Back in Beregost, Nixidea walk into the Inn inquiring the barmaids, the innkeeper and a few regular patrons. Who was that man? What did he come to do to the city? Every detail about the man killed by the Golden Wolf was important. Unveiling the identity of the targets could help to unveil the Golden Wolf motivations and patrons, maybe that way his mind will open to her and she could predict his future actions in order to catch him.
After the many questions, Nixidea booked a room. The only room that wasn’t booked yet. The room number 21. It has been cleaned and organized, but the rumors of the murder kept customers aside and reluctant. She wasn’t picky. Indeed, she needed that room.
At night she went inside leaving her things aside. She had a look to the room, recalling the elements of that scene: the burnt corpse next to the desk, the disorder, and the tailoring tools. With the wardrobe opened she even recalled the clothes inside. This was a very important part of the process.
She roamed around once and another; smoking from her thin, long and exotic pipe. The effect of the substance she drop into the bowl to wet the herb was slowly taking effect. The thin white snakes of smoke coming from the pipe were dancing and tangling all over the room. She felt her eyelids heavier, her cheeks were tingling, and she was relaxed. It was the time. She placed the little yellow bag with yarrow leaves under the pillow. She laid down in the bed. She closed her eyes and she set up that entire scene in her mind. In her hands she held the piece of chainmail and the strip of yellow fabric against her chest. And she sank in dreams.
The Dreamwolrd is fascinating; it connect us all, not only to the deepest paths of our mind, instinct and emotions but also to other’s. Sometimes dreams are even able to connect us to gods. Dreams can be prophetical; they can reveal the past but also foresee the future. Dreams can shape us and can make us experience things we would never experience otherwise. That was her field of study, and even when she has not yet unveiled all its secrets, she knew a good lot.
The yellow bag would call upon that prophetic dreams, and yarrow would be the bell to do so. Yarrow is a powerful plant which magic empower prophecies and helps with problem solving. Also, the distilled opium essence, smoked, helps to relax and sleep deeper. With this little ritual, Nixidea, look deep into his mind for clues unperceived; but she also tries to call upon the unconscious of that elf, recreating the scene in her dreams to lure him and find if he can show her what happened in that room. Perhaps this way she can find more clues about the skilled assassin called the Golden Wolf.
Last edited by HamsterHyde on Mon May 01, 2017 12:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Nixidea - The Witch of Dreams Coral - The Humming Mermaid Rakh'sha - The Master of Wonders
From the window, she can watch the market traders setting up the stands. It is early and the morning dew lay on the fields, flowers; but also on her pale skin. The white nightgown she is wearing, moisten by her sweat, barely conceals her curves. Yet feeling the cold death upon her skin, she closes the window.
During the bath, she cannot stop thinking about the bags, looking at the corner they were sitting. And studying the surroundings: floor, ceiling and walls; in order to find any notch or mark out of place where the bag was supposed to be. A glass of wine accompanies her. It still early, however she has to set in place all she has seen. A sudden knock on the door startle her: one of the barmaids came to wake her up and to check her needs. She might have heard her coming if she wasn’t so absorbed by her thoughts. With her heart drumming in her chest she leaves the bath and gets ready for another day.
Once down in the inn, during the breakfast, she asks the staff if they heard an explosion or felt any unusual vibration the night of the murder and if they have seen anyone, carrying two identical bags, leaving that night.
Fried eggs and some fresh vegetable go straight to her belly without much contemplation, the bill is paid, and she step out in the busy market. Heading east to the stables, she approaches Thodak. Knowing is the stableman who receive the caravans and takes good care of their horses, she ask him about the caravan in which the tailor came to town. Where was it coming from, what route was it taking and where did it stopped. With that information, decided, she begin the journey undoing the path the caravan did, stopping and asking around about that man. Who was him? Why did he take that caravan? What was he working in? She had a name but he was missing the man behind it.
Nixidea - The Witch of Dreams Coral - The Humming Mermaid Rakh'sha - The Master of Wonders
The caravan was shaking with every stone in the road the wooden wheels hit. The journey was booked in the last minute and she did not have much time to wait for the fanciest transport. Next to her, a kid is showering the road with his breakfast. Her mother, a humble woman, next to him is taping his back. Nixidea is beginning to feel sick as well, not due to the shake as the kid did, but due to the smell. The handkerchief covering her nose helps. In the bench in front of them, a man wearing a chain shirt and with rough features laugh at the situation annoyingly. “An adventurer…” She thinks. She is looking at the shiny chains, her mind travel a few days ago.
She gathered her belongings and stood out of the inn, heading quickly to the stables; a caravan was heading south and she wanted to take it. She was checking she had everything and walking quickly and distractedly; in such a way she could not avoid to bump into the two men that were idly speaking in front of Beregost city hall. Staggering aside she apologized automatically, inclining her head. Rising her face and looking at the men for first time she checked they did forgive her and continued her way. But suddenly something hit her mind, enlightening her, and forcing her to stop and turn back. The two men were wearing a chainmail with a yellow banner and the symbol of The Morning Lord. “Damnation! This is it!” She exclaimed to herself.
Completely forgetting the caravan, Nixidea returned hastily to the Inn and booked a room for a few more nights; and sitting in one of the tables she started to write the short letter she was sending to Mr. Koryneer. Once finished and dried, she folds it, introducing it in the envelope, sealing it, and leaving it prepared to be sent with a messenger.
Her eyes gaze outside through the window...
The shaking of the caravan is now uniform as it traveled along The High Road’s stone pavement. Nixidea glace over the main street with nostalgia. The City of Splendors is receiving her with the usual midday hustle and bustle. Mount Waterdeep stands as imposing as she remembers it. But there is no time for memories.
The next stop is Sapphire House. “I have never thought I would, once, have a room booked in this a place.” She thought. It is one of the most expensive Inns of the city. One could see, in occasions one or two of the Blackstaff apprentices having their meals or even spending a night in that place, all filled with luxury and fancy furniture.
Nixidea booked a room; the expenses of the trip were on Mr. Koryneer, as agreed. But that was not a whim. Of course, the little girl inside her will enjoy staying in a place she could only dream to step into, in her early days; however the reason she chose it was because it was the closest inn to the Market.
When she entered her room she could barely contain her awe: The red carpets with golden filigrees, the rococo furniture of polished wood, the huge bed in which she could even fit; expensive paintings in the wall, a wonderful full-body mirror, the long pillow of goose feathers; it was all breathtaking. And, from the window, across the street, there was the imposing Blackstaff tower. She enjoyed laying down in the bed and stretching there. And her feet were not sticking out! That was a pleasure she enjoyed for the first time in her life. Soon she fell asleep due to the exhaustion of the long journey.
The following day, in the morning, she makes her way to the market. Always busy and crowded, the market is the heart of the city; pumping locals, traders, artisans, and adventurers through the streets. They all go and come to buy, to sell, to look for work, or with other devious purposes. And yet, Waterdeep may be one of the safest cities in the Sword Coast.
Her first visit is to the local jewelers in order to buy a frame to display the blood red ruby given to her by Mr. Koryneer. Once set in the frame and this in a little chain, she placed it on her long neck, making contrast with her pearly skin and her elegant bearing. Of course, making sure the symbol of Hoar carved in it is visible. Koryneer assured her red jewels take Hoar’s followers attention due to its symbolism, and in particular this one will lure them and encourage them to contact her. The aim is to contact the Temple, and she was prepared. Carrying with her the ruby, that peculiar silver coin and the letter she asked the cleric to write for her; she walked around the market, frequenting the nearest and more remarkable taverns. Specially the Singing Sword, the closest to the market where many merchants gather; and the popular Sleepy Sylph.
Every time she placed a foot in one of them she thought: “Will I recognize anyone? Will they recognize me in this dress?” And indeed there was the kid that used to be the town crier, he was not a kid anymore, he did not remember her; and that old harlot, now she run her own place, she did not remember her; of course also that fat bartender cleaning glasses as he used to do years ago, and he… Well, probably he either.
He still as fat as always but his hair totally white and with new wrinkles she did not recall. He did not seem to remember her either. He treats her like someone important now; with a smile of irony she still remember how many times did he kicked her out of that place, hitting and spiting. She was not that tall by that time, but she is sure he wouldn’t dare to do so anymore. And now… Now she can notice the sparkle of greed and lust on his eyes. Pitiful man doomed to die on that side of the bar.
Nothing has changed, yet everything is different. How whimsical is time. But “Back to work!” she tells to herself. It is a good time to also enquiry about the caravan that took that tailor to Beregost; perhaps she can track someone with information, and hopefully the coachman.
Nixidea - The Witch of Dreams Coral - The Humming Mermaid Rakh'sha - The Master of Wonders
