Inoadar
Still in pursuit of details needed to craft an end to the monstrous fish-beast in Lake Ravok, Inoadar had plied the ferry system more than most would dare. He wanted as many glimpses of the thing as he could manage. He had a theory as to how it could be killed without affecting the ecosystem too drastically, but he needed to get an accurate estimate of its size. Fish tales were notoriously inaccurate.
Whether by good luck or bad, he had not had more than a pair of glimpses of a single hump cresting the surface near ten and twenty days prior. He rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, knowing how many white-faced citizens would have called him a mad man and told him to be GLAD he did not encounter the beast more frequently. He dismissed that attitude with a grunt. Patience was as much a virtue to be nurtured as strength. He would continue spending what free time he had, waiting for signs that might allow him to formulate some sort of schedule of locations and appearances for the monster. Once he could predict where the beast would show, it was his.
There had a been a small number of excursions to the far side of the lake as well. On the surface, this was to meet with representatives of Norvis Barton, the smuggler and furniture manufacturer, whose lumber crews plied the eastern shore. Their past misunderstandings behind them, they were now finding many profitable enterprises to share. But also, Inoadar went to hear rumors, and to follow up on them to gauge their accuracy, or lack thereof.
It was not that there was insufficient information from which to glean tendencies of the beast's travels. It was that they often conflicted, and much discussion was required to sift through the exaggerations. Much of this "discussion" bordered on interrogation, but Inoadar was more than willing to go to such extremes to gain the data required to serve his lord Rhysol. If the subjects of his questionings were less enthusiastic, they were free to bring their complaints to the Ebonstryfe. It did not appear that had any had.
He was returning from one such excursion, arriving at the Lakeshore Outpost to await the ferry, when he saw an unfamiliar woman speaking with the guards. It was not as if Inoadar would ever claim to know every woman in Ravok, but he felt that he knew, or knew OF, every woman of consequence there. At the very least he knew an important name when he heard one.
This woman radiated...something. Poise, confidence, power...all of the above. His intrigue was as complete as it was immediate, though anyone looking would have thought his concentration was on nothing in particular. He strained through the wind tugging his eardrums to catch the name...'Annalisa Marin'...Curiously unfamiliar, he repressed the urge to approach, figuring there would be ample time to strike up conversation on the ferry trip back to the city.
She apparently realized there was going to be some wait ahead of her, and turned to look for a spot to relax. In the process, her face turned toward him. Not for long, but long enough for him to see her single white eye! It took all his focus not to stare, or let his arms hang limp, or let his haw drop, or do a double-take, or any other evident display of shock. Nor was he entirely sure he had succeeded, for there may have been just a hitch in her turn as she looked away. 'Had she taken notice of me?' he asked himself. This was crucial to decide. It had huge impact on how he would approach her.
But then, secondary anxieties surfaced. 'Why should she not be given quicker pass through to the ferry dock? Why should the guards even search her if she is an Acolyte?' All the other Acolytes Inoadar had observed were treated with more deference by these guards. She was treated as any other first-time visitor. 'How could she have the sign of such preference by Rhysol and not be a citizen, at the very least? Could the eyes be a ruse? A disguise? Is she intending to infiltrate our city?'
He ran back through the other comments he'd heard, 'A foreigner..on a pilgrimage...' he looked away as an uncontrolled scowl crossed his features. Any pilgrimage must have come by way of Nyka, unless he was to believe she had crossed the wilds alone. His suspicions began to flare. A woman of obvious competence, most likely from Nyka, wearing sign of favor to clear the guards, but not claiming to be a citizen...He decided she was either a Black Sun operative, returning from a mission to one of the cities victimized by gods opposed to the righteous rule of Rhysol, or she herself is an enemy, be it a enemy of the entire city, or just an enemy of Inoadar, sent like so many others before; from Nyka, seeking bounty money.
Even as these thoughts took form, he was adjusting his look, slowly bit by bit, to be unnoticeable, a tuck here, a turn out there, an adjustment of fit to add the appearance of weight, a recomb to appear slightly balding, a puff to his cheeks, a slouch to reduce height. Bit by bit, he was a different man by the time he boarded the ferry a bell later. Unless she initiated some contact, he would follow her and see if she reported to the Temple. The they would see what would be what.
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