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Thompson sat down at the bar and sighed. "I am here on a diplomatic mission. I'd like to avoid conflicts." Again, his hat went off his head and sat in his lap. "I was told to come here. Do you rent rooms, and would you have some water, please?"

No food. He'd get his own one. Even if a green zone, Thompson couldn't trust an undead tavern for a meal.

"Mark Thompson." The man really wished he had been given water anyway. No matter how stale or tarnished it'd have been, he could purify it. There was nothing to do with alcohol though, and not only did he dislike the taste of ale, but getting boozed in a bar full of leeches really wasn't his thing.

He almost downed his mug in a single sip, and put the money on the table for a second one already.

"How safe am I in here? I know there are rules, but what are they?" He asked Casper, while keeping his eyes on the people surrounding him.

"They call this a Green Zone area," Casper said as he took the money and put it into a tin box. "Meaning, all who are within its boundaries are safe from harm. In theory anyway." Casper leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, saying, "Can't say the same for the unfortunate people the vamps keep as pets. Everynight the the floor downstairs has to be mopped 'cause some fledgling got a little too giddy off the blood. Roland comes by every morn' to collect the bodies."

"Yes, yes. That's what his kind are called. They're the only humans allowed free roam in the city, along with the clergy. They never come in here, though. The clergy, that is." Casper seemed the talkative type, and likely to answer whatever else Mark had to answer. You would be too if you were a lonely ghost and the only time people actually talked to you - if they could still talk at all - was to get drinks. So he was revelling in the chance to have a real conversation for once.

Casper gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Roland's been coming around here for a while, but he never talks. All I know about him is he picks up the bodies we toss out. What he does with them I'd rather not know. The clergy's been around forever, or at least as long as I've been here. I don't know much about them, and the vamps avoid them at all costs, so I can't tell you much, other than they call themselves the Order of the Dark Moon."

At the mention of the clergy, a few of the vampires sitting nearby became a little unsettled. The ones sitting nearby at the bar took their glasses of blood and moved to sit elsewhere. Casper gave them all curious glances, then just shrugged.

"Sorry friend. This is just a tavern. Only inns you'll find around here are in the cemetaries, but that's for a different kind of rest." The ghost chuckled. "I'm not sure where Roland lives, but I guess you could always start at the closest graveyard. His type can always be found there."

Casper smiled softly. "I'm already dead. I've been dead for a thousand years. I hope you find what you're looking for."

My lord...

Darshendros turned in his chair, staring at a patch of darkness growing in the nearby corner. The Shadows spoke to him, relaying what they had seen so far. Darsh had sent them to keep an eye on the human after he'd left, and find out what he was up to.

Casper told him all he wanted to know, as expected...

"Damned ghost never knows whe to shutup. What else?"

The human just left Hangman's. The Others are watching him now. He has yet to move on to his next destination, but we suspect he will be seeking out Necromancer Roland...

"Roland, eh? Interesting. Perhaps we'll have a word with him as well. Carry on with your mission."

By your leave, my lord...