[1.01] Haunted Fortunes
Anya had spent the day in town. Her boss had no work for her in the coming few days, waiting for deliveries from out of town, crafting new merchandise - and with Sunday coming up, he had told her to check back in on Oathday. She did not mind, she had plenty of gold saved up, and Liris - her martial mentor, friend and cousin, was out of town anyway. After making sure old Daria was set with food for the day, something she did to show her care but which she did not need to do since Daria was quite capable of caring for herself, she left Trail's End and walked into town. A quick stop to buy half a loaf of bread and one slice of cheap pork sausage, then a long stop at High Bridge, watching a fishing vessel enter Jeggare River and moor in West Dock, watching one of the hippogriff riders of the Sable Company fly over the river - daydreaming and eating. Then on towards the peninsula and the main part of the city, right when the city guards were about to chase her away for disturbing the order or for possibly blocking the passage should three carriages pass over the bridge towards Korvosa and navigate between the houses in one of those narrow passages or whatever rotten excuse they could come up with to bother a seemingly jobless Varisian like herself. She did not want to bother them though, carrying that heavy pick she had stolen off of a traveling dwarf's cart so long ago, she was always a bit on edge these days and did not want to get into trouble.
Once on the other side of the bridge, she got to it. A quick pass by the gate to Gray District to try and find one of the Pharasmites - preferably one of the women, they were always more helpful, while the men found it oh-so-important to watch for any moldy old skeleton that might SUDDENLY rise up and kill innocent children (of which there were hardly any in Gray District throughout a whole day) - yielded nothing, she did not spot a single person. That might be for the best, Anya found them all rather ridiculous either way, the Pharasmites. Then on towards The Heights. It should not be hard to find a guard willing to tell if they know something about this crime lord, to someone offering to help searching and give information back if any is found. It was hard though, as it turns out. Three guards refused to even look at her; one told her flat out that he would not aid a druggie make her connections and that frankly he should take her to jail to teach her a lesson; after which a guard looking old enough to retire, out of sympathy, told her everything he knew - which turned out to be nothing more than what she knew already. Gaedren is a dangerous man, thank you very much for that.
A couple of young girls in Midland, looking to be Varisians like herself, pointed her in the direction of a suspicious lair, and things got interesting. After half an hour of climbing through the shingles, trying to follow their cryptic description of the way to the place they had stumbled upon in one of their games, she found a man who looked like he had been twice as old as old Daria herself when he died - and now probably several weeks older. She gave up, reported the dead old man to a couple of guards who did not seem to care at all, and entered a tavern for an early supper.
"The vision, the vision, the vision..." she mumbled to herself, staring at the card. The sun still was not setting, and it seemed to her like she had been walking around for three whole days already, just waiting! There was a small, hard knot in her belly, fear, but she tried not to feel for it. She felt light and alive, the card and its appearance fascinated her. And made her nervous, afraid. No, not afraid, she did not want to be afraid! But she was. "But what does it meeeaaan?!" she said out of frustration. "I wish Daria was here." Daria knew harrowing, and Anya had tried to learn most of it, but it was hard. Putting the card in her pocket, Anya walked up to the house. She was a young woman, though old enough to have a family. She looked capable. Alert, cautious, strong. Her bright reddish hair did not reveal it, but the multi-colored and patterned scarf wrapped around her waist did show her Varisian heritage, her belonging to the generally lower-class human people originating from the area around Korvosa. Thankfully, the scarf covered most of the sharp heavy pick she carried for defense, as well as the daggers. The spellbook strapped to her belt was somewhat harder to conceal. Walking towards the house, she nearly jumped in fright over nothing but the built up suspense of the situation as she first caught the smell of flowers from the home, curious to find out what this was all about.