Just a Suggestion

[Anselm]

Just a Suggestion Evening of the 74th of Spring 512 World's End Grotto in Zeltiva The more Anselm stared at it, the more he wanted it. But how to get it? It was a beautifully crafted dagger. Small, only about eight inches long, safely tucked into an equally beautiful leather sheath. It was clearly intended to be ornamental, hanging loosely from the man's belt on a leather cord along with a small leather bag hanging from an identical leather cord. The man himself was probably in his mid twenties. He had long, wavy chestnut-brown hair that many a woman would have killed for. Heavy dark eyebrows overlooked brown eyes and a patrician nose that sat comfortably on a slightly pinched face. He wore black leather pants, a light blue silk shirt and a well-cared for pair of brown leather shoes. The belt was made from the skin of an animal that had had golden brown fur with dark brown stripes. He was sitting in a relaxed, confident pose at a table in the World's End Grotto with two companions. The three of them had finished off a dinner of venison, boiled potatoes and some kind of green beans. They were now working through generous pieces of apply pie. Anselm was impressed. He didn't think that kind of food could be had for any price these days. Looking around the room, he could see that he was not the only one who was watching the party in disbelief. The woman was younger than he and had straight blond hair hanging down to her waste. She was wearing a frilly green skirt that reached down to her shiny black shoes, and a pastel pink blouse with a low neckline that revealed more than a hint of ample breasts. Her bubbly laugh floated across the room as she giggled at his jokes, often reaching over to touch his arm. She had consumed several glasses of wine and was well beyond tipsy. Her chair was turned so that she mostly faced the man rather than the table. His other companion was a more serious man, and older. He had drunk no wine as far as Anselm could tell, and he spent very little time looking at the young man or the young woman. Instead, he eyes constantly roamed the room as though looking for something. He had a longsword and looked like a man who was used to fighting. Anselm was seated two tables away from the party. The intervening table was unoccupied. He drew himself inward into a light meditative state and let his mind reach out and explore the dagger's aura. Had he any breath he would have gasped. It was old. Very old. Possibly pre-Valterrian old. Anselm wondered if the young dandy had any idea what he had dangling so casually from his belt. He let his mind explore the leather bag and determined that it contained gold mizas. A lot of them. But it was the dagger that interested him. How to get it? They had finished their desert and the last of their wine and were getting ready to leave. Anselm carefully detached his astral left hand from his body and projected it over to the young man. He gently pulled on the knot holding the money bag. It didn't give. He tugged harder and was rewarded by the knot loosening. He continued pulling on it here and there until the leather bag finally dropped to the floor with a thud. Fortunately, it struck the floor in the middle of a particularly loud laugh from the more-than-tipsy girl. Nobody heard it. He pulled his astral hand back and carefully re-attached it to his body. The party of three was on their feet and headed for the staircase that lead to the rooms above. The older man was in the lead. Anselm stood and called out, “Excuse me, m'lord. I believe you have dropped something.” He got up and shuffled over to their table, where he pointed to the bag sitting innocently on the floor. “Oh dear,” said the young man as he walked quickly back to the table. He bent down and picked up the bag. As he stood back up, he was for a moment face-to-face with Anselm and peered at the strange old man whose face was hidden within the hood of his cloak. Anselm locked his gray eyes on the young man's and placed a suggestion in his mind: I should reward the old man for his honesty. “My dear fellow,” the dandy said. “You have shown extraordinary honesty and have thereby saved me a great deal of inconvenience.” He began untying the bag. “Such honesty should be rewarded.” “I will not take money for being an honest man,” said Anselm. “However, I could not help but notice the small dagger hanging from your belt. I am a collector of such things myself.” He paused. “It's just a suggestion.” This caused the man to look at him again. Anselm again locked his gray eyes on the young man's brown eyes and placed another suggestion in his mind: I should give the old man the trinket. “Then you shall have it, sir.” he said with the gusto typical of a man who has had too much wine. He removed the dagger and leather cord from his belt and held it out. Anselm took the gift and placed yet another thought in the boy's mind: You have made an old man happy. You have done well. Anselm said, “You have made an old man happy, m'Lord.” The dandy rejoined his companions feeling especially virtuous, and then disappeared up the stairs. Anselm returned to his table feeling especially pleased, and sat down with his new treasure. Not bad, old man, he thought. Not bad at all. Lucky for you he was drunk. It was late when Anselm left the World's End Grotto. He went there every Saturday night, which made him a familiar fixture. He did not go there to eat or drink, although he always bought a glass of wine. He went there to observe people. He turned a corner and found himself face-to-face with a solidly built man who grabbed his arm and gently but firmly pulled him into the shadows. “The dagger, please.” It was the dandy's companion. He spoke quietly, almost politely, but with a voice that somehow made it clear that it wasn't a suggestion. Anselm didn't even think about arguing. He retrieved the dagger from an inside pocket and handed it to the man. Then the man was gone and Anselm was left alone on a dark street. It had all happened so fast that he wasn't entire sure what had happened. Well, thought Anselm. That was interesting. The next day, Anselm met a thief.

[Nai'shee]

75th of Spring 512AV, in the Marketplace Nai'shee was in pretty good mood that afternoon, as usual. She was in good shape again and willing to do something fun. She knew she should get on with her work, since she couldn't steal for a long time while her hands were recovering and she needed a worthy job. Still, she didn't know where to go. Her reputation was well known in illegal circles of Zeltiva and somebody would usually find her if he searched well enough. Still, while she was away nobody knew what happened, so lower-grade people probably thought she isn't available anymore, for whichever reason. She could just wander around the city, hoping to rob some spoiled royalty who came as tourists or find some Kelvic to ask for hunting together. Much to her surprise she found something new in the city. She noticed it before, but Gods know that she already made up at least ten reasons for it to be there instead of approaching. But now she finally realized that little, three-sided black tent had unknown purpose to her. She saw it had a sign, so she approached to read. ANSELM THE SEER, it said. Anselm? Was that the old man she knew from time when she was hunting those mages? That stupid Reimancer who left her those scars... Fortune telling, 5sm. Oh, he found just perfect time, she lacked the money and now it was impossible not to enter and see the whole thing. She wondered if that person had some real gift, or was he just tricking the public. She couldn't help but enter, slowly, carefully. She wondered if somebody might be inside, but she found only a man, hooded, the same as he was when she met him, sitting peacefully and waiting for customers. They seemed to be rare, judging from his appearance, he didn't seem too busy. He surely had lots of customers by now, he held this tent here for a while, but it didn't mean he had more than one or two per day. "Mr Anselm", she said, unsure of how to address him. She would usually just go and address people by their first names, but she always imagined people older than thirty-five deserved 'Mr' and 'Ms' from her. She hoped he would recognize her, she didn't know why exactly.

[Anselm]

It had been a slow day. He had had only one customer and that had been in the morning. A sailor wanting to know whether he should settle down in Zeltiva and marry a baker's daughter he had managed to get pregnant, or high-tail it out of town on the next merchant ship. Anselm had read him a fortune that in effect said, “Do the right thing.” Although it said it much more eloquently than that. The man went away happy with his answer. Anselm wondered if it would occur to him that nothing in the oracle had said what “the right thing” might be in this case. But that was the nature of fortune telling. At its best, it helped people discover what it is they really want to do. Anselm considered this a public service of sorts, although he insisted his customers pay him for it. Even a Nuit has to make a living. Absolutely nothing had happened since then. But that was alright because it gave him plenty of time to think about the dagger. And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it. It was old, like him. It had the feel of a varied life, like his. It was quite possibly a rare, pre-Valterrian antiquity and might be worth a lot of money. Not that Anselm was all that interested in its monetary value. He just wanted to own the dagger, to add it to his collection, to be able to take it out now and then and admire it. But how to get it back? That was the question. He was still turning this problem over in his mind when he saw her approaching his tent. He recognized her immediately. By the time she reached the entrance he had come up with her name. Now he stared at her with cold gray eyes and wondered, Why is she here? I hope saving her life the other day isn't going to result in any awkwardness. As a rule, Anselm tried to avoid awkward situations. They were unpredictable, and the old Nuit preferred things predictable. Although ... if she feels she owes me some kind of debt … “My dear Nai'shee,” he said almost enthusiastically, although a casual observer might not have identified it as enthusiasm because he always managed to sound like he was gargling gravel when he spoke. “How good it is to see you again. Sit, please.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture that might possibly have indicated the chair opposite him. “And please call me Anselm. It is my name, after all, and I don't believe I know anyone named 'Mister'.” He smiled inwardly at his little joke. Anselm really didn't have much of a sense of humor, but he had been working on it lately and was pleased with his progress. It seemed mostly a matter of incongruities. Even better if they sneak up on you and surprise you. Like, “There once was a masochist from Nantucket who loved taking ice cold showers first thing in the morning. So he didn't.” This joke always struck him as hilarious and it would probably cause him to break out in laughter if he could ever figure out how to get his body to laugh properly. “My dear, your arm seems to be healing up quite nicely,” he said as he folded his gloved hands together on the table in front of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Even a Nuit can be charming when he has a reason to be.

[Nai'shee]

"Pleasure is mine", she replied as she sat, opposite to the man. Somehow this position made things look more serious, although Nai'shee didn't feel close to serious, as usual. She gave an unsure smile to Anselm's joke. She wasn't sure if the point was simple joke she understood or something beyond her communication abilities, but the old man smiled, so she guessed she should too. She took a look around the tent, but she didn't recognize most objects. Was he really a collector? She wondered what would he do if he saw contains of her little bag. "Oh, yeah. I visited infirmary, somebody carried me to over there. It's mostly due to their help that it healed so quickly. Thank you very much for helping me back then." She actually didn't remember anything from back then, because she collapsed, but she was told that the old man pretty much saved her life. She wasn't filled with the details of the story, but she could imagine glassbakers or some of the wizards attacking her. She was very grateful to the man and she hoped to pay back her debt, but she knew there was no use to tell that to him now. She was pretty sure he was aware of that, anyways. Her hands were, in fact, completely healed, but burns left some scars which she will probably carry for a lifetime. Also, there were visible traces of wounds on her palms, the ones from her Reimancy initiation a while ago. "Actually, nothing special brings me here. I, believe it or not, didn't notice your tent up until now. Well, I could use my absence as excuse, because I was forbidden from going around until around fifteen days ago, due to my wounds. I thought it might be interesting to get my fortune told. I also hoped we could talk a bit, if you're not busy, since I'm currently free." She shrugged, tossing one Miza from her pocket on the table. She didn't have sliver ones by herself and Anselm probably had a change anyways. "I don't have sliver coins", she added, just in case.

[Anselm]

Oh great, he thought dryly. She just stopped by for a little chat. Like I need a little chat with a little girl. She appeared to be making an attempt to befriend him. The old Nuit did not have much use for friends. He had only two friends in Zeltiva: Ndale Soromund, whom he considered a friend but had no idea why, and old Charad, with whom he sometimes played chess at the Scholar's Forum. On the other hand, he had even less use for enemies, and allies were always a good thing. Had the girl noticed the cold emptiness in his dead staring eyes, she might have been less inclined toward cheerful chatter. And had she noticed the ugly purple bruising around his eyes, she might have been altogether more circumspect. And had she noticed the skin hanging loosely from his jowls as though it was melting and about to slide off his face and on to the table, she might not have spoken at all. And had she noticed the rather large boil prominently displayed on the left side of his nose oozing a thick dark green substance that dribbled down the side of his face, she might have jumped from her chair and fled. But she noticed none of these things because Anselm's head was covered with a deep black hood that cast a shadow over most of his face. This, combined with the lack of any lighting in the tent other than what found its way in through the entrance, effectively obscured all these things and left the girl blissfully unaware that she was in the presence of a truly disgusting creature. Not that Anselm cared what she thought about him. He had long ago come to terms with the less-that-ideal side effects of living in other people's corpses, and he did not really attempt to hide his racial identity. But neither did he go out of his way to advertise it. The head-to-toe cloak served the dual purpose of keeping his identity in the background while adding a certain gravitas to the aura of mystery he was trying to create. It was all about marketing. “For you, my dear, I wave my usual fee,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I usually ask my customers if they have a question. But I suspect that you do not have one with you today. No matter. Let us see what we shall see, shall we?” He had recently taken a liking to this odd little phrase. He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small cloth sack tied with a leather cord. He slowly untied it and poured the contents into his right hand, which he held out so that Nai'shee could see what he had. What he had was a set of eighteen tiny bones with intricate designs carved into them. The designs had no meaning. He knew this because he had carved them himself. They were for dramatic effect. Still holding his right hand open between them, he quickly reached across the table with his left hand and placed two fingers gently on the back of her right hand. Anselm always wore a pair of thin cloth gloves when working with customers. There were two reasons for this. First, they covered his hands, which had a tendency to look like dead flesh. Which of course they were. Second, they saved his customers the often disconcerting touch of cold clammy skin when he place two fingers on the back of their hands, as he was doing now. As he touched her hand, he turned his right hand over, letting the tiny bones tumble to the table with a clatter. To the unobservant it would have appeared as though he had simply tossed them randomly. But in fact there was more skill involved that would first meet the eye. As he released the bones, Anselm gave his hand a slight twist which resulted in the bones landing in a rough pattern of six rows of three bones each. This, in turn, enabled him to determine which oracle to “read”. He studied the bones carefully for a few moments. This was not entirely for dramatic effect. He needed those few moments to dredge through his memory and locate the correct oracle from among the sixty-four oracles his master had taught him. Having found what he was looking for, he solemnly intoned the ancient words. The solemn intoning part was entirely for dramatic effect. Water above, danger. Water below, also danger. Going from one danger to another, Yet able to get through successfully in spite of danger. It is therefore called mastering pitfalls. Anselm did not really believe in fortune-telling. At least not in the sense most people thought of it. His master had taught him sixty-four ancient words of wisdom. The throw of the bones pointed him to one of those words. As near as he could tell, it didn't matter which of the sixty-four words of wisdom he offered to someone. What mattered was the question, spoken or not, that they brought to the words. But every once in a while he found himself wondering if there might not be more to it. Certainly his master had believed there was. He was wondering about that now, because he detected an emotional spike in her aura at the words, "Mastering pitfalls," and at the very same moment, he remembered something Charad had said to him a few days ago. Now that is interesting, he thought. He carefully gathered up his bones and put them back into the sack, which then disappeared into a pocket sewn into the inside of his cloak. He folded his hands on the table in front of himself and stared at Nai'shee in silence while he pondered his next move. Eventually he decided to take a direct approach. “Tell me, my dear,” he said. “What do you do for a living?” OOC : The oracle is from the twenty-ninth hexagram of the I Ching or Book of Changes. See bibliography.

[Nai'shee]

She wondered if she should ask something concrete, but she knew any questions on her mind would be in the answer already if there's any truth in this whole thing. She allowed Anselm continue his work. He actually pulled out some small bones from a small cloth sack. Bones were really tiny and they had some symbols carved into them. She had no idea what those meant, or if they meant anything, so she just watched. When the man reached for her, her first impulse was to back off, it was kind of sudden. However, she didn't, so he caught her hand. He had wore the gloves and she could not feel the warmth of his skin, which was weird for her. Anselm rose his other hand and tossed the bones on the table. The pattern those made meant nothing to Nai'shee. She could not see any logic. She noticed they were tossed in six rows, but anything else didn't make any sense. However, Anselm was in deep thought about it. Did it have some logic anyways? She quietly listened to his fortune. At first, she ignored the rest and she was happy about water surrounding whatever he was talking about, but after that childish moment vanished she noticed that he referred to water as danger. That word sounded so familiar, she could feel it, taste it. Danger. The thing that concerned her was that the whole thing had sense. Her life was danger, wasn't it? Does it mean usual or something bigger? However, it wasn't until last two words that she really believed. Mastering pitfalls. Her eyes were shining for a moment. This meant something big. But it also said that she'll successfully manage to get trough it. She guessed the whole thing will earn her money or something even bigger. Danger always goes alongside with gain, protecting it. Did this mean some great job? Or was it concerning her planned journey? Old man's question caught her off guard. In that moment, she didn't see any reason to lie to him. What did this old man, a tourist and not so popular person here for some reason, mean? He probably won't even be interested in the story after she names her occupation and he could find her a customer one day, anyway. She surpassed a sigh, wondering how one should tell this information. She repeated it quite often, yet, she still did not learn how to say it without surprising people. She gone straight forward, instead. She looked in the place covered in shadows, place where she thought she saw a silhouette of man's eyes. "I'm a thief."

[Anselm]

Ah, he thought to himself. It is indeed the woman Charad mentioned. He took a moment to decide to best to proceed. “My dear,” he said. “I wonder if I might interest you in a little business proposition for which you might have just the right skills?” He took hold of his cane, heaved himself out of his chair and walked to the entrance of the tent where he untied the flaps and closed them. The room was darker now, but there was enough light to see. He made his way back to his chair and sat down tiredly. He continued. “There is an item – a small dagger – that I acquired and that means a great deal to me. Unfortunately it was stolen from me and is now in the hands of a young dandy staying at the World's End Grotto along with two companions: a young woman and a rather intimidating man who I suspect is skilled in the more violent arts. I believe they are from out of town. I do not know how long they will be staying but I do not think it will be for long.” He paused for a moment. The sounds of the busy marketplace found their way into the tent and added their chaotic background noise to the conversation. He thought he could hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Might be a change in weather coming our way, he thought. “The dandy is, I believe, quite well off. I think it quite possible that the dagger will remain in their room when they go out. If you could somehow find your way into their room at that time, it might be possible to retrieve the dagger. As to what other items of interest you might find there, I cannot say, but I imagine you would have no difficulty finding something of sufficient value to repay your effort. The dagger is all that I am interested in.” He paused again as though in deep thought. “What do you say, my dear thief?” OOC : I see two ways to go from here. We could end the thread here and you can start a new one. Or we can just continue with this thread. Personally I'd prefer to continue with this one. You are free to write as many posts as you want, as though it were a solo thread. Anselm won't appear again until you return to his tent either to report or bring information or bring the dagger.

[Nai'shee]

She wasn't too surprised that he didn't mind it, since most people she decided to tell were used to it. Still, his response did surprise her. Did that mean that she knew about her job? Where did he find out that from? Was there something in this silly fortune telling or did she really get the rumor spread? She knew it was most likely going to happen one day, but this was completely wrong time! "Of course I wouldn't mind, you can tell me more about that. But still, there is one question I would like you to answer before. Do you mind telling me how did you know about my job? Was it just a accident for you to ask?" She didn't even consider the last thing. There were no such a accidents, especially not with a man like this. He seemed like a type who asked only things he needed to know. So, normally, there was some sarcasm in the way she spoke last sentence. She did not mean to offend him in any way, but she couldn't help thinking that would be obvious excuse to cover a possible friend he heard that from. She was grateful that he checked for possible unwanted visitors, since she couldn't do that without seeming a bit rude and that wasn't a choice, now when he was potential customer. She silently listened to his story. Dagger was, somehow, the item most wanted these days. It was mostly some pirates searching for decorative weapons which were already someone's or it's respective owners wanting it back. She even recalled stealing the same thing from both sides one time. It was funny until pirate found out. World's End Grotto was a place well known to her. She stayed there few times during Winter and cold nights of the year. She talked to Serra Danalle many times, but it was mostly as customer. However, she was glad she already knew the place well enough. It wouldn't seem strange if she was seen there either. One of the companions was what worried her the most. That means possible danger if she gets caught. She always counted prison in, but some people weren't willing to wait for guards. However, it wasn't her first time facing a danger like that. The money she might find was huge award, considering her current need of money, so she was glad she was probably getting more than expected. By man's short description guests seemed pretty rich. "I guess it's fair deal. I would also need a good description of a dagger I'm searching for, along with the looks of those three. You wouldn't want me to confuse it for some other dagger, would you?" OOCSure. I thought to start new Solos, but I guess it's fine either way, if you find it easier like this it would be great and we could also improvise if she had to meet Anselm again in meantime for some reason, instead of doing another thread. I'll just go and post everything here, then.

[Anselm]

“My dear,” he said. “I am delighted.” And he was. Or at least as delighted as a Nuit ever gets. But there was probably no indication of it on his face or in his tone of voice. “Please act quickly. It would be a shame if the party in question were to leave Zeltiva before you are able to secure the dagger.” He provided her with the requested descriptions. “You know where to find me.” He rose, went to the entrance of the tent and tied the flaps open again, allowing sunlight to flood into the tiny space. “Oh, as to my 'lucky' guess about your profession, it might be better if I said nothing further. I am sure that you, of all people, can appreciate the need for confidentiality in such matters. “Good hunting, my dear Nai'shee.” OOC : You have the thread until you initiate your next contact with Anselm.

[Nai'shee]

76th of Spring 512AV, at World's end Grotto It was quiet loud tonight. It seemed like bunch of gamblers came to the place and played some card game. Nai'shee didn't know how to play, so it wasn't too interesting to watch. Gambling? What's the point of wasting your money in such a way? She mostly spent those nights quietly standing in the corner with a glass of wine and book borrowed from University's library. She didn't really pay much attention at the book, ever nor she should have. She observed all of the people who walked in, out or stayed. Finally, after two days, she did found her target. Man in leather pants, gray silk shirt and with strange belt came downstairs. He seemed completely airy, worried. His brown hair was unexpectedly messy and jumped off the whole picture since he was too stylish to handle. Obviously rich. He looked exactly like Anslem claimed. He was followed by an older man, looking much more concentrated. Serious. Their eyes met for an instant, but Nai'shee carelessly looked away, cursing herself for being so obvious. She subtly kept observing them. The man walked pretty fast and he got to the innkeeper, who was currently cleaning glasses at the bar. Nai'shee downed wine from her glass, checked page in the book and went straight there to get some more. She shyly approached, acting like she feels bad to interrupt the man, so she just stood behind. Guard suspiciously looked at her few times, but she couldn't notice that, since she seemingly didn't pay attention on them. She tried hard to look confused and impatient. "Oh, I'm glad to hear that. Does she need something more? More alcohol? Or ice?" Innkeeper didn't seem to worried about 'her', but was obviously trying to impress young rich man. He didn't pay much attention, he probably didn't care and he was certainly somewhere else. "No, no, she's fine now. We got rid of fever and doctor said she'll be alright soon. We might even be able to leave tomorrow..." "I'm so sorry to hear that, Sir! I hoped you'll stay longer. Visit us again if you ever-" "I", he began loudly, giving him sign to shut up, "just wanted to ask if you mind carrying her meal upstairs? It would be better if she rested some more today." "Of course, Sir, right away", he said, carried away. "And what did you want?", he turned to Nai'shee, speaking little harshly. She was probably keeping him busy from serving this young man. She looked at him strictly, but she decided she shouldn't make a mess right now. At least it gave her a moment to pause until those two left. "I just wanted more wine", she said, offering her glass back. She already drank one whole pitcher and it wasn't exactly the most common thing to do while studying. She was extremely nervous waiting and now she finally had her target. The man grinned, but soon enough she got another pitcher. She decided not to really drink from this one, since she didn't want to get drunk tonight. It was probably last chance for her to get that dagger. She arrogantly tossed two more silver coins to the innkeeper, which was the most she could do to punish his behavior currently. As she got back to her spot, avoiding happy cries of people around her who just won the round, she caught glance of a shoe on the top of stairway. They were turning right. The room she rent first night, so she could scan trough hallways upstairs, was on the left. There were only two rooms at their part of hallway. It will be pretty easy to find them that way. But, unfortunately, it didn't seem like they will be going out for the walk. That damned woman! How did she got sick, anyways, it wasn't even too cold? They might be from some even warmer region. Desert? They surely didn't seem like Benshira, but they might spent some time souther. She sat back on her seat, thinking. Maybe she should give up. She was seen already and they will identify her pretty quickly if she's spotted. But she lost three days in hope to gain lots of money from this one. And she wanted to impress Anselm, as well. For no particular reason, tho. He was just the man she knew from somewhere, but she was embarrassed to show weakness. He was well aware that this was her only skill and job and saying that she couldn't do it would be against her stubbornness. She'll have to figure a way to finish this job. OOCSorry for the delay. I'll wrap this up as soon as I think of some realistic way to finish it myself. I know you tried to make it an easy task, but I like challenges.^^ For grader-2GM for the room the other day and -4sm for wine