Gravestones and Secrets: Vhid's Haunting Discovery (Vhid part 4)

 Vhid's bony feet crunched on the frozen ground as he wandered through the Middlepass Eternal Rest Cemetery. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, lingering aroma of decay. Each grave was a silent sentinel, marking the passage of time and the lives that had been lived. Vhid's glowing eye sockets scanned every tombstone, searching for any sign of recent disturbance.

The moon cast eerie shadows, dancing across the snow-covered graves. Vhid's inspection was meticulous, his skeletal fingers tracing the carved names and dates, each touch a whisper of the past. Suddenly, his hand paused over a familiar name: Hans Traub. A shiver of recognition coursed through his spectral form.

The gravestone bore the date of his death: the 24th day of the 3rd month, in the year 40. Forty-nine years had passed since that fateful day. Vhid slowly removed his glove, his bony fingers tracing the letters etched into the cold stone. A sense of melancholy washed over him as he realized this was his own grave.

As he stood there, lost in thought, his gaze fell upon a small stick lying on the ground. There was something about it that drew him in, an inexplicable pull. He picked it up, examining it closely before securing it in his robe. It was a simple stick, yet it felt significant, a piece of a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

The gravestone, however, held more mysteries than answers. The bottom section, where the cause of death and details of surviving family members would typically be inscribed, was damaged. The stone was chipped and worn, the words illegible. Vhid felt a pang of frustration. Who was he? Did he have family in this town? The answers eluded him, buried beneath the weight of time and decay.

With a heavy sigh, Vhid decided to make his way back to the town. The cemetery, with its silent graves and whispered secrets, had given him more questions than answers. As he left the graveyard behind, the moonlight cast an eerie glow over the tombstones, as if bidding him a silent farewell.

As Vhid entered the town, a black stray cat darted past him, its eyes glinting in the moonlight. The sight made him uneasy, but he quickly dismissed the feeling. After all, what harm could come to him? He was already dead.

The Rusty Anchor Inn was a welcome sight, its warm lights a beacon in the cold night. Vhid pushed open the door, the familiar scent of roasted meats and ale greeting him. Pip, the barkeep, offered a friendly nod but was too busy with other patrons to engage in conversation. Vhid made his way to his room, the weight of his discoveries heavy on his spectral shoulders.

As he closed the door behind him, Vhid couldn't shake the feeling that his journey was far from over. The gravestone had revealed a piece of his past, but the true mystery of his existence remained shrouded in darkness. He sat on the edge of his bed, the stick from the graveyard clutched in his bony hand, and prepared to face whatever revelations the night might bring.

The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of conversation from the inn below. Vhid's mind raced with questions and possibilities. Who was Hans Traub? What secrets did his past hold? And, perhaps most importantly, what did the future have in store for a skeleton seeking answers in a world that had long since forgotten him?

As the night wore on, Vhid found solace in the silence, knowing that with each passing moment, he was one step closer to unraveling the mysteries of his existence. The journey ahead was uncertain, but he was determined to see it through, no matter what secrets the grave might reveal.