The Seer of Zeltiva (Closed)

[Anselm]

The Seer of Zeltiva (Open Social Thread) 08-91 Spring Marketplace in Zeltiva OOCDrop by, say hi. Get your fortune told. Share rumors of rare or unusual objects. Don't be put off by the curmudgeonly old man. You can pick any day between 08 and 91 Spring for your post. As was his custom, Anselm arrived at the marketplace early in the morning to set up his tent. The entire front side of the tent was tied back, creating a three-sided covered space. Inside sat Anselm behind a small table. A black cane with a silver handle leaned against the table beside him. A single chair was located in front of the table. Other than that, the tent was empty. A sign hung above the entrance: ANSELM THE SEER Fortune Telling, 5 sm Warning: Be careful what you ask for. Disclaimer: The management assumes no responsibility for appallingly bad news. ALSO A COLLECTOR OF RARE AND UNUSUAL OBJECTS RUMORS OF SUCH ARE WELCOME Anselm wore a long black cloak held closed at the neck by a silver brooch. A black hood covered his head and obscured his face somewhat in shadow. He did this not to hide the fact that he was Nuit, but to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to it. Besides, he thought it added a mysterious, almost spooky element to the overall atmosphere he was trying to create. Perception is everything, he thought to himself as he waited for his first customer.

[Leigo]

33rd of Spring, 512 AV A lanky man walked into the tent. For some strange reason, he wanted to burn it down. Perhaps it was the darkness that half obscured everything that got to him? Maybe it was the strange smell of old age? And perhaps it was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything. A strange stone lay in his hand, emitting cold from within. One more step. He hesitated to move further. Why were his clothes so awful? Why was the stone precious to him? That man in the darkness seemed familiar somehow. Just one more step. As he did it, Leigo realized just who he was, where he was and just how itchy his body felt. He tried to scope the tent while his thoughts were returning at a rapid pace. Trying not to stay disoriented, man kept his cool while sitting down in front of the smelly geezer. Onuo… what happened? Your mind drifted away again. Did I use magic? No. Thank you. The Irylid wasn’t the best familiar to have long chats with, so Leigo stopped himself while it still felt productive. Even though the alien talked in perfectly harmonious, frigid tones it still felt like the warmth of the summer sun. Truly, it was wonderful to have someone watch over you. That was something he missed dearly. As he remembered the inscriptions outside the tent and got his head back in gear, it was clearly noticeable that he wasn’t focused on anything but himself. Struggling to remain alert, he switched focus back at the shadowed man. “Tell me stranger, don’t I know you from somewhere?” the smell enticed his nostrils once more. He had sensed it before, recently. But where did that happen? “Apologies, how rude of me!” placing five silver mizas in front of the stranger, he gestured it was his turn to speak.

[Anselm]

Continued in Leigo's Fortune.

[Nira'lia]

20th Spring 'Bandages and medicine...' repeated Nira'lia in her head as she calmly walked through the marketplace. There were fewer people than usual, but Nira'lia was glad that the citizens, albeit few, were returning to the life they had before the storm brought mayhem to the city. The Konti woman scanned through the place, wondering where she might find the items she had been sent for. Then her eyes halted upon a sign -- 'Anselm The Seer', it read. Looking behind the table, Nira'lia saw the person named Anselm. He wore black clothes, and a hood hid most of his face, giving him a mysterious aura. A fortune-teller! In an instant, admiration built up in Nira’lia—the same kind of admiration that she felt for her mother. Nira'lia was blessed with Avalis's mark, and her mother was a skilfull fortune-teller who she learned from, but she knew she had a very long way to go before she could do what this man did for a living. "Rare and unusual items..." whispered Nira'lia under her breath as she continued to read the man's sign. That had caught her interest as much as the service that he was offering. But most of all, and even if it didn't make sense to a lot of people, she wanted her fortune told. She was a novice at it -- and she really didn't see the point of looking for her own future. Her mother, on the other hand, had no interest in answering her questions about the future. She looked around, and she knew she had time to spare. Smiling, and with much delicateness, she slowly walked over to the fortune teller. The Konti woman gave him a smile, her eyes sparkling. "Good morning, Sir Anselm," she said, the smile still on her face. "If it's not too much to ask... I... I would want my fortune told," she rummaged in her pocket and brought out five silver mizas which she gingerly places on the seer's table.

[Anselm]

Continued in Nira'Lia's Fortune.

[Anikah Abberley]

Mid-day, 31st of Summer, 512 AV Anikah didn’t particularly like the markets. They were much too crowded and smelt so strongly of fish and salt water that it was starting to give her a headache. A man elbowed past her and she glared, pulling her bag tight against her body. The one good thing about the market was that with so many people crowding into such narrow lanes it was easy enough to slip ones fingers into pockets, or to unlace coin pouches from belts. Yawning Anikah looked around, walking through the crowds slowly. The options of food were slim; there was fish of different shapes, sizes and colors at nearly every stall. Scales glimmered when the sun hit them and bright colors assaulted her eyes from every direction. The only red meat she had seen had been pickled in a jar. The thought on its own prompted her to pull a disgusted face. Looking around a tent caught her eye. While nearly every other stall had a crowd of bustling people arguing and haggling over its wares, this one was uncrowned. There was a sign hanging from the tents frame, but Anikah didn't even bother to read it, knowing that it would be a waste of time and effort. Curiosity prompted her to poke her head inside the dark tent. It was simply furnished, with nothing but a table and two chairs. There was a hooded man seated in the chair facing the tents mouth, his hands were on the table and he did not move. Anikah wondered if he were dead, for he certainly didn't smell like a living human. Edging further inside the tent she moved until she was standing behind the chair closest to her, sliding her hands through her long hair slowly.

[Anselm]

Continued in Anikah's Fortune.

[Sylkra]

Spring 34, 512 Sylkra walked through the marketplace, only to look around. She loved the place, the colorful shirts and pants, the noise of people yelling, and birds chirping. She walked along the stands. There was many different types. All kinds of races were selling fruits, swords, clothes, beer, animals.... Wait? Animals? She stopped and looked at an Human with brown hair selling dogs and cats. THis infuriated her... those animals were meant to be free in the wilderness. She was about to open her mouth to say something... but her eye caught a strange tent set up like it was no big deal. No one seemed to care either. She walked toward it, curious about who would set up a tent around all the stands. When she looked inside, she almost growled. It was a strange man, very dark and mysterious. He had a sign, that clearly printed: ANSELM THE SEER Fortune Telling, 5 sm Warning: Be careful what you ask for. Disclaimer: The management assumes no responsibility for appallingly bad news. ALSO A COLLECTOR OF RARE AND UNUSUAL OBJECTS RUMORS OF SUCH ARE WELCOME A fortune teller? She almost laughed. They couldn't actually- possibly see the future. But, she was curious on how it worked. So, she entered the tent and sat down. "Hi there," she whispered, a little nervous of the strange man, "Um... can I- can you, tell me my future?"

[Anselm]

Continued in Sylkra's Fortune.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

54th Day of Spring, 512 AV

Late in the day, Anselm heard a small explosion outside of his tent.

It wasn't an explosion of fire, but rather a bursting of metal, as tension released in catastrophic failure. Parts scattered across the ground, bursting out after a few springs had been wound far too tight, some of them rolling into the open flap of the tent. A moment later, a young redhead followed the parts in, grumbling and cursing under her breath as she leaned over to salvage the springs, gears, coils, and pins that had gotten everywhere. She had an armful of broken parts, the whole mess so discombobulated that it was impossible to tell what, if anything, it was supposed to be.

A few pieces had rolled under the little table, and the girl crawled down underneath without asking, still cursing as her grease-stained fingers gathered up the clockwork pieces.

From under the table, the girl's voice called out, "Oy! Can ya move your foot? I think you're steppin' on one..." Anselm would feel a tapping against his shoe as the girl tried to prod him to move his foot so that she could retrieve the last part.