An Uneventful Evening (Open)

[Anselm]

An Uneventful Evening (Open) The Evening of the 88th of Spring 512 The World's End Grotto in Zeltiva The World's End Grotto attracts an interesting mix of people, especially around dinner time and especially now that the city had mostly recovered from the Great Djed Storm of 512 and food was once again readily available. Two young couples occupied one of the tables, obviously together but just as obviously paired off. An older gentleman sat next to them, sharing his table with a much younger woman with long, wavy brown hair. They were engaged in an animated conversation. Behind them was an old couple, focused entirely on their soup. They did not appear to be conversing with each other or even acknowledging each others' presence. On the other side of the room were four comfortable-looking stuffed chairs set in a semi-circle around a blazing fireplace. Two young, well-dressed men occupied two of the chairs. They were arguing about something. One of them had a small bag attached to his belt by a leather cord. The remaining two chairs were occupied by a middle aged woman and a sailor, each nursing a mug of ale. They did not appear to be together. Beyond them was a table large enough to seat four people. A well-to-do-looking middle-aged woman and a young man in his late teens or early twenties were eating dinner together. She was doing most of the talking. He looked uncomfortable. At a three-person table located in a corner of the room, sat an old man wrapped in a full-length black cloak with a cowl covering his head and obscuring most of his face. He sat motionless, occasionally turn his head to one side or the other to take in a different part of the room. A lone glass of red wine occupied the space on the table directly in front of him. It had not been touched. He came here a few times a week to watch people, not to drink wine. At the moment he was watching a sturdy looking man in this mid-thirties sitting on the far side of the room. He and his companion, a young woman whose clothing suggested that she had seen better days and which revealed a significant amount of cleavage, had been drinking ale for some time now and were not entirely sober. There was something about the sturdy man that he found interesting.

[Kaeson Dakano]

Kaeson sighed, and continued walking aimlessly throughout the city. Visibly bored, Kaeson had wasted the majority of time spent in Syna's light looking around Zeltiva, exploring the many varieties the city offered. Now, as Kaeson passed along the famous Zeltivan docks, he watch as last Syna's light painted the twilight sky various hues of pink, red, and orange. Looking over to the Kelp Bar, Kaeson decided against entering the smelly waterhole and instead ventured back in to Zeltiva in hopes of finding a better place to spend later bells.

Time had passed since Kaeson had left the docks, Leth now reigned in the sky.

Looking around, Kaeson found himself in front of The World's End Grotto, probably the most famous inn in the port city, if not the most well known inn throughout Syliras. Growing, Kaeson had heard the odd story about the Inn near the ports in Syliras, and now that he was in Zeltiva, it was a wonder Kaeson hadn't bothered to see it sooner. Taking a second look at famous inn, Kaeson sighed disappointedly. He had always assumed the World's End Grotto would be...much more breathtaking, more marvelous then it actually appeared to be. Truth be told, it seemed a little run down. "But that might just have been storm damaged," Kaeson said to himself.

Inside Kaeson found himself among a plethora of people, all seemingly happy and enjoying their time here. Smiling, Kaeson wondered if the old inn was more then what it appeared to be. Kaeson had hardly enough time to take in details of those around him, seeing someone he thought he knew. Slowly, Kaeson approached an figure loosely covered from head to toe.

Sitting down before the covered figure, Kaeson said "How's the lock treating you, Anselm?"

[Anselm]

Anselm had been so focused on the sturdy man and the girl that he had failed to notice Kaeson's approach. He examined the young man dispassionately while he tried to remember who he was. It was several weeks ago. He thought to himself. He came to me to have his fortune read. He made an animated lock for me. He wanted to go to Sahova. Having figured out who he was, Anselm next had to decide what to do about him. The last thing in the world he wanted was a casual conversation comprised of inane small talk. To say that Anselm was not a people person would be a serious understatement. He found people endlessly fascinating because each person he met presented a kind of puzzle to solve or a mystery to unravel. But that didn't mean he liked them. And it certainly didn't mean he wanted to sit around chatting with them. How to keep this from turning into an actual conversation, that was the problem. Well, he thought. It would probably be best to ignore the question about the lock. That's bound to lead to chitty chatty stuff. “I thought you were going to Sahova,” he said in a gravelly, tired-sounding voice. OOC : Feel free to regale Anselm with inane chatter. He'll hate it . For example, pick someone out of the crowd and make up a story about them. That will drive the old Nuit nuts. But it might also force him to respond since it will strike him as irrational and lacking in factual basis.

[Kaeson Dakano]

"Sahova?" Kaeson repeated, giving Anselm a quizzical look. "Why would I go -- oh, right," Kaeson chuckled, suddenly remembering why he would be going to Sahova. "Zarik Mashaen," Kaeson whispered to Anselm, as if he was sharing an intimate secret with a friend. "So, why haven't I gone to Sahova?" Kaeson repeated, "Well, I need to animate something worth his time first, haven't I? I mean, you said I'd have to do some tasks or something, right? I figure that if I come with an amazingly well animated golem or something, he'd have to take me on as his apprentice, dontcha think?" Kaeson smiled as he finished. Anyone with eyes could tell the young man was brimming with excitement.

Kaeson waved his hand directly in front of the nuit's covered face, Anselm had neither looked at Kaeson nor bothered to give his own opinion of how would be the best way to convince Zarik Mashaen to take him on as an apprentice. "Maybe I should animate a scarf? Y'know, like the one he has?" Kaeson asked Anselm, trying to get the Nuit conversational. "Might as well be dead," Kaeson thought, giggling later as he realized Anselm technically was already dead.

Again, the Nuit seemed to be, well, asleep. "What his deal?" Kaeson thought, flashes of violet in his eyes showed annoyance. Usually, Kaeson would neither be so chatty nor so kind to someone who clearly wished to be left alone. Unfortunately for Anselm, Kaeson was neither familiar with many social ques and was in undeniabley good spirits. Kaeson felt like all he wanted to do was talk. And talk he did.

"Hey, Anslem," Kaeson whispered harshly, trying to get the Nuit's attention, "You see that couple over there?" he asked, nodding his head towards the older man and the much younger woman. "She is, to the mere observer, a simple hoar, but I know better," Kaeson was barely audible at this point, if the Nuit's interested were peaked, he would have to lean closer. Continuing with his obvious fabrication, Kaeson said, "In actuality, she's a fine lady of the Syliran court. Her name is...uh, Dona Bella if I remember correctly. I used to live besides her in Syliras, y'know. I, uh...laid with her once, I did. Quite the nymphomanic, or so the rumors say." Kaeson paused, clearly thinking about how he would continue this story about Dona Bella. "Do you know what else they say about the fair Dona Bella, Anselm? They say she left a scorned lover, a Knight of Syliras, and know he follows her desperately through all of Mizahar attempting to win her heart back," Again, Kaeson paused, trying to pull the story into a more dramatic angle. "And...uh, the knight...the knight, he, uh...he killssss people. I mean, he kills her lovers, as per usual for a scorned lover of the fair Dona Bella. For he longs for her touch, and the blood of those who touch her." Kaeson finished, smiling, wondering if Anselm had believed anything he had just said.

AnslemI had way too much fun thinking that up , haha

[Anselm]

Great, Anselm thought. A weaver of wild tales. And not a very good one at that. Despite the obvious fabrication, he found himself studying the young woman in question. After a few moments he turned his attention back to Kaeson. “She is the man's daughter,” he stated flatly. “And neither of them is from Syliras.” Noting the blank look on Kaeson's face, he explained. “Observe the girl. She is short, slender and muscular. She has dark brown hair with bluish-green highlights. Dark skin, round face, button nose, long delicate fingers. Clearly she is Vanthan.” He paused to give Kaeson a moment to verify this for himself. “Now observe the man. He, too, is relative short of stature, slender and muscular. He has sleek black hair with violet highlights. He too has dark skin, a round face, a smallish nose and long delicate fingers. Clearly he is Vanthan as well.” He paused again to let Kaeson catch up and then continued. “If you compare their facial features, you will observe that she is the spitting image of him. Clearly they are related. It is possible that they are siblings. But I do not think so. Their body language suggests that their's is a dominant-submissive relationship. The most likely explanation is that they are father and daughter. “Now that we have discerned their identity, would you care to speculate as to what brings them to Zeltiva?”

[Kaeson Dakano]

"His daughter?" Kaeson thought to himself, giving Anselm a puzzlingly look. "You don't really --," Kaeson stopped himself, interested in the Nuit's reasoning. Looking over his shoulder, Kaeson began to see the strong familiar resemblance the two shared. Indeed, as the Nuit had pointed out, the older man and much younger woman shared several features -- a round face, slender and firm body types, as well as the characteristically highlighted hair of the Vantha. Now that Anselm had so blatantly pointed out what had been so obvious, Kaeson wondered how he had missed the physical similarity they both obviously shared.

"Why they're here?" Kaeson asked, clearly clueless on how to respond. "But I bet I could find out," Kaeson thought, smirking to himself. After all, Anslem had apparently just pointed out the relation between the two strangers quickly, if not almost instanteously? Shifting in his seat, so as to get a better view of the foreign pair, Kaeson try to observe them as nonchantly as possible. Of course, Kaeson had no veil to cover his obvious prying eyes, so any other observer in the inn could clearly see where Kaeson's attentions were directed.

After several minutes, Kaeson spoke up.

"She lives here," Kaeson said, without much convinction in his voice. "She's tanner then her father and her hair looks like's it's been lightened by the sun," Kaeson added, although not entirely sure. For all he knew, the girl had just been born with darker skin and lighter hair then her assumed father. Kaeson had skipped over her pack, which upon closer observation would prove to be filled with books dedicated to social and anthropoic studies -- a more astute man, or rather Nuit, could see she was clearly a student at the university.

"So her father's come here on a social visit?" Kaeson asked Anselm.

AnselmA took some liberty with the situation, hope that's not a problem

[Anselm]

Kaeson : It would be hard to take too much liberty with any of these NPCs since I myself have absolutely no idea what their stories are . Anselm had passed over the girl's bag because he did not need to know its contents to know where she was from. But knowing why she was in Zeltiva was more challenging. While Kaeson studied her, Anselm focused on the bag. He concentrated and slowly it's aura became visible as a shadowy violet cloud clinging to the surface of the material. He increased his concentration and learned that it was indeed a bag. Duh, he thought to himself. He adjusted the focus of his Auristic vision so that it 'looked' past the material of the bag to 'see' what was inside. There he found several dense oblong objects. Getting information on one item while looking past another item, such as he was attempting now, was a skill Anselm was still learning to control. It was difficult to separate out multiple layers of auras. Eventually he filtered out the bag's aura and realized he was looking at books. He could not determine what kind of books they were but he now had enough information to surmise that she was a student at the University. He pulled back and turned his Auristic senses to the man. He was dressed as a gentleman, complete with a top hat that rested on the table and a scarf that remained draped around his neck. Anselm focused on the hat, which happily showed itself to be made of quality material, but revealed nothing else of interest. The scarf, however, produced the distinctive smell of the ocean in his nostrils. It had been to sea recently. He refocused on the girl and detected no hint of the sea on her, although he did notice an unpleasant sour taste in his mouth. I wonder what that is? He thought. “So her father's come here on a social visit?” Kaeson was asking as Anselm closed down his Auristic senses. He was feeling the strain and it took a moment to get his eyes to focus on Kaeson. “I believe you are on the right track,” he said. “The girl is a student at the University and has been here for at least one season. The father arrived by ship recently, possibly this very day. But I doubt very much it is just a social visit. More likely he is here to assess her progress and pay for her summer tuition and living expenses.” He offered no explanation as to how he discerned any of this. Much to his own surprise, Anselm decided to continue the game. Without turning his head in that direction he said, “Do you see the middle-aged woman in the stuffed chair near the fireplace? Tell me a story about her.” Anselm had been watching her for a while and she had barely sampled her ale, which he found odd.

[Kaeson Dakano]

"How do you know that?" Kaeson asked, ice blue eyes searching the Nuit's veil for unseen answers. Looking back of the father and daughter, Kaeson began to notice some important details he missed -- ones that Anselm had apparently seen, and understood as vital clues to the pair's identity. Taking a closer look at the young vantha's father, Kaeson saw a certain tiredness in the man's being. Every now and then, the older man's eyes fluttered as if he was fighting a losing battle to keep them open. Kaeson noticed the man's traveling cloths -- not exactly what one wears for a comfortable night at the bar. Upon the table, Kaeson saw the woman's hands laying on top of a book -- a book Anselm had presumably noticed before him. Kaeson turned his gaze back to the Nuit, wondering how exactly he was seeing so much behind the his darkened veil.

"Her?" Kaeson asked Anselm, gesturing to the middle aged woman sitting aside the warm fire. "A story about the lonely woman in the bar," Kaeson mumbled to himself, trying to take in as many details as he could about the woman before weaving his tale. Observing the woman, Kaeson first noticed the worn and tired look in her face. It was a look of defeat, something Kaeson saw many times during the famine. But Kaeson had seen defeat in the faces of the poor, rarely had he seen someone of the upper class carry such a sad mask -- the fine jewels and silk dressings that adorned the dejected woman clearly indicated she came from more impressive beginnings then anyone else in the bar could claim. "So why is she alone?" Kaeson thought, confused. Was it not dangerous for a woman of her standing to be alone?

Finally, Kaeson noticed the woman's fur traveling cloak -- indicating she had either come from or was leaving for the more Northern regions of Mizahar.

So, Kaeson began to tell Anselm the sad story of the lonely woman.

"Her name, I do not know, but the look in her eyes is enough to tell anyone that her story is one of sadness and one of loss." Kaeson started, carrying conviction in his voice. He had to be right, he had observed the woman, allowing her demeanor and wordly possessions to tell her tale. "She was widely rich once, and very much in love with a much younger and poorer man. Her family was against such a scandalous matching and forbade her to wed. And, uh," Kaeson paused, thinking of ways to string the story together. He already had the clues -- a sad face, a wealthy background, and a traveling cloak, all Kaeson needed now was filler. "Uh, the forbidden of course is much more alluring to someone who had everything. Which our mystery lady had, of course." Again, Kaeson paused, only to resume the story a few seconds later. "It was not to last, as her loved one did not love her as much as she had once thought. He, a cruel hearted man, cared only for the riches and comforts she possessed and stole them away one night, never to be heard from again. Now, she travels slowly to the north -- to Ravok. In hopes of striking a deal with the corrupted lord for revenge." Kaeson finished.

Looking at Anselm, Kaeson waited for the story to sink and asked, "Well, was I right?"

[Anselm]

Not a bad tale, Anselm thought to himself. Who knows? It might even be true. But he thought not. He continued to stare at Kaeson from the shadow of the cowl. “The traveling cloak does indeed appear to be of good quality and gives the impression of wealth. I admit that I am not yet able to account for it. But allow me offer some other observations about this woman that might help us draw a more accurate picture of her. Three to be exact. “First, if you look carefully at her jewelry, I believe you will find that it is fake. With the possible exception of her ring. I would have to get a closer look to be sure. “Second, if you look at her shoes, which I admit are difficult to see from this angle, I believe you will find that they are of inferior quality. “Third, it you watch the deck hand sitting next to her – who by the way I no longer believe to be a sailor - I believe you will find that the two of them occasionally exchange surreptitious glances. “Now, my dear Kaeson, do any of these facts materially effect your story?” Anselm abruptly turned his head toward the woman. The 'deck hand' had gotten up out of his chair and was staggering between the other three people and the fireplace. He was obviously drunk and was having considerable difficulty navigating. Then he tripped over his own feet and fell on to the man farthest from the woman. His friend leaned forward to help catch the drunk. At the same time, the woman produced a small knife and flicked it against the cord holding the man's money pouch, which she deftly caught with the same hand. In an instant the pouch and knife had disappeared beneath her cloak. The drunk was now sitting on the floor apologizing and slobbering. Serra Danalle herself, the proprietor of the Grotto, appeared and bustled over to the altercation. She signaled to one of her staff, a husky looking young man, who helped the drunk up and escorted him out into the night. Serra apologized profusely and offered to provide free drinks to the two men for the remainder of the evening, which they accepted. As she turned to leave, Anselm raised a gloved hand and signaled for her to come to their table, which she did. She leaned toward Anselm and he whispered something in her ear. She thought for a moment, nodded and left the room, only to return a moment later with two burly looking men who placed themselves near the exit. “My dear Kaeson,” said Anselm. “I believe the woman's story has gotten more complicated than we at first thought. If we wait for a moment, I believe it will get even more interesting.” Anselm concentrated his Djed in his left arm and carefully “pushed” his astral arm out of his physical body. The arm went limp. He moved the invisible arm out toward the middle of the room, which was about as far away from his body as it could go. He hoped he wouldn't have to wait long because the effort required to sustain the arm at this distance was considerable. Fortunately the woman rose and moved toward the exit. As she crossed the room she passed by Anselm's invisible arm, the hand of which he used to grab hold of her cloak and yank. It flew off her shoulders and deposited itself in the middle of the table at which sat the two young couples. Needless to say, they were surprised. As was the woman, for the stolen money bag she had in her hand hidden under her cloak was now visible for all to see. The commotion caught the attention of the two men by the fireplace and the one who had been robbed suddenly realized that is bag was gone and that the woman had it in her possession. She made a dash for the door but Serra's men were already there and that was as far as she got. “Well,” said Anselm. “I do believe her ring has a real diamond in it after all.” He carefully drew the astral arm back and reattached it. Just then Serra Danalle appeared at their table with a glass of wine, which she set in front of Kaeson. “On the house. You get the wine because Anselm doesn't drink wine. Or anything else for that matter.“ She smiled at her own joke and walked away. Anselm explained. “I have on more than one occasion been of some assistance to the proprietor of this establishment. Most likely that is the real reason she lets me sit here without buying anything other than a single glass of wine.” He looked around the room. “Does anyone else in the room interest you?”

[Kaeson Dakano]

Fake jewelry, fake shoes, and a fake sailor. Three very important clues Kaeson had failed to notice.

"Yeah...yeah, they would," Kaeson said, taking a brief moment to quickly look over the middle aged woman again. This time, Kaeson noticed the waxy sheen that shown off the jewels -- a clear indicator of their falsehood. His eyes slowly trailed down the woman's figured, and finally reached a pair of broken brown flats -- once again, proving Anselm correct in his observation. If Kaeson's attention had not been caught by a bumbling drunk, much like the attentions of the rest of the inn, he would have seen the middle aged woman flash a quick smile to the questionable sailor.

Of course, just like the rest of the inn, excluding Anselm, Kaeson had been too focused of the drunken man to notice the middle aged woman swipe the drunken fool's coin purse. Stifling a laugh, Kaeson looked over to see how Anselm was taking these recent happenings. "Can nuits even laugh,?" Kaeson wondered to himself, letting at a brief snort at the idea of Anselm laughing. While Kaeson wasn't surprised to see the solem nuit unmoving in his expression, he was surprised to see Anselm whispering something to a bar maid. Not wishing to alert the Nuit to his own naivety as to what had just transpired between the undead and the barmaid, Kaeson's eyes followed the bar maid as she went to go speak to two burly men -- and then Kaeson watched them as they placed themselves besides the exit.

"What are they doing?" Kaeson whispered to himself, only to hear Anselm mention something about a complicating story. "What are you talking about?" Kaeson asked, only to be answered by the sudden thud of a heavy cloak against the table. Turning to the source of the sound, Kaeson was surprised to see the middle age woman carrying a very full coin purse, which had apparently belonged to the drunk. "She's a thief?" Kaeson asked, adding, "How did you -- how did they --, OH!" Kaeson exclaimed, adding,"You told them, didn't you, Anselm? Never would've figured you as the good Samaritan type."

Briefly nodding in thanks to the bar maid who brought him the wine, Kaeson eyes briefly widened as she joked about Anselm never drinking. "She knows?!" Kaeson whispered, completely thrown off by this news.

"So...this is a regular thing, then? You come in, save the day, and they let you pretend to drink wine?" Kaeson asked, taking a sip from the glass before him. It was oddly acidic, too much so for Kaeson tastes. Looking back down at the wine, Kaeson took another swig before muttering,"Well, it was free...and it's much better then Kelp Beer," shaking a little as the memories of the green sludge came rushing back to him.

Kaeson nodded, and slowly began to scan the crowd, looking for someone of interest. A flash of light, and a torn dressed that revealed a significant amount of cleavage caught his interest.

"Her," Kaeson breathed, eyes transfixed not on the plain women but on the amulet that graced her blemished neck. Kaeson ignored the man who sat besides the unsightly woman, focusing instead on the ornate golden amulet she wore. It shimmered in the candlelight, almost unnaturally so -- bright enough to bring attention to itself, but not so much as to raise much suspicion in a large crowd like the one in the inn. It's center jewel is what kept Kaeson staring, obviously enthralled. It was large, and oval in shape; it's ruby colored seemingly dancing in the light. "Beautiful," Kaeson whispered to himself.

But something was off. Why would someone so obviously poor and ugly, own something so beautiful? Kaeson frowned, "She's a thief," he thought. "Hey, hey -," Kaeson started, but stopped once the woman with the ornate amulet turned to face him.

And she was beautiful, and Kaeson's suspicious thoughts were no more. Surely, he had imagined the blemished on her neck? Surely, the rips and wear of her dress was a trick of the light? The olive skinned woman before him bore no resemblance to the woman she was -- no, the woman Kaeson had thought she'd been. But she was, she wore the same amulet. "She's beautiful," Kaeson said aloud, unaware that he and the man who shared the table with the exotic beauty shared the same face, the same emotions.

AnselmI hope you don't mind with what I added - I figure Anselm would at least be interested by an amulet like this, :]