Several days east of the legendary city of Baldur's Gate, not far from Elturgard, lay a township called
Errol's Vale. While certainly not a true city, neither was Errol's Vale a mere village, having
grown fairly prosperous from its access to the river and the two aforementioned cities by extension.
This prosperity was soon crowned by the completion of the legendary Greenmantle Manor—the
largest, most opulent, and most splendid Halfling home in all of Faerun, built by famed bard Maros
Greenmantle for his family. Built into a massive hill at the center of town—tall enough to be visible
from outside the town limits—Greenmantle Manor was a sight to behold both inside and out. The
hillside featured multiple carefully-tended terraces of flowers, trees, and shrubs from all across the
Sword Coast, with a spiral path winding around the mountain paved with smooth limestone cobble and
lit with magical lanterns guiding visitors through wonderous gardens to its exquisitely-carved oaken
doors at the peak of the hill. There were fourteen floors and many rooms, all filled to the brim with the
most expensive and beautiful items the Greenmantle fortune could purchase. By the fifth generation of
the Greenmantle clan, they were said to be so wealthy that the Gods themselves were envious.

It was this blasphemy, some say, that led to the destruction of Greenmantle Manor not long after.

An earthquake of terrible strength occurred, ripping through the region and nearly flattening the hill to
two-thirds its former height, devastating the external beauty and causing the deaths of all who were
within the famous home. Some access remained, and through that many an adventurer sought to dig up
the riches left behind, buried under the earth... but all fled in terror at the mysterious ghostly hands that
attacked them. Word spread of the Manor being a place of dread, and due to its reputation the town
decided to abandon all thought of recovering its treasures.

Ceibo pondered on this as she observed the massive hill from the base; a kobold druid, she had made a
minor name for herself in the region through both her skill in the magical arts as well as her tendency to
take any work at all, even things like pet rescue, escorting caravans, and other so-called “boring jobs"
that many of her peers saw as being beneath their status as adventurers. If it allowed her to explore the
world and keep her busy, she took the job, pay being secondary in her mind to the joy of activity. That
being said, the offer the town had given to anyone who could cleanse Greenmantle Manor of its
haunting—namely, ownership of the property itself and all that lay within—was nothing to sneeze at.
Lifting the silken veil from her face briefly to get a greater appreciation of the massive hill, she smiled
in spite of its ruined appearance; the light from the moon and stars seemed to illuminate the entire
structure in a strangely ethereal and beautiful way.

“Well," she said with a chipper voice, “I couldn't ask for a better sign!" With that, Ceibo began
navigating the old spiral path, floating just above the ground, held aloft by her moonlight-enhanced
magic, her purple silken robe and gown flowing behind her like ripples of night, the sequins
shimmering in the darkness as they reflected the moon and stars. As she made her way up the path, she
took note of various little details in the small garden areas she passed through; to her, they seemed to
tell a story all their own, of a family who loved all that grew, as much as she loved the night sky. There
was a certain intellectual order to it all as well, evident even after so long in a ruined state. The way
certain stone statues and pillars had fallen spoke of carefully-planned arrangements, and the
overgrowth revealed just enough of its original beauty to show the intent behind every planting. At last,
Ceibo came to the end of the trail, at the top of the hill, where the entrance lay; that, too, was worthy of
a moment or two of silent appreciation in her mind. Most halfling homes had roughly the same outward
appearance: two or three roundish windows with simple glass panes, and a single round door with basic
decorative carving, if any. Greenmantle Manor, on the other hand, greeted its visitors with five
windows; a small window just above the main double doors, and two more windows on either side. The
outermost windows on either side were diamond-shaped, the inner ones circular, and the one above the
door a hexagon; colorful stained glass adorned the windows, each one with a different image of
halflings in various situations of living, always surrounded by things that grew. The oaken double doors
were strangely free of wood rot—perhaps magically treated?—and covered in etchings of flowers,
vines, and decorative magical runes that gave off a soft glow, all tastefully arranged to give the doors
an artistic flair without diminishing the more simplistic beauty that most halfling architecture strove
for. The dried-up remains of a small natural water spring lay just under a small stone “bridge" of two or
three blocks connecting the path to the door; thinking back upon the path that had led her here, Ceibo
realized that in the heyday of Greenmantle Manor, this would have led to the entire stone path lined by
trickling water that would irrigate all the gardens on the hill. What I would not have given to see it in its
glory, she thought. Oh well; maybe after I fix this place up, I can find a way to get the spring flowing again.

With a deep breath, the kobold druid carefully opened the doors, and—after a quick spell to check the
air quality produced satisfactory results—stepped inside. Now, Ceibo's smile turned into a frown. The
exterior, in spite of its ruined state, still held quite a bit of beauty; here, inside, much of the first couple
of chambers had already been looted, and what had been left behind was wrecked either by the looters
as they searched for anything of even slight monetary value, or by the earthquake that had destroyed
the Manor in the first place. Sighing, she took out her notebook and began to jot down her plan of
action as she came up with it. “So... first up, locate the origin point of the hauntings. These first few
rooms are looted, but people quickly got scared away, so it stands to reason that at some point going
deeper in, I'll see less signs of that; therefore, the first relatively untouched area should be the main
focal point of the phenomena." Wandering through the ruined hallways, she indeed began to see a
change, with more and more of the original furniture and baubles remaining. Seeing what remained of
the original splendor gave her yet another feeling of sadness; she had always felt disdain for the way
other adventurers saw treasure. To most in her profession, anything and everything could be looked
upon in purely monetary terms, and treasure existed for the sole purpose of being sold for gold; to
Ceibo, treasure was something to admire, like a fine painting or a moonlit landscape, taking in the
beauty and craftsmanship in much the same way one might take in the contents of a good book. And
from what she had seen, the Greenmantle family had similar feelings; every single item she could see,
much like the stone and plants outside, were clearly selected with care for how well they would fit with
the intricately-planned décor of the interior, never trading away substance for glitz. The look was rich,
but not gaudy; fine, but not overly opulent. Truly, Greenmantle Manor was as much a work of art as it
was a home...

“...ess..."

Ceibo whipped around, her claws aiming a prepared cantrip at the sudden, faint voice that came and
went like a silent breeze and that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Guess I
found the source of the haunting..."

“...ant it... ress..."

The voice returned, but no phantasmal hands or misty forms appeared. After a few more moments on
her guard, Ceibo began to relax and go back to her exploration... only to feel a sudden tug at the hem of
her gown. Whipping around, she saw a small ghostly hand grasping at it; with a quick motion of her
hands, she sent a minor spell of light to dissuade the unwelcome assault. The hand let go and vanished
without being struck, though, and she could've sworn she'd heard a frightened gasp and a small sob
from the same ghostly voice. “Rude," she said with a huff, unafraid of the ghost but still quite annoyed.
“At least let me survey the place a little more before you start doing weird ghost stuff." After a few
moments of waiting for a repeat offense, she relaxed her guard and continued her exploration. As she
progressed, she kept a careful eye on the surroundings—particularly the support beams, some of which
definitely looked to have had severe damage. More than once, she'd either used her druidic magic to
repair the wood timbers, or avoid certain hallways entirely for fear of collapse. “Wow, the earthquake
really did a number on this place."

“...at veil!"

Ceibo prepared a spell as the voice returned, but was unable to keep a ghost hand from taking the veil
off her head and zooming away with it. “HEY! Give that back—"

“...that dress too!"

The voice suddenly becoming more clear and forceful startled Ceibo just enough that she also failed to
prevent two other ghost hands from appearing and removing the top layer of her dress. “What the—?!
Stop it!"

But the voice—now audible enough to hear as light and youthful, but with a strange sense of
androgyny—ignored the kobold's protests as more ghost hands appeared. “Rings! Necklace!"

Fighting off the hands as they grasped at her jewelry, Ceibo's temper finally flared enough for her to
instinctively unleash a more powerful spell. “ENOUGH!" With a bright flash of light, the hands
retreated down a nearby hallway as Ceibo glared after them. “I'm normally a nice person. I don't lose
my cool that often. But I have my limits! Leave my clothes alone, or I might not be so nice when I
finally send your spirit on to the next life you stupid—"

The sound of sobbing stopped her; Ceibo felt her anger begin to dissipate and be replaced with pity.
“I... I'm sorry. Hello? Ghost person? You don't have to be sad... I didn't mean it." Moving down the
hallway she had seen the hands retreat through, the kobold came to a ruined bedroom. It wasn't a
master bedroom, but it was certainly intended for a long-term resident and family member as opposed
to a guest or servant; the walls were faded, but the small patches of remaining paint implied a soft, light
palette of warm pastels. A small wooden sword—little more than a carved toy—lay in a decayed
wastebasket in a corner, as if thrown there contemptuously. On the floor, next to a table, a small portrait
lay face-down. Flipping it over carefully, she hummed in thought as it proved to be that of a young
preteen halfling male, but the face of the portrait had been roughly torn, as if someone had taken some
small, sharp household implement and dragged it back and forth over the painting multiple times in a
fury; a rusted pair of scissors on the remains of the table confirmed that hypothesis. It was the body-
length wall mirror on the far side of the room that told the final part of the story—namely, the small
halfling skeleton in front of the mirror, with a fallen timber beam having landed on its skull and ended
the poor individual in what must have been an instant.

“I... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

The voice returned, softly sobbing; looking up, Ceibo saw the transparent form of a young halfling—
the same one from the portrait—floating in front of her, holding out her stolen articles of clothing and
weeping The spirit wore highly traditional clothing, but it seemed torn, and not in the manner that one
would expect from spirits—indeed, it was as if the spirit had died wearing torn clothes. Something
clicked in her mind; needing confirmation on her thoughts, she calmly looked at the spirit. “Who are
you?"

“My name is... was... Donnel Greenmantle."

“Was this your room?"

Donnel nodded. “Yes. It was... that's my body there in front of the mirror, too."

“I see," Ceibo replied with a somber look. “...so tell me. You damaged your own portrait and threw that
sword in the wastebasket, right? Did you tear up your own clothes before you died?"

“Um..."

The nervous, almost guilty look on the spirit's face gave further confirmation to the working hypothesis
Ceibo had. Knowing she was on the right track, she paused, and asked the next few questions in as soft
and kind a tone as she could muster. “Why do you steal only the clothes of women adventurers? Does it
have something to do with your last moments?"

“I... I...!"

“Shhh," Ceibo said with a warm smile, “It's okay. You can tell me."

After a long pause, the ghost floated over to its skeleton, looking down at it before looking up into the
mirror at its missing reflection. “All my life I felt wrong. I never knew why. I didn't like boys' stuff. It
fit me fine—everything was tailored for me—but at the same time, it felt like it didn't fit me at all.
Mother and father seemed to know what was wrong with me, but they... it was like they hated me for
it and I didn't even know what 'it' was. They forced me to wear as boyish stuff as possible, do lots of
boyish things... I hated it. All of it. And I didn't know why. Sometimes I'd look at my own face in the
mirror or in a portrait and want to tear it off. Then... one day, out of nowhere, I figured it out: I
wasn't a boy. Not really. I looked at myself in the mirror, still hating myself... but now I was
imagining myself with long hair, wearing fancy gowns and dresses, trying to think of some way to
buy stuff like that in town and bring it back to try it on without Mother or Father finding out..."

“And then the earthquake happened?"

The spirit nodded, then started weeping again. “It... it's not fair! I just figured it out! Why did it have
to happen then?! Why couldn't it have waited for me to change into something that actually fit me?!
Now I'm stuck in the same awful clothes I died in forever! All I wanted... all... all I wanted was—!"

Ceibo felt her pity swell. “Oh, honey, I'm so sorry..." Suddenly, an idea came to her. “Hmm... I know
what to do! I know a couple of illusion spells; I'll lend you my clothes, and then I'll cast what I see into
the mirror so you can see what you look like wearing them! How about that... Danielle?"

The ghost looked up, confused... then a hesitant but expectant twitch upward at the corners of her
mouth betrayed her emotions. “...Okay..."

With a smile, the kobold druid removed all but her underclothes and gave them to the spirit, who
eagerly put them on. With a wave of her claws and a few mystical words, a shimmering image
appeared in the mirror of the spirit wearing the flowing gown, silken dress and veil, and sparkling
jewelry. “Ta-da~!"

The ghost looked at herself for the first time since her death, and utterly beamed at what she saw. “I—!
I'm pretty!"

“Danielle, dear," Ceibo said with a warm smile, “You're more than that—you're beautiful."

The shade of Danielle Greenmantle turned to look at Ceibo, the praise having brought on new tears—
this time of utter joy and peace rather than sorrow and despair. Her form began to glow softly, with
light sparkles appearing here and there, the telltale signs of a spirit about to finally pass on. “Thank
you... oh, Gods, thank you so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Slowly but surely, the
cries of gratitude and joy faded along with her form, leaving Ceibo alone in the room.

It took her a few moments before she realized that the spirit had somehow taken her clothing with her
to the other side. “Oh.... crud. Heh, it's for a good cause anyway. And I could always borrow some of
the greenery around here to make some new temporary things..." With that, Ceibo began to walk back
towards the entrance, shivering from the cold slightly but somehow feeling perfectly warm anyway.