672
Option 1

>>42826672
Get nonalcoholic beers ^:)

>>42826672
1. Grab a drink talk to the locals.

>>42826866
>>42826892
>>42826902
>>42826967

You push open the door and step inside. The inn is quiet. Directly ahead, an old oak bar stretches along the far wall, its shelves crowded with bottles and casks of every age and color. In front of it sit tables and chairs just as worn and timeless as the inn itself. Candlelight flickers along the walls, and a fire roars warmly in the hearth to your left.

To the right, the seating has been pushed back against the walls, clearing space for an impromptu dance floor before a small stage. On it rests a gem-ribbon microphone, a bass, and a weathered upright piano. Off to the side, a polished trumpet waits atop a lone stool.

“Cosy.” Vale mutters as she looks around heading directly for the bar.

You hold out a hoof, “Let’s stay professional, for now I want to talk to this Philo Belle, I have a hunch she’ll lead us to Brio Bell, that one operative who lived long enough to retire.”

“We will have a drink here later, for now get something non-alcoholic.” You order.

“Sure.” Vale continues to the bar with a disappointed huff.

You scan the room, taking in the handful of locals nursing their drinks. Behind the bar, you spot the mule from the temple,now in an apron, pouring an ale with practiced ease. The caramel mare from the bookshop is there too, chatting quietly with a pair of patrons.

Your gaze shifts to the stage. A batpony mare with a soft dark blue coat and a light pink mane, stands there with a mug in hoof. mid-yawn, she rubs her eyes as if she’s only just woken up or hasn’t slept at all. Even looking groggy, there’s something charming about her: the slight fang peeking when she yawns, the sway of her tail, and the barely-contained energy beneath her tired expression that hints she’ll come alive the moment the music starts.

You glance toward the fireplace, where three old stallions sit crowded around a circular table. Their manes have long since faded to shades of steel and snow, though each wears the grey differently. One that's broad-shouldered and square-jawed, keeping his mane cropped short, giving him the sturdy look of a retired guard.

The second is leaner, his mane long and wispy, tied back in a loose tail; his eyes have the sharp, restless glint of a pony who’s spent a lifetime on the road.

The third is the softest of the three, chubbby with a kind, tired face and a mane that curls at the ends like old paper left out in the rain.

All three clutch tankards of frothy beer, laughing quietly among themselves, the firelight painting their wrinkles in warm gold.

[What is your next move?]

>>42827152
Bap! Head over to the cute bat pony.

>>42827152
Go toward the stage where the bat pony mare is and spend time with her.

Rolled 1 (1d5)

>>42827361
>>42827428

“Past me is gonna get a stern talking-to for thinking it was a great idea to wake up early and set all this up…” the bat mare grumbles into her mug before taking a long, exhausted gulp. With the rim still pressed to her lips, her pink eyes slide toward you.

“I was hoping to get a moment of your time,” you say, taking a confident step closer.

“If you’re here for the show, it doesn’t start till seven.” She lowers her mug, her gaze tracking from the top of your head slowly downward. Her brow lifts. “That uniform… you’re a PHEER operative, right?”

“I am,” you reply.

She flicks her pink fringe out of her eyes with a quick toss of her head. "I'll give you a chance, What do you want?" Her gaze locks onto you, slow and deliberate, brimming with a confident curiosity that feels almost hungry.

[First post to roll strength dice]
[QM rolling strength for batpony's confidence]

[YOUR LASS STATS]
Luck - 7
Autism - 2
Skill - 3
Strength - 4

Rolled 2 (1d4)

>>42827547

>>42827558

A silent moment passes between you both.

You shrug, shaking off her piercing stare by tilting you head. “Just a few questions. Are you Philo Belle?”

The shift is instant, her confidence collapses like a house of cards. She drops onto her rump with a soft thud, “Y-yeah, I am. Sorry. My mother keeps telling me to act more confident, but… it really isn’t working, is it?”

You shake your head gently. “And you're hosting an event tonight?”

“I am,” she says, ears dipping. “I’m trying to lift the mood around here. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re a very tight-knit community… and the old Unit Y was a big part of that.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42827589
That sounds like a nice idea. And yeah, everypony's saying this is a good community so I was hoping to get to know it a little. Is this your first time performing?

>>42827589
We're doing our best to fill the old unit's shoes but they left no notes so it'll take a while. And HQ isn't helping with an immediate assignment. Still, we'll try to get the team together here to watch you later tonight if we manage to figure out what's haunting the temple in time.

>>42827589
We met Feather Fall earlier. Other than that, we know nothing about them.

>>42827637
>>42827658
>>42827719
“That sounds like a nice idea,” you say, glancing around at the other patrons. “Everypony keeps saying this is a good community, so I was hoping to get to know it a little.” You look back to her. “Is this your first time performing?”

Philo Belle nods slowly.

“The villagers love hearing me sing, but… I’ve never actually performed on a stage.” She goes quiet, eyes drifting toward the little platform with its microphone and instruments. “But it’s for the community. For these ponies I’d do anything.” Her voice softens. “And I hope your new unit fits in here too.”

“We’re doing our best to fill the old unit’s horseshoes,” you reply, rubbing the back of your neck. “But they left no notes, no case files… nothing. It’s going to take a while.” You sigh. “And HQ isn’t helping by dumping an urgent assignment on us the moment we arrive.”

Philo’s ears perk up,just a subtle shift, but full of attention.

“Still,” you continue, “we’ll try to get the team together tonight and watch you perform. If we can figure out what’s haunting the temple in time.”

“The temple is haunted?” Philo asks, “That would be the last place I suspect. What do you think it could be?”

“I’m not sure, been there earlier today, can’t say much as this is still a live case.” You say.

“I understand. So, have you met any pony around the village?”

“Just two of the guards. Blessed Ashes and Feather Fall, she was with that mule behind the bar.” you point in the direction of the mule who is talking to Vale at the bar.

“Oh that's Meadows, she runs the daygroup in the temple before coming here to work,” Philo trails off, her voice dipping.

“Well… at least Feather Fall is getting out of the house. Doesn’t do a pegasus do any good to stay cooped up like that.” She takes a small breath. “Losing her step-brother shook the poor filly to the core. And her mother… she’s running herself ragged. Staying awake during the day for Feather, then working nights just to keep things together all while grieving for her son.”

“I presume she’s a batpony?” You ask.

“She is.” Philo confirms, "There's a fair few of us here. Walk around at night and you'll see us.”

[What is you next move?]

>>42827762
Admit that we find her beauty alluring charming and hope we can spend time getting to know her more personally one -on-one after we watched her singing performance tonight.

>>42827762
How well do ponies here know about the paranormal? The workers who got spooked in the temple didn't seem to, but the priest certainly has some knowledge and with the old unit being so well known here I imagine ponies picked up some things. There also seem to be a couple fairly active spots around here, I imagine not everything is well obvious but the songbird tree right outside the village must be hard to miss.

>>42827793
No.

>>42827762
What was her step brothers name? We should check the wall to see if the latest unit has been added and then wonder who wrote them if they had a tpk

>>42827762
Flirt with Philo.

>>42827762
What were they like, the old unit Y?

>>42827908
Come on man we just told Vale that we're still on duty. At least wait until after the show.

>>42827908
Make it a compliment to get her spirits up rather than outright flirtation.

>>42827762
Lots of bats is good. Maybe you could point us to one who knows about the temple, or rather what it's built on top of.

>>42827793
>>42827815
>>42827872
>>42827908
>>42827935
>>42827942
>>42828416
>>42828701

“What was her step-brother’s name?” you ask.

“Astar Fall,” Philo replies quietly. “He was the youngest of the unit.”

You nod, then follow with another question. “What were they like, the old Unit Y?”

“They kept us all safe out on the moors,” she says, gaze softening with memory. “They knew Hornburn and the moors better than anypony.”

“How well do ponies here understand the paranormal? The workers who got spooked in the temple didn’t seem to,” you ask.

Philo lets out a long sigh. “The older ponies know the ways of the moorlands. They grew up with the stories,and the warnings. But the last two years…” She shakes her head. “We’ve had an influx of ponies from Baltimare and Canterlot looking for a ‘quiet life.’ Plenty of new homes going up on Songbird Way,that’s the road behind this inn.”

“I’m guessing there’ve been a few run-ins with the paranormal, then?” you ask. “That Songbird Tree outside the village must be hard to ignore.”

“There have been,” she admits. “Bless Ashes has been performing a blessing on that tree every single morning. It seems to help, there haven’t been any major incidents lately. Last week we just had two ponies arguing nearby. Thankfully, guards out on patrol was close enough to break it up before it escalated.”
“Bless Ashes certainly knows her craft,” you say. “And with the old unit being so rooted here, I imagine the locals learned a few things over the years.”

“Some have,” Philo says. “Because they saw things. Because they listened.” Her wings sag a little. “But the newer ponies… they don’t believe any of it. To them it’s just folklore. Superstition. They think we’re being dramatic when we try to warn them.” She looks toward the window, voice almost a whisper. “They just don’t understand Hornburn.”

The mentioning of Blessed Ashes brings your mind to the temple, “Can you could point us to one who knows about the temple, or rather what it's built on top of?”

Philo pulls her gaze from the window and nods toward the far side of the inn.

>>42829296

“That would be the three stallions over there,” she says, pointing.

“The white one is Lasting Spear, he used to be the captain of the guard. The stallion with his mane tied back is Lonesome Road, a retired merchant. Knows every road around Hornburn like the back of his hoof.” She hesitates, then leans closer and lowers her voice. “And the… well, I’ll just say it, the fat one is Bailey Bales. He used to be a farmer.”

She winces at her own bluntness, then whispers, “I don’t think he’s going to last long. All he does is eat pies and drink stiff cider. We keep warning him, but he just jokes that we’ll need to dig a bigger hole when he goes.”

“I’ll keep them in mind,” you reply.

Philo nods. “If it’s alright with you, I need to get set up and go over some songs.”

“It’s fine. I think you’ll look great on stage.” You return the nod and turn toward the bar. You give her one last glance just as she bashfully hops onto the stage, only to immediately knock the saxophone off its low stool. She curses softly and bends to check it for damage.

Your eyes linger despite yourself. Her tail sways as she leans forward, and you catch yourself sneaking a quick look at her rear. A part of you is tempted,she’s cute, and clearly kind,but you force the thought aside. You’re here to work, not flirt. Maybe later, when the job’s done, you’ll find the right moment to get to know her properly.

You turn back around to find a hovering tankard shoved into your chest, you look down to see a blue aura around it, looking back up you find Vale.

You turn back around just in time for a hovering tankard to bump into your chest. You blink down at the mug wrapped in a blue aura, then lift your gaze to Vale.

“I’m starting to think you’re secretly a batpony,” she says, grinning as she floats the drink into your hooves.
You take it from her magic and sip. “This cider isn’t alcoholic, is it?”
“Pfft, no...Barely… And don’t change the subject.”

“What subject?”

“I saw you looking.” She tilts her head toward the stage, smirking. “She’s pretty.”

“I heard something fall,” you counter, taking another sip. “I looked back to see if she was alright.”

“Uh-huh.” Vale narrows her eyes in playful suspicion, but her tone shifts as she asks, “So. Did you find anything?”

You nod. “A few things. There’s an influx of ponies coming in from the big cities, looking for a quiet life. And it seems they’ve been running into the paranormal,just not listening to the warnings from the old villagers.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42829297
It's time to listen to the warnings and ramblings of three old villagers. Vale's job is to ensure we get to the stuff under the temple sooner rather than later.

>>42829297
Go speak to the three stallions hanging out and see what they can tell us more about the Temple any clues and tips from them will be helpful in our investigation.

>>42829297
Make sure not to drink too much of that cider. With Doodles draining us, I'll bet we're light weights.

>>42829297
Who can tell us more about ancient bat music, specifically about the significance of 4-4?

>>42829406
>>42829488
>>42829497

“I guess we need to talk to the village elders then?” Vale asks.

With your tankard in hoof, you stride toward the three old stallions gathered by the fireplace. “That’s precisely what I’m going to do.”
Vale falls in behind you as you step up to their table.

Bailey Bales,the fat stallion Philo pointed out, rests his tankard atop his belly, leaning back to peer up at you. A grin spreads across his round face, equal parts warmth and mischief.

“Well now,” he chuckles, “whose turn is it to complain about the foals of today? Yours, Mr. Road?”

Lonesome Road shakes his head, mane tied back and eyes sharp despite his age. He looks you over with an assessing squint.

“I think we’ve got ourselves some new operatives. ’Bout time too. Nah, these two young’uns fall under Spear’s area, I reckon.”

The old white stallion sets his tankard down on the circular table with a deliberate thud. When he speaks, his voice is gruff but not unfriendly, still carrying the weight of an old captain used to being obeyed.

“So,” Lasting Spear rumbles, fixing you with a level stare, “let me guess… you want to hear from us old un’s huh?”

“That’s my plan,” you reply.

The old guard props a hoof against his cheek, leaning into it with a weary sort of familiarity.

“What can I say? I guarded this village for over forty years. Still find myself looking out for you foals.” He pauses, then squints past you at Vale. “And stop hiding behind your stallion, missy. We’re all far too past our prime to be making moves on you now.”

“I’m just his operative. Marrow here is my unit leader,” Vale corrects, stepping beside you.

Lasting Spear shifts back, his posture straightening, the air around him sharpening. His eyes lock onto you with the weight of someone who’s seen too much.

“Tough position then. Lost a few guards over the years to the moors. Nothing compared to the operatives I’ve seen come and go. I’m surprised the moors didn’t claim the last unit.”

“I saw the list of past operatives,” you say quietly. “It’s a long list.”

Spear grunts. “That cottage you’re staying in has been a P.H.E.E.R. base since your organisations early days. Long before my time too.”

“Is that possible, Spear?” Bailey snorts, letting out a belly-deep laugh. “I just figured you were only a few years younger than Celestia herself.”

Lonesome Road smirks. “You’re one to talk, Bailey. You’re just a few pies away from meeting your fate.”

>>42829631
“Ah, let a stallion enjoy his final years,” Bailey says with a lazy wave of his hoof.

Spear shoots him a deadpan look. “I think these operatives are here for you, old colt. Sorry to break it to you they’re here to solve the case of the drunken lardrump”

“Oh no, Spear is telling jokes again! Somepony, call the nurse!” Lonesome Road gasps dramatically.

The three stallions share a laugh,well, two laugh outright. The old captain just smirks and shakes his head.

“Anyway,” Spear says, tapping the side of the wheeled walking frame tucked behind him, “sit, sit. Pull up some stools. Seeing you two standing there is making me jealous.”

Vale’s horn lights as she drags two stools over from an empty table. The old stallions shuffle around to make room. You sit, take a small sip of your cider, and set your tankard down on the scarred wooden table.

Bailey eyes Vale for a moment as she hovers just shy of the table. “Come on, missy—shuffle in. I won’t cop a feel. Doctor says I’ve gotta keep my blood pressure down.”

“So,” Lonesome Road says, leaning back with a chuckle, “what brings you to us old folk? If it’s a mare problem, the only advice I’ve got is: don’t get married.”

“The temple,” you say. “I heard it’s built on something… older.”

“Ah.” Lonesome Road nods knowingly. “Then you’ve heard about the crypts under the basement. Us three snuck down there when we were colts.”
The other two stallions nod grimly.

Spear takes a long swig of his beer. “Bones started rattling. Never went back after that.”

“That sounds like a story,” Vale presses.

“Not much of one,” Spear huffs. “Unit at the time hauled us out and scolded us raw. Then the guard had a go, then our parents. Ears are still ringing.”

“If I recall,” Lonesome adds with a grin, “you’re the one who got stuck in that hole down there, Bailey.”

“I didn’t see it,” Bailey mutters, lifting his tankard. “Still swear something grabbed my hoof…”

“We were lucky,” Spear says. “There are rules in the moors—a few most folk seem to forget these days.”

“I saw a list back at base,” you say. “Warnings about a Songbird Tree, a Piper, a Fae Queen…”

“That’s the lot,” Spear replies. “Follow those and you’ll do fine. Day-to-day, anyway. Cases are another matter.”
“Most of these are hauntings. Why haven’t past units dealt with them?” you ask.

The three stallions trade a long, quiet look.

“There are some things in the moors you don’t deal with,” Lonesome says at last. “You just learn to live with them.”

>>42829632
[What is your next move?]

>>42829631
>>42829632
>>42829636
Forgot my trip.

>>42829636
Bones started rattling? Does that mean you heard something or did you actually see anything down there? You think the temple is something ponies need to learn to live with?

>>42829636
I kinda understand learning to live with it when it comes to the fae, but with spirits of the dead it's best for everyone if they find a way to move on. But, if the village thinks its best leave whatever's down there be, then I guess we'll find a way to pacify it long enough for the workers to finish reinforcing the foundation.
Do you happen to know anyone who might know more about the crypts?

>>42829636
Do you think these all these other old haunts might be connected with the haunting happening in the temple?

>>42829725
>>42829756
>>42829901

You fall silent. Their answer doesn’t sit right with you. Fae, sure, sometimes you have to learn to live with them. But spirits? Dead ponies stuck between worlds? Leaving them unable to cross the veil never sits well with you.

The three old stallions slip into talk about the village, the moors, and the usual gossip. Vale joins in easily. Some of it you already knew, some of it barely scratches your interest. Your mind keeps circling back to the temple, nagging at you. You want this case wrapped before the night ends so you can focus on what’s really going on in this village.

You wait for a lull in the conversation before you speak up.

“You said the bones were rattling in the crypt. Did you hear something, or did you actually see anything down there?”

“We could barely see a thing,” Spear says. “Only had one lantern, dim little thing, barely bright enough to light an outhouse. But the rattling? I heard that.”

Lonesome Road props his cheek against a hoof. “It was so long ago… I keep telling myself I saw one bone shaking across the floor. Can’t recall if that really happened or if it was just the nightmares afterward.”

“Do you think these other old haunts might be connected to whatever’s going on in the temple?” you ask, leaving the question open.
“Who knows,” Lonesome replies with a shrug. “I’ve traveled a lot of roads. Seen some odd things between Canterlot and Baltimare. Hornburn’s called the sister of Hollow Shades for a reason.”

You sigh softly. “I need to find somepony who knows about the crypts. Do you know anyone?”

“You see that mare up there?” Lonesome points toward the stage, where Philo is tapping the microphone, testing it.

“That’s Philo. I talked to her earlier.”

“Well, her mother’s an ex-operative. Retired after a case went… bad. Name’s Brio Belle. She usually joins us around nine.”

Spear raises his tankard but pauses before drinking, his eyes sharpening as he fixes them on you.
“Listen. If you do meet her, take a long look at her, and remember what I’m telling you: let things be. Investigate the temple, sure. The rest? Leave it alone. The Captain of the Guard vets what gets passed to PHEER.”

Bailey’s expression tightens with sudden worry. “Spear… you’re saying too much.”

“Oh, hush,” Spear mutters, then turns back to you, steady and grim. “He’s trying to see the big picture. And he’s right. Go ahead, learn the history if you’re dying to know why. But the warnings? They work in a sick kind of harmony. Play along. And don’t interrupt them.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42829981
Understood me and my team will take what you said into our hearts seriously, otherwise we're end up in the same way as the last unit.

>>42829981
Well, as long as nopony gets hurt... But I'm still going to want to understand them better, at the very least to better educate the newer residents. We can't have ponies constantly harassed by fae or something, either. And thanks for telling us where you stand, last I want is to butcher any goodwill on the first night.

>>42829981
If a drink helps you remember, just say as much. We're just trying to get into the swing of things here in the moors since the old unit left us with nothing - no patrol logs, no notes on cases, no map, no journals; nothing but that warning. Solving at least the hauntings would be standard PHEER procedure and we need a reason not to follow it. The higher ups will start asking questions otherwise.

>>42829981
Ask Lonesome what exactly happened in the case Philo's mother was working on and what was the case about?

>>42829632
Who and why tried to burn down the Songbird Tree?
I reckon in other places it is not the responsibility of the captain of the guard to mediate between PHEER and the hauntings. Did it work like that since White Spirit, or did something change along the way? What is the logic behind it? Or is it merely because captains of the guard get to gather more experience because they live much longer than PHEER unit leaders?

>>42829981
Do we have bits? Get them a round of drinks if we can.

>>42829981
There something worse here than the status quo?

>>42823100

>>42829981
A minor question, but hopefully easy to figure out: we overheard a guard expressing surprise about our weapons. Does it mean the old unit Y didn't use salt blasters? Or is it more like a we have to earn some trust first kinda deal?

Boop

>>42830034
>>42830047
>>42830064
>>42830081
>>42830091

“I’m still going to want to understand these things better,” you say. “At the very least so we can educate the newer residents.”

Spear exhales heavily. “I hope you can get through to them. To most of the newcomers, we’re just superstitious old folk standing in the way of civilization and science.”

“We can’t have ponies constantly harassed by fae, or anything else,” you counter. “And hauntings? Clearing those is standard PHEER procedure. If we don’t handle them, the higher-ups will start asking questions. We need a good reason not to follow protocol.”

The three stallions share another uneasy glance. Finally, it’s Spear who speaks.

“This isn’t some village-wide conspiracy,” he says quietly. “But generation after generation, we’ve watched unit after unit meet a terrible end out here. I just want you to consider your team. Maybe not the last one, but yours.”

You glance at Vale. She offers a small, warm smile—one that reminds you you’ve only known her for a day. Your old unit leader’s drunken words echo in your mind: Losing your first operative is the hardest. You think of the long wall of names back at HQ, and a cold worry settles in your chest. You don’t want to see any of your team carved into that stone. You’d rather see all four of you retire old and worn, not become memories.

Your thoughts wander to Brio Belle.

You turn to Lonesome.

“What exactly happened in the case Philo’s mother was working on?”

The stallions all look down. Their expressions soften, not with fear, but with grief.

After a long moment, Lonesome speaks. “The Songbird Tree,” he says quietly. “That case is the whole reason the Captain of the Guard vets PHEER. requests now. HQ ordered a cleansing. They had no choice but to carry it out.”

“You know it isn’t the Captain of the Guard’s responsibility to mediate between P.H.E.E.R. and hauntings,” you say.

Spear huffs, a weary sound. “I know. We all know. But you need to understand something—this keeps happening. A new unit comes to our village, we get to know them, and then one day… you’re all dead.”

Your stomach tightens. You turn back to Lonesome. “What happened with their case?”

The ex-merchant rubs a hoof down his muzzle. “The unicorn in her unit snapped. Lashed out at her, called her a traitor to the kestrels or something daft. Said she didn’t deserve to see the night.”

“Did she get hurt?” you press.

Lonesome nods, then looks to Vale. “Miss, you know the spell flare?”

>>42832492
“Of course I do,” Vale replies. “It’s one of the first spells foals learn. Parents teach it as a distress signal. The illumination spell works on the same principle, just without the kinetic kick.”

“Well,” Lonesome says, voice heavy, “Brio had that spell fired straight into her face, point blank. Then he broke both her wings. If it weren’t for the other two operatives, he would’ve killed her.”

You grimace at the image, raw, sudden violence erupting in the dark.

Vale frowns deeply. “Flare is a benign spell,” she mutters. “A foal hitting you with it will dazzle you at worst. That’s why it's one of the spells we teach early, we know full well they’ll blast each other with it.”

“Brio’s a batpony.” you counter. “We noticed the tree’s been charred. Did someone try to burn it?”

Spear shakes his head, “No. That tree always looked like that. Hornburn was built on ashes,that a great forest fire swept through the moors many many years before any of us were born. Burned everything to cinders.” He lifts his tankard, swirling the dregs as if peering into old history. “That songbird tree was the only one left standing.”

He sets the tankard down with a soft thud. “Fire didn’t touch it. Or maybe it did, and it just refused to fall. Either way, the charring’s older than anypony here.”

You hear the microphone crackle to life behind you. Philo’s voice drifts across the inn.

“Alright, everypony, Jazz Macabre Night will start in two hours!”

A few patrons lift their heads, offering small cheers or tapping their tankards against the tables. The piano gives a lonely plink as if in agreement, and Philo steps back from the mic, making quick adjustments to the stand while muttering to herself.

The three old stallions glance toward the stage, their expressions softening with something like pride.

[What is your next move?]

>>42832501
Go get Vale and work on the case for two hours and then come back here for the Jazz Macabre Night with the rest of the team.

>>42832501
Philo's father in the picture?

>>42832501
Is the bookstore owner around? We should infiltrate her table and have our drinks.

>>42832501
Kestrels, the birds? When the tree talked to us, at least is tried to amplify sensible concerns. And it didn't touch bats. Maybe the rules it follows when its survival is not at stake are something of a token of its good will? Warning us about Vale being a burden instead of making up avian absurdities may be its way of being friendly. Or maybe our preconceptions limit its capacity for harm? The tale made us think of it as an echo of an unjustly executed bat, so it had to act like a bat. It sucks if it's the case. Nothing's more annoying than things that get more dangerous the more you study them. Or maybe it's Ashes' morning prayers that force it to play nice?
As for the newcomers, we should ask Ashes if he has any ideas. One idea is to ask Doodles to scare them, but I can see it causing more problems that it would solve. It's not their fault they came seeking quiet life to the second least quiet place in Equestria.

>>42832674
>Kestrels
I assumed he misheard, or autocorrect got QM

>>42832697
Ah. Thestals, of course. My bad.

>>42832501
How has Philo dealt with what befell her mother? I think it's admirable that's she's putting herself out there all the same.

>>42832674
>>42832697
This has me wondering about Murk's lineage. Maybe the tree was just positive about him because it can only go off our thoughts and it'll change it's tune once he's physically present, but maybe it being related to a Savage Daughter means it can sense thestralism and still reveres it.

>>42831855

Anyways, how do we let a ghost doodle? Windy poltergeist is good, but it may take her a while to make it sufficiently precise for art. Maybe some system of levers, an unholy offspring of a kinetic sculpture and a plotter, can translate crude air motion into weaker but more precise motion of a quill? Ouija, partial bodily possession? Or can Vale translate EVP into pictures? Drawing is just spatial frequences and phases, probably not too different from what she does when she teleports stuff. Maybe something with Chladni plates.

>>42834323
I think she's just gonna have to get better at object manipulation or cope. An ouija setup with chalk instead of the pick on a blank board could work though.
>ouija is a trademark of Hasbro
wtf lmao

>>42832544
>>42832626
>>42832963

“How has Philo dealt with what befell her mother? I think it's admirable that she’s putting herself out there all the same,” you say.

The three stallions nod in agreement before Spear answers.

“I don’t think she knows any difference,” he says quietly. “Her mother’s always been blind.”

Lonesome Road tips back the last of his beer and wipes his muzzle with the back of his hoof. “Brio’s something else. Lost her sight and still managed to bag herself a stallion.”

Bailey lets out a low chuckle. “Well… she was a looker back then. I’m no feather or leather, but I can sure appreciate a fine pair of wings on a mare.”

Spear shoots him a flat stare. “You appreciate all mares but your wife.”

Bailey shrugs, with a smirk. “What can I say? When I married my wife, it was to spare other stallions.”

The three of them share a brief warm laugh with the weight of their old memories. Beside you, Vale arches a brow at you, her expression saying plainly: “Who in Equestria would marry him?”

“Philo's father in the picture?” you ask.

The three stallions' expression drops for a moment, only to show a little mirth.

Bailey bursts into a laugh. “Ahh, checking if there’s a goalkeeper, are we?”

Spear snorts, shaking his head but still smiling. “Colt, you just got to town. Keep it sheathed for a while… Besides, the local bass player’s been sniffing around her tail lately.”

Vale breaks into a full, unrestrained laugh.

You groan into your hooves. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to piece things together.”

Lonesome Road pushes himself up from the table and shuffles around toward the bar. “Her father owns this inn, you know. I’ll let him know you’re aiming to court his daughter.”

“No, no, no-” you protest quickly, sitting bolt upright. “I’m investigating Unit Y’s history. Trying to understand the full picture.”
The old stallion cracks a wide grin. “I’m joking. I’m getting another round. Spear? Bailey?”

Both stallions raise their tankards in answer.

Lonesome looks to you and Vale. “And what about you two?”

You glance toward the window, the last of the daylight is fading into the moor’s creeping dusk.

“Can you hold that offer?” you say, rising from your stool. “We’ve got to head out for a case. Hopefully we’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Sure, we will be here.”

You give Vale a gentle nudge, and she slips off her stool to follow. With a quick wave to the trio, you step back out into the street. The air is cooler now, the last traces of daylight fading as you retrace your path through the familiar streets.

As the silhouette of the old temple comes into view, you notice two figures lingering near its entrance. A few steps closer, the shapes sharpen into Doc and Murk, waiting in the twilight.

[What is your next move?]

>>42834583
Tell Doc and Murk what we learned in town about the Temple and figure out a strategy together with the team so we can make it back in time for the Jazz Macabre Night.

>>42834583
With the whole team together, I think it's time to go down into the crypts.

>>42834583
Ask if they've learned anything.

>>42834655
>>42834660
>>42834662
“Doc? Murk?” you call up the temple steps.

“Marrow,” Doc greets with a dip of his head, while Murk gives a short wave of his wing.

“How did the research go?” you ask as you climb the steps, Vale close behind.

“Well, it seems those warnings are tied to local legends and myths. All of them,” Murk replies. “We also found out the Moors used to be a forest. That painting in our quarters? I think it’s referencing a massive forest fire caused by batponies clashing with unicorns near the end of the pre-unification wars.”

Vale frowns. “Bats were mostly mercenaries. Were they paid to attack?”

Murk shakes his head. “I found an old book about Starswirl. It mentioned he was tasked with guarding two alicorns. The only reason I can piece together is that the batpony army couldn’t risk alicorns returning to power.”

“What- Starswirl the bearded, as in the most powerful unicorn who ever lived?” Vale asks.

Doc sighs and nods. “That was a tough read. Starswirl came up with the Harmony theory due to fighting in the preunifications wars. The book’s on the table if you want to look at it.”

You nod. “And anything about this temple?”

Doc adjusts his glasses. “We found something. There’s a pit inside, an oubliette. Means ‘forgotten.’ Executed criminals’ remains were thrown down there and left… well, forgotten. I’m no proper temple-goer, but I know full well that isn’t standard practice for Celestian temples.”

Murk adds, “Same goes for the Lunar temples.”

You take a moment to lay out everything you and Vale learned about the temple, making sure Doc and Murk are fully caught up.

“If those three stallions at the Inn were being honest, then these hauntings have been going on a long time,” Murk says. “Sounds like we need to get these spirits back to rest, or across the veil.”

“I think it’s time we head down into the crypts,” you say, pushing the temple door open. “Besides, there’s a Jazz Macabre Night happening at the Inn.”

>>42834898
“Now you’re talking!” Murk perks up. “I hope they do some Blue Notes.”
“Didn’t expect you to be a fan,” Vale remarks.

“I am, I-” Murk stops mid-sentence, staring directly at the glowing red light forming beside you. “Is that Doodles?”
“It’s Doodles,” you confirm, turning to the now materializing spirit. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Saving my energy,” Doodles says with a wicked grin. “And watching you eye up mares… Can’t believe you wanted to check if that bat-mare’s father was still around—”

“Doodles. It was a misunderstanding,” you snap.

“What is she saying?” Doc asks.

“Nothing,” you grumble as you step fully inside the temple.

The interior is silent, oppressively so. Two small candles flicker on the altar, barely touching the darkness. Moonlight spills through the high windows, washing the empty pews in cold blue light. The air is still and stale.

You and your team move down the aisle, circle behind the altar, and slip through the door on the left. The narrow staircase descends into the depths, stone walls tightening around you as you head downward.

You hear Murk mutter his intentions under his breath as you all step into the basement’s chill. One by one, you break and clip on your glowsticks, soft neon light blooming across your vests, as you adjust your gear in the tightening dark.

You turn back and spot Doodles lingering on the stairs, just like before, unable to cross the thin salt line laid beneath the final step. At least the heavy scent of sage has faded from the air.

[What is your next move?]

>>42834906
Keep going further down and remain vigilant and our guard up. Make sure to listen carefully to any sounds we may come across.

>>42834906
Break the salt line to let Doodles in, then reseal it.
The priest mentioned the oubliette is thought to date back to pre-unification times so the spirit could be from just about any era or denomination, but it seems to respect or fear Celestia's name at least.

So I'm guessing if there was a pre-unification battle forest fire here, it's likely the one that razed the village but not the songbird tree. Though the hanging was likely post-fire?

>>42834906
How do they know it was an oubliette? If I found a big hole in the ground in my basement, my first guess would be the ancients used it to store food. And if there are bones in it, well maybe somebody tried to hide in it, let's say from a forest fire, and couldn't get out because the building on top of it collapsed.

>>42833937

>>42836786

>>42836920

>>42837464

>>42834906
What's Murk think of the painting?
Let Doodles in and head down the tunnel into the crypt proper. Doc is on meter duty for now.

>>42834945
>>42835058
>>42835865
>>42837923
>>42837923

You scuff the line with your hoof, breaking it just long enough for Doodles to drift past. Then you sweep a fresh line into place. A quick glance into your bag tells you you’ve got roughly four-fifths left.

Doodles watches you with a worried expression.

“It’s a precaution,” you reassure her gently. “Don’t want anything getting upstairs, other than you.”

You turn to the rest of the team as they finish checking their gear and give a short brief.

“We don’t know what’s down there, so stay sharp. The priest said the oubliette might date back to pre-unification times, which means the spirit or spirits could belong to just about any era or denomination.”

Your gaze drifts to the old portrait of Celestia hanging on the wall, her serene eyes watching over the room, then back to your team. “Whatever’s down there seems to respect,or fear, Celestia's name, at least…Murk can you take a look at that painting for me?”

“Sure. You know I’m not an art expert right?” Murk asks as he trots over to the old portrait, “Well it’s painted by the same mare who painted the one back at base, old Celly looks young there, the sword about her head I have no idea…”

You head to the crawlspaces door then open it, you crawl in as the rest of your team follow suit and crawl in one by one, you wait by the stairs.

You hear Doc in the tunnel, “Miss Vale,ah don’t want to be crass but can you lower your tail, I’m a medic not a gynecologist."

“Damn it” Vale curses, as she pulls herself out of the crawlspace, “I was trying to keep the dust from my tail.”

“You think you got problems,” You hear Murk behind Doc, “New rule, we crawl though tight spaces one at the time.”

One by one though, they emerge from the crawlspace. Finally Doodles crawls though.

“Doodles you could just go though the wall.” You state.

“I could, but I’m just pretending I’m alive and in another case.” Doodles bashful replies.

“Fair enough,” You reply, “Doc you are on meter duty,”

>>42838222
Doc nods and pulls out his Ki-meter, using his yellow glowstick light to calibrate it.

You start down the ancient staircase, each step worn into a shallow curve by an untold number of hooves. The air grows colder as you descend, carrying the dry, mineral smell of old stone. The walls close in tight before the stairs twist sharply, spiraling deeper underground.

Your glowstick lights spill across the stone, revealing old crude chisel marks in the walls that's older than the temple's construction aboveground. The stairs turn again, and the ceiling lowers for a moment before the passage finally widens.

The room is silent. You can hear your team’s breathing echo back at you. Both walls are lined from floor to ceiling with carved, out alcoves, each containing a stone sarcophagus or a tightly sealed tomb lid. Most are unmarked, their surfaces smoothed by time, but others still bear faint carvings

“Hey look at this,” You hear Vale, “These tombs have a mark, it looks like the royal guards coat of arms, but it lacks the crown.”

You move over to Vale, her blue light casts over the stone tomb, “I’m guessing that’s the early post-unification guards Blessed told us about.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42838224
Ask Vale if we should check inside the stone sarcophagus and sealed tomb lids.

>>42838224
Is it just one room? Or like the catacombs? Look around, ask Doc if he sees anything on the meter. Ask Murk if he can see anything.

>>42838224
Are the carvings readable?
Can we see any traces of the construction crew? Does anything look out of place, missing, or recently damaged? Maybe the spirits were agitated because the construction ponies accidentally scratched a coffin or stole something. That would make things easier.

>>42838224
Any activity yet?

>>42838224
Any of the lids look disturbed?

bump

>>42838224
Look around, careful not to step in any oubliettes.

>>42838305
Disturbing final resting places is widely regarded as a bad move. Or do you mean look closer for any markings?

>>42838700

>>42838224
Ya know, if there are oubliettes down here, doesn't that mean something more significant existed in this place before the village?

>>42838308
You lean in further, squinting at the worn inscriptions. The surface is rough with age, the lettering eroded to shallow grooves. Still, you can just make out the old Equestrian script:
Asheth to Asheth.

Below the phrase lies an ancient version of the royal guard’s coat of arms, recognizable in shape, but missing the crown. A symbol of service from a time when the nation was still uncertain, still healing, still forming itself out of the ashes of the old world.

“Well the construction crew came down this far.” You mutter.

You continue walking towards the end of the room. Careful not to fall into any holes you stop at metal barriers bolted to the floor that have been torn up and bent in all directions. “Doc Murk you got anything?”

“Ki keeps jumping to four, then flatlining,” Doc reports, tapping the meter as its needle jitters and dies again.

Murk finishes whispering his intentions and strides past the tombs, eyes narrowed. “They keep slipping in and out. There’s one standing right next to you-” He pauses, snorts softly. “Never mind. It’s Doodles, isn’t it.”

You glance to your side to find a familiar pair of red eyes hovering in the blue gloom. “Yeah, that’s her. Doodles, are you seeing any spirits down here?”

She shakes her head, “Not yet. It takes a bit of time to see them.”

“What does that mean?” you ask.

“Well…” She fidgets, trying to put the thought into something the living can grasp. “It’s like spilling water on a book. At first you only see the page you ruined. But then the water starts soaking through, and suddenly the text on the next page begins to show itself.” She shrugs her ghostly wings, “Same principle. I need time before I see further into the veil. Whoever is down here died a very long time ago.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42840424
Do you think they'll be angry and hostile if we go further and try to contact them or will they be friendly and let us try to help them be put to rest?!

>>42840424
So this place is inhabited, after all. Good. Do, basically what Murk is already doing but a bit louder: introduce ourselves and state our intentions.
Torn metal, less good. Is it bent from the inside or from the outside? Does it look like it was done by ponies with tools, or like it was done by some wild creature? How old the barrier can be?
Ask Vale if the Ki spikes follow the same rhythm she saw at the tree. Maybe the ghosts are dancing.

>>42840441
>>42840505

You nod at Doodles’ explanation, letting the image settle in your mind as your attention drifts to the metal barrier set into the floor. Up close, the damage is even more obvious, its edges are curled upward, warped as though somepony had tried, repeatedly, to pry it open. Grooves score the surrounding stone where a tool has bitten into it again and again. The metal itself is thin with rot, the rust flaking away like old scabs.

You crouch beside it, squinting into the decay. “Vale, check your Ki-meter. Are we getting readings like we saw at the Songbird Tree?”

Vale pulls out her device, its crystal humming faintly in her blue glowstick light. She watches the needles for a few seconds, then shakes her head. “Just random Ki spikes. Zen is harmonic, Tau’s pretty light.”

You exhale slowly. Sometimes spirits come when you coax them, sometimes that’s exactly what they want. Time to take a page out of Murk’s book. You straighten, turn toward the dark, and raise your voice so it carries through the crypt. “We are Unit Y from an organisation known as PHEER. We know the spirits here have been disturbed. Our intent is to set you back to rest.”

Murk stiffens instantly. “Uh… alright, now I’m surrounded…” His wings twitch. “Four. I sense four.”

Doc moves to Murk’s side, eyes darting as he checks his Ki-meter. “Ki four, reading stable” he confirms quietly.

[What is your next move?]

>>42840610
Tell them Murk is under our command. If they have any questions about him, or any problems with him, they should speak to us.

>>42840610
Ask Doodles if she can see them now. Then ask what they need to move on.

>>42840679
>>42840871
You react on instinct, stepping forward and raising your voice into the dark.

“The batpony is under my command. If you have questions, you deal with me.”

The crypt answers with a sudden, suffocating stillness. The temperature plummets, sharp, unnatural, your breath fogging faintly in the beam of your glowstick.

Then one hoofstep. Directly ahead of you. Slow and deliberate.

Your pulse beats.

Without taking your eyes off the blackness, you lean just enough to whisper, barely moving your lips. “Doodles… please tell me you can see them.”

“No,” Doodles whispers, her voice thin with strain. “But I can hear something. A conversation… muffled.” Her ghostly ears flick sharply, angling toward the darkness. “They’re talking, but,” she winces, “I can barely make out a word.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42840960
No moves, we said our part. Let them process it at their own pace. When they're ready, explain what the spirit speaker is for, then turn it on to let them answer if they wish.

Rolled 4 (1d5)

>>42841015
“To the spirits here,” you announce, steadying your breath, “this device is a Ki-meter. It has something called a spirit speaker. If you come close and speak into it, we’ll be able to hear you.”

Vale unbuckles the wooden box from her saddlebags and sets it gently on the stone floor. She flips the latches, opens the lid, and begins working the switches with practised precision. Inside, the long black cylinder shudders to life, rotating as a thin needle drags across its surface with a soft scrape.

You click on your own spirit speaker.

Static bursts through the tiny speaker, sharp, irregular pops that echo unnervingly in the cold crypt.

[First post, roll luck dice]

[YOUR LASS STATS]
Luck - 7
Autism - 2
Skill - 3
Strength - 4

Rolled 6 (1d7)

>>42841107

>>42841126
You click on your own spirit speaker.

Static bursts through the tiny grill, sharp, irregular pops that echo unnervingly in the cold crypt.

The spirit speaker drags another hiss of static through the room, long, low, like something breathing just out of sight. “Stand down…Bat… Operative… Armor different…”

The voice dissolves back into pops and hums.

Vale’s ears flick.
Murk shifts his weight.
Doc glances around.

Doodles immediately open her mouth. “Sounds like they know of P.H.E.E.R.— Oops!” She slaps both hooves over her muzzle as her own words bleed out through the speaker, chopped into fragments.

You shoot her a look sharp enough to cut chalk.

She shrinks back, wings drooping.

Murk tilts his head, glancing at the Ki-meter. “One of them is a mare? I heard a mare saying 'they know'-”

“That was Doodles,” you mutter, dragging a hoof down your face. “But the spirits seem oddly interested in you, Murk.”

“I figured,” he says, though it quickly breaks into a grumbling ramble about how he’s “absolutely not here to cause trouble”

"Still reading four Ki." Doc quietly informs.

[What is your next move?]

>>42841241
I guess our armor is of a newer design than the old unit's? Either way, the old unit is gone and we're here to replace them. What's wrong with the bat? He's as confused as the rest of us and we'd really all prefer to be out of here as soon as possible to get some drinks.

>>42841241
Fair enough. What evidence of our claims would they accept? We have papers, but papers are easy to forge. How about life stories? We have a nice recent story about a cursed ship, an unfinished phylactery and a lich with no trace of Tau.

>>42841241
Doodles is an old PHEER unit bat pony. Does she manifest her gear? Either way, stand down makes it seem like they're not hostile right now. Ask what disturbed them.

I think it's likely these are spirits of the early post-unification guards, that would explain why they are concerned about Murk. The military drill is definitely helping this conversation so I think we should continue addressing them in that formal manner, I'm liking this approach so far. If they do know PHEER, they might recognise White Spirit's name as the founder of the unit we're part of, maybe we can make a connection there.

>>42839521

>>42841683
I've been thinking about it too, but wasn't White Spirit a bat? They must be from an even earlier time if bats in PHEER surprise them. It's even possible that they were the first PHEER unit ever. Because there are four of them. Sound logic, I know. Alternatively, it is possible that they are only wary of bug-eating bats, and something makes them think White wasn't a bug eater, and something else makes them think Murk is a bug eater. A serious gamble.

>>42842432

>>42842542
I think we don't even know if White was a bat or a unit founder, I just assumed. Still if the unit's formation was around the time these guards lived the name might be known.
I don't think they're early PHEER. Them being concerned about thestralism is a good guess, however I was thinking as guards shortly after the unification they might be wary of bats in general since they'd remember the bat mercenaries fighting on all sides for their own gain and harbour some animosity (therefore "armor different" might mean they thought he's a mercenary), but if PHEER was already around then they'd likely know them as being more or less on their side or at least also working to secure the newly formed nation ("operative" suggests they may).

>>42841301
>>42841318
>>42841349
“What’s wrong with the bat?” You ask, staring into the darkness ahead.

The spirit speaker crackles,a sharp pop, then a dragging hum, before a voice pushes through, rough and strained, “Leave…Safer…Not thest…Still bat…”

The words smear into static.

You trade a look with Murk, he’s gone stiff, wings tight against his sides.

You clear your throat and try again. “What disturbed you? Why do you not rest?”

Nothing.

Not even static.

Just a loud, unnatural silence that presses into your ears.

Doodles leans in so close “They’re talking again,” she whispers. “One’s giving orders… I think they’re arguing.”

Before you can ask what about, something slams the metal barrier beside you.

BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
The floor around it shakes.

Your Ki-meter pops,hard enough to sting your ears,then erupts into a violent storm of static.

Through the distortion, a deeper voice rips through:

“…Before us… Burned… Army… Thousands…Revenge…Leave.”

Your attention snaps to Murk just in time to see his wings flare in panic as he pulled backward toward the stairs, hooves scraping stone, eyes wide.

Something just dragged him.

“Murk!” you bark.

Doc is on him instantly, he lunges forward. With one smooth motion he rips open his salt pouch and drags a thick white line across the floor behind a flailing Murk.

The moment his hind hoof hits the near side of the salt, his tail falls to the floor. Murk jolts to a stop, chest heaving.

Doc steadies him with a shoulder.

“You alright?” he asks, voice low but urgent.

Murk swallows hard, pupils pinpricks. “Something… grabbed me,” he whispers. “Full force…Sweet Luna…”

[What is your next move?]

>>42843687
Meter check. Good job Doc, excellent reflexes.
I think Murk's presence might be disturbing something more than we're equipped to deal with right now. The pull was possibly the guard spirits trying to get him to leave.
We should fall back to the stairs for now and reconsider the approach. Maybe Murk has to sit this one out if it makes the spirits more approachable, though we also might need him to get their attention.

>>42843687
Looks like there are some spirits from the civil war.

>>42843687
I think I get it.
The spirits of those whose bones were tossed in the pit are restless and cannot rest. They thirst for bat blood it seems. These four seem to be trying to keep everyone out to keep the living safe, and the horde inside and contained.
Are we equipped and trained to deal with an army's worth of extremely old and possibly decayed spirits who only know anger? I'm not sure we are. I think we should retreat for now and consult momma bat before coming back.

>>42843687
Alright, do as they ask. Hopefully Vale's recorder will add some clarity.

>>42843759
That makes sense, though it doesn't quite explain why they went after the construction workers so much, unless the strain marks on the metal indicate the workers were trying to pry the pit open.

>>42843759
Wait, if those bones belong to bat haters, does that mean this oubliette belonged to Luna's side?

>>42843687
Tell them to stand down. The war is over.

>>42843770
>>42843825
Might be the priest wasn't telling the entire truth about why he was having some works done. Either way, that doesn't matter right now.

>>42843931
It does give more context on the situation. Maybe one of the workers was a bat and that's what triggered the spirits

>>42843726
>>42843758
>>42843759
>>42843767

“Good job, Doc. Excellent reflexes.” You reach them at a trot, checking Murk over with a quick glance before nodding toward Doc’s meter. “Meter check.”

“Four Ki. Harmony, light.” Doc reports, calm but focused.

Across the crypt, Vale is already snapping clasps shut and packing away her equipment. “Marrow, we need runes down now,”

“No.” You cut her off, raising a hoof. “I don’t think they’re attacking. They’re moving Murk away.”

The temperature in the chamber still bites at your coat, but the tension feels controlled. Orderly.

You sweep your gaze across the darkness, ears rotating as you listen for movement, anything.

“Murk’s presence might be disturbing something we are not equipped to deal with. Everypony, fall back to the stairs.”

You all retreat up toward the threshold, hooves echoing against ancient stone. Once everyone is gathered, you face your team.

“We need to reconsider our approach. These four,whoever they were in life,seem to be keeping everypony out. Protecting us from something worse.”

Your eyes drift to the metal barrier below, half-rotted and bent back by tools. A pit. A seal. A prison.

“I think that barrier is covering the oubliette. And whoever was thrown down there… their spirits can’t rest.”

Doc frowns. “Whose bones would those be?”

“I don’t know.” You swallow, thinking of carved tombs, ancient armor, and the echoing word from the speaker: burned. “But I have a feeling batponies here crossed blades with an army at one point, the royal army, pre-unification…I don’t know..”

Murk stares at his hooves, then up at you.

“Marrow… the speaker said burned. Think back to the painting in our living quarters, the unicorn army burned. And the bats…”

“We still need more information.” You hold up a hoof. “Let’s call it a night. The spirits with us,I don’t believe they mean harm.”

You stop.

Movement flickers at the edge of your vision.

>>42843981

Doodles is floating. Suspended by the back of her armor like a kitten by the scruff, legs dangling freely.

She giggles, mane shifting in a phantom wind. “They can see me! And their unit leader is a right gentlecolt…”

The unseen force sets her gently onto the steps.

A moment later: three sharp hoof-stomps echo behind you on the first stair, measured, military, final.

Doc checks his meter again, adjusting his glasses.

“Ki zero…” He exhales. “They’re gone.”

The crypt settles into silence again, the kind that presses on your ears.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, voice low but firm. “I don’t want to accidentally anger those spirits. We’ll find more information and then return with a proper plan.”

You lead the way up the ancient steps, hooves echoing softly on the cold stone. One by one your team follows, Murk still glancing behind him, Doc pausing for a moment to tuck away his Ki-meter, Vale muttering half-formed theories under her breath. Doodles red light glides along beside you.

You crawl back through the narrow passage, the stale air brushing over your coat. The moment you step into the basement again, the atmosphere seems lighter, less oppressive. You ascend the last staircase and push open the door into the temple hall.

The flames flicker gently, and the altar candles burn with a steady, undisturbed glow, as if nothing below had stirred at all.

Your team gathers automatically, forming a straight line along the center aisle. Equipment away, vests dusted off, eyes forward. They’re waiting for your case debrief.


[What is your next move?]

>>42843985
Forgot trip and

>They’re waiting for your case debrief.
They’re waiting for the case debrief.

>>42843985
Ask Vale if her recording equipment picked anything else up, or does she need time to process it?
I assume we let Doodles out and re set the salt line

>>42843999
Yeah, it's been a long day. Even had it as a note not to forget.

>>42843985
Is Doodles still with us?

>>42843985
Until we figure out what is going on and how much is at stake, the crawlspace and everything beyond it is off limits for Murk and Doodles. It also means Murk's special ability: if anybody, doesn't matter who, disappears down there, he can only help by analyzing data and giving advice. How long Doodles can survive without us, by the way? What if she does like a diver and munches on our spark real hard before the separation? Is it possible that some spirits would smell bat on us because of our connection even without her being physically close?
Talk to the priest, find out if we can promise the spirits that the metal barrier will be restored.

>>42843985
Good job, team. It may be a bit unsatisfying to just go down and come back up immediately, but we were clearly on the backhoof down there. Still, we made progress and especially with Vale's recording we should have some good clues to chew on. I don't want to oversell it but we're also still a fresh unit and need to figure out how to work together and I think this showed promise.
Doc, you had great presence of mind, really. That kind of quick action can save lives even if they were just trying to help this time.
Vale, instantly on your instruments, that's good initiative. We didn't need runes but good call as well.
Doodles, good to see you're still in the operative mindset. We'll figure out spirit speakers and such but having you there to see a bit more beyond the veil does help.
Murk, you got a good scare, I hope you're feeling alright. Your Ki sense is definitely quite useful. Stating our intentions to these spirits helped a lot, you might be onto something there. Also you don't have to answer now, but do you have thestralism? More and more of the hauntings here seem connected to unification times so this might become relevant.
For the situation itself, you mentioned the burning army, we've heard this place is built on ashes itself. I thought it was the unicorns who burnt the pegasi, but maybe here the bats burnt both and threw their bones into the pit before Sequi Wisp could free their spirits. If that's the case there could be an army of vengeful bat-hating spirits down there. For tonight we're done here but I think our next steps should include talking to Rounded Screw or his workers to figure out what exactly they need to touch down there, if they were trying to get past the metal grille I can see why the guards' spirits tried to get them away. Maybe ask the guard captain about the guards' history here and Blessed Ashes about White Spirit and the undefaced Lunite emblem. Then possibly go back down without Murk to see if we can arrange for construction without disturbing the oubliette because if there's really an army in there I don't think we can exorcise them ourselves. Sorry for dumping so much on you all, there's really a lot more to this case than it seemed. Any comments?

>>42843018

>>42844040
>>42844137
>>42844417
You look over your team,Doc adjusting his glasses, Vale brushing dust from her vest, Murk staring off in thought, then blink as you realize someone is missing.

A pair of familiar red eyes.
A certain ghostly mare.

You let out a long, tired sigh. “Give me a moment. I forgot Doodles, she’s still in the basement. I completely forgot about the salt line on the last step.”

You turn and trot quickly behind the altar, hooves tapping sharply against the stone. Down the stairwell you go, the warm candlelight fading behind you. At the bottom, right where you left her, Doodles hovers with her forelegs crossed, expression somewhere between unimpressed and disappointed.

She floats just behind the thin, unbroken salt line.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you drag a hoof through the line, breaking it. “Didn’t mean to leave you trapped.”

Doodles lets out a dramatic huff and glides up past you, her tail flicking like she’s trying to gesture despite lacking weight or wind.

Once she’s clear, you sweep the salt back into place, sealing the boundary once more. Then you climb back to the temple hall, Doodles drifting along beside you.

Your team is still standing in formation, waiting patiently for you to resume the debrief, as if nothing at all had happened.

You rejoin them, drawing in a collected breath.

Time to continue.

“Sorry about that,” you say, rejoining the group. Then you straighten up and put on your best leader voice. “Good job, team. I know it feels a bit unsatisfying to go down there only to come straight back up, but we were clearly on the backhoof. Still,we made progress. And with Vale’s recording, we should have some good clues to work with.”

Their faces look a little heavy, so you add, “I don’t want to oversell it, but we’re still a fresh unit. We’re figuring out our footing, and tonight showed a lot of promise.”

You turn to Doc first. “Doc, great presence of mind. Really. That kind of quick reaction can save lives,even if the spirits were trying to help this time.”

“Ain’t nothin’, just years o’ experience,” Doc mutters, waving a hoof dismissively.

Next, you address Vale. “Vale, instantly on your instruments,good initiative. We didn’t need runes, but it was the right call to prepare them.”

Vale offers a small, proud smile. “Hopefully we captured something good.” She taps the wooden recorder strapped to her saddlebags.

Your gaze drifts upward to the ghostly mare hovering above the group. “Doodles,good to see you still thinking like an operative. We’ll sort out the spirit speakers and all that, but having you there, seeing a little closer to the veil? That helps.”

“Oh,uh,thanks…” Doodles’ ears droop bashfully. “Didn’t think you saw me as part of the team…”

“I do,” you reply firmly.

>>42845314
Finally, you turn to Murk. “Murk, you got a good scare. I hope you’re alright. Your Ki sense is incredibly useful. Announcing our intentions to the spirits helped a lot, I think you’re onto something… but there is something I need to talk to you about privately.”

“Marrow, I’d rather you say it in front of the team,” Murk says, lifting his chin.

“Alright then.” You pause, choosing your words. “You don’t have to answer now… but do you have thestralism?”

All eyes snap to Murk, Vale’s mouth hanging open, while Doc shoots you a brief look that clearly says I suspected as much too.

Doodles tilts her head. “Are you going to send him to an asylum for treatment?”

“No, Doodles,” you say with a calm sigh. “And there are no asylums. They were all closed two decades ago.”

Murk looks between you all, then exhales. “It’s that obvious, huh.”

Vale pales a little. “You mean you… eat bugs?”

Murk shoots her a sharp look. “Before you say anything else,no. I don’t have it bad. Nopony needs to worry about me sinking my fangs into your necks.”

“Vale,” you warn gently, “enough.”

You turn back to Murk. “We’ll talk more about it another time. As for the situation down there,you mentioned the burning army. And we keep hearing this place was built on ashes. I always thought it was the unicorns who burned the pegasi, but… maybe here the bats burned both sides and tossed their bones into the pit before Sequi Wisp could free their spirits.”

Murk scrunches his face. “If you’re talking about the Battle of Darkstone Woods, that was miles from here.”

Doc speaks up, adjusting his glasses. “Unless it was revenge from the batponies. Either that, or history likes to rhyme.”

“Either way,” you continue, “there might be an army of vengeful, bat-hating spirits sealed down there. For tonight we’re done, but I think our next steps should be clearer. First, talk to Rounded Screw or his workers. Figure out what exactly they needed to reach in the crypt. If they tried getting past that metal grille, I can see why the guard spirits tried to drive them off.”

You pace a little, ear flicking as you go from debriefing to free-flowing thought. “Then ask the guard captain about the history of the royal guards stationed here. Talk to Blessed Ashes about White Spirit and the undefaced Lunite emblem. After that, maybe we go back down without Murk, to see if we can discuss arrangements for construction that won’t disturb the oubliette. Because if there’s really an army in that pit… I don’t think we’re the ones who can exorcise them.”

>>42845315
You finally look back at them. Vale is smirking, Murk is sighing quietly, and Doc is staring out the stained glass window like he’s pretending not to be listening.

You catch their expressions and huff. “Alright, sorry for unloading all that on you. There’s a lot more to this case than it looked. Any comments?”

Three silent shakes of the head.

Vale chuckles. “I think you covered most of it, Marrow. But does your mind ever take a rest?”

“No… it doesn’t,” you admit. “Now let’s head to the Inn. I did promise you, after all, Vale.”

Vale brightens. “That’s more like it.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42845318
Time to make merry and listen to a cute mare's songs. The townsfolk might get a little more chatty with some cider in them. Make sure we have some bits to buy drinks.

>>42845318
Innwards it is

>>42845343

>Make sure we have some bits to buy drinks
we can always check the floor for any dropped ones

>>42845318
We should probably write to HQ about our findings and that we lack equipment and training to deal with it properly and for good, though we might be able to keep things quiet long enough for the workers to stabilize the foundation.
Because who doesn't love paperwork getting in the way of fun and relaxation?

>>42845432
It seems fairly stable so we have some time to investigate, but an angry army is definitely more of an issue than an angry tree so I also don't feel like we can or should sweep this one under the rug forever. If that's really what's down there it's a pretty big risk for the town's bats.

>>42845343
>>42845432
>>42845432

You all step out of the Temple and make your way down the dark quiet street toward the Inn, hooves tapping softly against the cobblestones. Halfway there you stop and pat your chest.

“Damn. I don’t have any bits. Can’t even repay you for that drink earlier, Vale.”

Vale raises an eyebrow at you. “I didn’t buy them. I put it on a tab. The Inn sends an invoice to base every week.”

You stare at her. “And how exactly am I supposed to hide that in the unit expenses?”

She shrugs, completely unfazed. “I don’t know. That’s why we have unit leaders.”

You groan and start walking, already imagining the growing stack of drink charges and praying your team doesn’t turn out to be heavy drinkers

You keep walking, but your mind won’t leave the temple. It lingers on the hollow beneath it on whatever might be waiting down there. You’ll need to keep things quiet long enough for the workers to stabilize the foundation, but that won’t be enough. HQ maybe needs to be informed. With any luck they’ll send an attachment, or at least some proper equipment, before those spirits decide to remind everypony they’re still there.

You reach the Inn, and even from outside you can feel it,deep bass thumping through the door, piano keys rolling like warm rain, and every now and then a bright, sharp cry from a saxophone cutting through the night air.

You push the door open.
The Inn is alive.

Every table is packed, ponies squeezed shoulder to shoulder, drinks raised, conversations buzzing over the music. The impromptu dancefloor you'd seen earlier is now a swirling mess of hooves and wings, couples spinning, friends laughing, a few ponies swaying in their own little worlds as the rhythm moves them.

Up on stage, Philo is singing her heart out,one wing wrapped around the microphone stand, her voice smooth and smoky as it glides through the melody. Her free wing flicks in time to the beat, her eyes shimmering under the candle lights.

The double bass player, a tall, lanky stallion with a shaggy mane half-hiding his eyes, stands at the back of the stage, he plucks the strings with slow, confident strum. Each note thrums through the inn’s wooden floorboards, vibrating up your legs like a second pulse.

Beside him, perched on a padded stool, is something you didn’t expect, a gryphon pianist. Her feathers gleam bronze under the lights, and her talons dance over the keys with effortless grace. She plays like she’s not touching the piano so much as coaxing it.

And finally an unicorn stallion steps forward with his saxophone. His horn glows faintly as he adjusts the valves, then he leans in, eyes half-closed, and unleashes a ribbon of sound. Smooth and soulful
It’s a strange trio, but together they sound incredible,tight and harmonious, like they’ve been playing for decades.

>>42845575

For a moment, the four of you just stand there in the doorway, letting the energy of the room wash over you. After everything in the crypt, the music feels almost unreal,too warm, too alive, too normal.But it's exactly what you need.

You and your team approach the bar. Extra staff bustle behind it now, sliding ciders down the counter, tapping beers, and measuring spirits for ponies who want something stronger.

“I’ll get the drinks. Ciders?” Murk asks, leaning his forelegs on the bar.

You and Vale nod.

“I’ll pass on cider. Too sweet for me,” Doc says. “Double whiskey. Anythin’ from the frontier’ll do. Neat.”
Murk nods and turns, but before he can call for service, the mule from earlier steps in front of him,Meadow, if you remember Philo’s introduction right.

“Oh! I was wondering if there was a bat in the new unit.” Meadow’s long ears perk as she smiles. “What can I get you?”

An awkward silence drops between them.

“What are you?” Murk blurts, skipping straight past any tact.

Vale snorts. “Smooth…”

Meadow laughs warmly. “I’m a mule. Never seen one before?”

“No… I-I haven’t,” Murk admits. “I, uh… four ciders, please…”

“Murk, three ciders. Three,” Vale corrects, grinning. “And a double whiskey for Doc.”

“Right. Three…” Murk mumbles, still staring at Meadow as if she’s the only pony in the room.

“I’ll get you three ciders and a double whiskey,” Meadow says, her ice-blue eyes full of nothing but kindness before she turns to pour the drinks.

A moment later, three tankards and a glass slide across the bar. “On the tab?”

“Uh… yes. A-and put a drink on there for yourself…” Murk stammers, his tail flicking like a metronome.
“Thank you. I’ll have it after my shift,...five minutes from now.” She gives him one more smile before flicking her tail and moving on to the next customers.

You roll your eyes and glance around. By the fireplace, the old stallions are still camped out, their table now buried under tankards and empty glasses. They’ve gained a newcomer, an elderly batpony mare who’s aged gracefully. Oddly, she wears a white blindfold, tucked neatly beneath her long fringe. A white cane rests against the table beside her.

[What is your next move?]

>>42845577
We should probably go and introduce ourselves to, I assume, Brio Belle. Let her know we're the new PHEER unit leader.

>>42845577
Real smooth, Murk.
Either way, is the priest or the construction guy around? We should tell 'em that anyone opening that pit cover might die and that the crypt is strictly off limits to any and all bats.

>>42845577
Since when do blind bats need canes?

>>42845605
>>42845645
>>42845689
You scan the crowd, half-hoping to spot the priest. Odd, maybe, but he strikes you as the type who enjoys a quiet tipple after a long day of service. No such luck. Instead, your eyes drift back to the old batpony seated with Spear, Lonesome, and Bailey.

Turning back to your team, you immediately notice Murk and Vale have already disappeared into the crush of the dance floor. Only Doc remains at your side.

With a sigh, you head toward the table by the fire.

Spear looks up and sets down his tankard. “Did the case go well?”

You sigh, “Somewhat. The case is still open, so I can’t discuss in too much detail.”

“Is this the old pone corner?” Doc asks as he places his whiskey on the table.

Lonesome barks a laugh. “If you want to complain about the foals of today, this is the place.”

“Good enough for me.” Doc pulls up a stool. “Name’s Elder Stitch, just call me Doc.”
The three stallions nod and introduce themselves in turn. While they fall into small talk, your attention shifts to the old mare. She sits perfectly still, one hoof tapping lightly on the table in time with the music.

“You must be Brio,” you say.

“Are you a tax collector?” the mare cackles. “Ah, but yes, that’s me. And I know who you are. I can smell the salt and chalk on you.”

Your gaze drops to her cane, curiosity narrowing your eyes. “Since when do blind bats need canes?”

“To smack misbehaving stallions away from my daughter… and to toy with ponies who forget bats have very good hearing.” Brio shrugs.

“I’m the new PHEER-” you begin, but she cuts you off.

“I know. News doesn’t take long to reach me, dear.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42845736
Best to cut to the chase then. Introduce ourselves to Brio and that our new unit is here to finish what the previous unit started here. Fill her up to speed about what we did today at the temple and ask her we need her help to decipher crypts her daughter Philo mention she can assist in our investigation. We made some progress on how to make the temple not haunted anymore so this community can be much safer from further dangerous paranormal activities.

>>42845736
We won't bore a retired pony with the current temple case, but if she'd be more than welcome to drop by the base any day to help undo the damage done when the old team's logs and notes were wiped.

>>42845736
So this is what Philo's confident act was supposed to look like. Nice. Can we get some lessons too? With how many of the ghosts we're going to deal with around Hornburn are ex-military types, a solid well-rehearsed drill sergeant act may come in handy.

>>42845736
Ask how did she know was it her incredible hearing skills from far away, her daughter told her, or does she still have some old PHEER contacts who informed her about our arrival?!

>>42845736
I assume she was 'volunteered' for retirement after she was blinded. Ask her if she knew what the rest of her team were investigating. What happened to them.

>>42845780
>>42845806
>>42845836
>>42845959

“Is that thanks to your incredible hearing, or do you have contacts?” you ask.

“Hearing’s useful,” Brio says, tilting her head toward the old stallions, “but a network of retired ponies who love to gossip puts any agency to shame , even our classified friends.”

“Well, then you probably know we’re the new unit here to finish what the old one started.”

“Started? Hah.” Brio shakes her head. “In Unit Y, you maintain the status quo. I presume you know the warnings.”

“I do.”

“Leave the past buried and leave those spirits be. Solve a case now and then to keep HQ happy ,but the warnings,” She cuts herself off and flicks an ear “Damn it. Follow me outside.”

“You need help?” you ask as she rises.

“Kind of you, but I know where the door is,” she says, tapping her cane once as she makes for the exit.
You follow her into the crisp night air, settling at one of the outdoor benches. Brio sits opposite you, facing the cool breeze.

Her ears swivel. “We should be fine to talk here. What I’m about to tell you is what I told the previous Unit Y.” She exhales slowly. “Accept the warnings as they are. They might seem unrelated, but they’re not. It’s layers of history. Peel too many away, and Hornburn will end up like Blackhoof.”

Hearing another operative speak of that hill in the open gives the words weight. This mare knows the nondisclosure still applies after retirement.

You frown. “I’ve only heard rumors, something about the veil being too thin there.”

“It’s true,” she says. “Some spirits work tirelessly to keep that from happening here. Beneath our hooves, the ashes of revenge still burn deep.”

“I keep hearing that,” you admit. Your mind flicks back to the Temple. “We had a case today, four spirit guards trying very hard to make our batpony leave.”

Brio is quiet a moment. “Did you find the cause of the haunting?”

You nod. “Somepony tried to open the metal cover of the oubliette. They bent it all up.”

A flicker of real fear crosses her face. “Then I’m glad they didn’t manage it. Nopony knows what’s down there just theories. I don’t want to know. Leave those guard spirits be, and get that metal cover repaired.”

“This would all be easier if the notes and paperwork hadn’t vanished,” you mutter.

“What do you mean?” Brio asks.

“There’s nothing. It was all cleared out before the unit came to the Moors. All that’s left are the warnings.”

Brio stiffens. “Who are you accusing? I’ve no hoof in that. And wiping logs puts operatives at extreme risk.”

“I know,” you say. “But yes, all that’s left is a set of warnings written on an old patrol order sheet.”

“I’m sorry,” Brio says softly. “I can’t help you there. Whoever did it… it wasn’t me. And if that’s truly all that remains, then you lot are working half-blind.”

>>42846181
“I’m aware,” you reply.

A silence settles between you both, stretched thin by the muffled music drifting out of the inn. The chatter, the clinking glasses, the saxophone, all of it feels strangely distant.

“Your team,” you say at last. “The ones the old stallions keep hinting about. What happened to them?”

Brio groans softly. “Those old stallions flapping their gums again…” She shifts, the boards beneath her hooves creaking. “You mean after I ended up like this?”

“Yeah.”

“It was me and Darken Spark,that was the unicorn who attacked me at the Songbird Tree.” Her voice turns sharp, almost bitter. “And trust me, never bring a unicorn to that thing.”

“I already have,” you admit. “Vale had her horn ring on, thank the stars. She realised the thoughts weren’t hers. It took me longer to shake off.”

Brio tilts her head. “Sounds like you’re more receptive to possession than unicorns.”

“He’s really easy to attach to,” Doodles chirps as she materializes beside you.

You keep your gaze straight ahead, refusing to indulge the ghost. “I’m aware,” you mutter. “I take precautions. Still… What happened to your team?”

Brio ears twitches. “If you must know… it’s why the Songbird Tree is on the list now. Darken got charged, bodily harm, assault. Dishonourable discharge from PHEER. After that, I don’t know what became of him.”

“And the others?”

“Stars and Blinken,” she says quietly. “The other two bats. They kept working cases for a while, but… fate has a funny way of catching up to ponies like us.”

Your shoulders tense. “What happened to them?”

Brio folds her hooves, blindfold shifting slightly as she bows her head.

“Stars,” she begins, “was a show-off. Brilliant operative, stupid bravery. Tried to solo a case he should’ve waited on.” She pauses. “They found him dead in the graveyard.”

You swallow.

“And Blinken?” you ask, voice low.

Brio’s ears droop. “Poor mare blinked out of existence in the western woods. Just… gone. Nothing left but her vest and her gear.”

[What is your next move?]

>>42846189
Ironic. So what are we supposed to do, just let the ghosts hold this town together? More like they're holding it hostage. I didn't join PHEER to watch from the sidelines.

>>42846189
We did kinda figure out what's down there and since you don't want to know, all I'll say is make sure you or your daughter never go into the crypt.
On a brighter note, how were the drinks bills masked back in your day? I'm the unit leader now and have to figure something out. Sometimes an old trick is better than a bag of new ones.

>>42846189
>Nopony knows what’s down there just theories
Seriously? It's, it's big. May it be something that that only Brio knows? How can church ponies not know something so basic about their own basement?
I don't know if we should let Blessed carry on with his renovations in the basement anymore. I mean, it is possible that everything is what it seems. Maybe nobody knows the oubliette is more than just an old hole in the ground. Not Blessed, not Meadow, not the current captain of the guard who happily approved our assignment like it's not a big deal, not even the old farts we left Doc with. Maybe Blessed or one of his colleagues was down there for a good reason, saw some cracks in the walls (did we notice any, by the way?), and hired the builders. And nobody warned the builders to stay away from that one metal barrier because, again, nobody knew it was important. And the builders decided to get past it because, maybe because the cracks go there and it is impossible to properly reinforce the foundation without breaking the fence. Normal, serious reasons. And when Ashes went down there after the accident to do his sage thing, he either didn't go far enough to see the broken barrier or, again, didn't know it was important. But in that story about the ritual on the bridge somebody, likely flesh and blood, had to draw the glyphs.
Ashes, no, I don't want to think bad of him. He's way too clumsy for a cultist. The worst he can be is an undercover church cop, what's the word, an inquisitor? Meadow, impossible to say. Rounded Screw and his ponies, they are not from around here, right? How did they get themselves hired? What Brio thinks of them? Does she by any chance have any old friends who can run background checks on ponies?

>>42846189
In other words your entire team is gone half of them is MIA and the rest is dead, except for you who is injured in the line of duty Honourable discharged a Survivor who lived to tell the Tale. I'm sorry you went through that I'll make sure that my team doesn't end up like that the same way.

Ask her exactly how are we going to fix the Oubliette metal cover do we need some kind of blacksmith to weld it back in place or make a new one to replace the bented up one in the temple?

Ask what gave her the courage to want to stay here in this town when she retired from PHEER instead of leaving doesn't this place reminds her of too many bad memories when her team was destroyed and disbanded?

Ask doesn't it seem off and strange that the notes and paperwork logs are nowhere to be seen before her team Unit Y came here perhaps the record logs were never there or maybe somepony from this community or higher up from PHEER was getting rid of the evidence by the time her team were scheduled to station here to make it harder for unit Y to solve the case or it was they're way to protect the spirits haunting grounds from disturbed does she have any ideas who coulda had access to them?

>>42846189
I suppose if we can't change things we can at least research them. Those notes have to be recreated and maybe a new look will find something tradition has overlooked. I'll cling to that hope at least.
We've heard the newer town residents don't heed the warnings much. What do you think we should do there? Educate them? Block off places like the Songbird Tree? We can maintain the status quo, but I fear eventually somepony would slip through and accidentally light the powder keg themselves. That metal in the crypt is quite bent already despite the guards' efforts.
Also discreetly ask who she doesn't want to listen to our conversation.

>>42846189
We should list off the warnings we got to see if anything is missing.

>>42845195

>>42846251
>>42846347
>>42846439
>>42846466
>>42846537
“I guess you expect us to sit on the sidelines until our fate catches up to us too,” you sigh. “But I didn’t join PHEER to stand around. I joined to help ponies, dead or alive.” You pause, letting the admission settle between you. “We can at least research them… for now.”

“You’ve seen that wall in the cottage?” Brio asks.

“I have. The villagers don’t want that list getting any longer.” You exhale. “Maybe more retired names will end up there someday.” Another thought occurs to you. “Rounded Screw and his ponies, they’re not from around here, right?”

“You mean the construction company boss?” Brio tilts her head. “No. He and his crew are from Baltimare. They’ve also been building new houses here.”

Your mind returns to the bent metal cover of the oubliette. One of his workers must have damaged it, disturbing the spirits. Maybe it’s time to find someone who can repair it , or replace it entirely.

“Brio, is there a blacksmith in Hornburn? The metal down in that crypt is bent and rusted to Tartarus and back.”

“There is a smith,” Brio replies. “Used to have a sign, too, until the fool decided to tear it down. His workshop’s at the end of Old Crest. Best go see him.” She hesitates, then adds, “But I’ll warn you, he loves his conspiracies. Take everything he says with a pinch of salt.”

“We’ll get it sorted,” you say. “We can keep the status quo going for a while, but I’m worried somepony’s going to slip up eventually and light the powder keg themselves…”
Another silence settles. Brio’s face is unreadable beneath the blindfold, you’re left guessing at her expression.

“I know,” she murmurs at last. “Those new residents, I fear it’ll be one of them. Ponies these days don’t believe in the paranormal like they used to. They explain it away with ‘science’ they barely understand, or blame it on bad sleep.” She turns her head toward you, ears angled fully forward. “Ponies like you and me… we deal with the paranormal every night. We know the signs. We’re attuned.” Her voice lowers. “They aren’t.”

“What gave you the courage to want to stay here in this town?” you ask.

“Courage?” She tilts her head.

>>42848220
“Doesn't this place remind her of too many bad memories, when her team was destroyed and disbanded?” you ask.

“I miss them, don’t get me wrong. But here I have friends along with the bad memories. If I left, that means the memories won.” Brio shakes her head lightly. “Besides, my stallion is here. Too bad I still don’t know what he looks like. So let me know if he’s a total hunk or not, nopony ever gives me a straight answer.” She laughs.

A cold gust slices across your coat. You glance around at the empty dark street. “Why did you ask me to follow you out here? Is there somepony inside you didn’t want listening in?”

“No pony in particular. Just escaping the gossip…” Brio says, her voice trailing off like she changed her mind halfway through.

“But you’re willing to talk to me, and be alone with me? We only just met,” you press.

“Marrow Dirge, isn’t it?” Brio folds her wings and shrugs. “I don’t know. I just like your name.” She stretches stiffly, then gives a shiver. “Come on. Let’s get inside. This cold is getting to these old bones, and I’m missing my daughter’s performance.”

Brio slips off the bench, trots to the door, and swings it open.

You follow her back in. The band pauses to retune, and Philo is already onstage. She gulps down the last of her drink and leans into the microphone.

“I hope everypony is enjoying themselves!”

Cheers erupt from the crowd, stomping and whooping for more.

“Alright, alright,” she laughs. “I’ve got a few more. Here’s one to the Blue Notes…”

The piano rolls out a few soft chords, then builds. The bass thumps in, slow and smoky slowly reaching a quick tempo.

Philo taps her back hoof to the beat. Then she starts to sing, her voice cheery yet soulful:
Crowds lined up by the marquee lights,~
Hooves tapping out the rhythm of the night.~
Blue Notes tuning on the shadowed stage,~
Warm brass humming like a caged-up blaaaze.~
Ponies cheering as the curtains rise~
No one sees the spark behind backstage ignite.~

Vale barrels up to you, grinning, flushed, smelling of liquor. You can smell the alcohol before she even stops moving.

“Marrow!” she shouts over the music. “Come on, let’s dance!”

[What is your next move?]

>>42848227
Join Vale on the dance floor and cut loose have fun.

>>42848230
You decide to cut loose. To be fair, you haven’t had a break all week,barely even gave the team a chance to settle before diving straight into a case. A little dancing won’t kill you. At least dancing isn't your fate.

Vale, already halfway to the stage, grabs your foreleg and yanks you along.

“Alright, alright, I’m going…” you laugh, stumbling as she spins you toward the crowd of swaying ponies.

Philo leans forward on the mic, her wing curled around the stand as the piano ripples into the pre-chorus. Candle lights shimmer off the brass player as the beat picks up.

Her voice curves into the room like smoke:
But the beat’s too sweet, and the groove’s too fine,~
To notice little embers dancing out of tiiiime~

[Roll 1d5 for you dancing skills]
1. You don’t know how to dance, just flail your legs around where even fate avoids you.
2. Just sway and tap.
3. You know how to groove. Just step out of time.
4. Swing that mare.
5. Outa my way, I’m the lord of the dance.

Rolled 5 (1d5)

>>42848268
Have a blast Marrow show these ponies especially Philo your slick dance moves.

>>42848277
Oh shit will dancing be Marrow's bat sex moment?

>>42848295
We'll find out once Aftercase upload his next post.

>>42848295
Let's not go too far with our direct underling on the first night. I'm sure that's improper use of authority or something if Pony Relations hears of it.

>>42848268
>dancing isn't your fate
That's what a dog pretending to be Vale would say.

>>42848302
Oh I agree, I more meant that it'll be hilarious if this is where all our max rolls go, like with Willow.

>>42848302
Technically our team is done working for today they'll resume their job the next day so this is their off time no need to make it about business I doubt it will go horribly wrong this is the time to enjoy pleasures now.

>>42848277
You move toward the center of the dance floor. Once you’re there,really there,your body remembers what to do. You know how to move your bones. Music has always had a way of unhooking the tension, letting you be.

Philo sweeps into the chorus, her voice rich and soaring:
Oh, the Blue Notes burn bright tonight,~
Music glowing hot like fire in flight.~
Swing so sharp it cuts like faaate,~
Smoke in the rafters keeping time too late.~
Oh, the Blue Notes burn bright tonight—~
And everypony keeps dancing through the niiight.~

The crowd surges with the beat, hooves pounding, wings flaring, the whole tavern thrumming like a living thing.

You catch Vale by the foreleg and pull her upright onto her hind legs. She gives a startled laugh,just before you swing her into your chest in one smooth, practiced motion. Her eyes go wide at the unexpected groove you drop her into.

The next beat hits. You pivot, swing her back out, keep hold of her hoof, and spin her around. Vale whoops, mane flying, still shocked.

Ponies nearby cheer as the two of you find a rhythm sharper than the band’s brass. The dancers around you instinctively part, giving space as you and Vale carve out a spotlight of your own.

Philo continues to sing, breaking into the next verse.
A crackle whispers through the saxophone’s cry,~
Bass rumbles deep like a storm in the sky.~
Flames creep slow up a velvet drape,~
Like a shy little shadow learning to escape.~
Ponies cheer louder as the solo soar,~
Never hearing smoke kiss the backstage door.~

You know how to dance, now everyone else does too.

[Roll 1d5]
1. It hits you, all the eyes are on you. You buckle under the pressure.
2. Just play it cool, repeat the same moves.
3. Give the mare a good time.
4. Time to make her sweat. Hopefully Vale can keep up.
5. Silly mare, I’m the puppet master and you're just a puppet for my unstoppable groove.