HOME | DD

Description
Nausulus’ personal belongings laid in the back room of his shop, the one usually used for storing inventory. As I crossed the room toward the draping of crimson brocade that adorned the otherwise blank wall, the sounds that usually filled the streets seemed to fade into silence, although the main city was simply strides away, separated only by a thin sheet of glass. The door in the corner that lead to the back room was covered by a curtain (to keep it from “scaring away the customers,” I recalled Nausulus saying) and certainly looked imposing once I drew the heavy red fabric back in order to access it.

The door itself was somewhat remarkable: a dark, green tinged wood (maybe yew? ‘An odd material for a door,’ I thought) in thin strips covered its face, but I bet if I knocked I would have heard regular oak underneath. It was also laid very flush with the wall. There was no stone casement before the door itself. More daunting than the door were the runes that were carved into it and the messy script in an ancient language that obviously meant “keep out!” When I pushed on the door (it had no knob, just a smooth surface), the runes became hot to the touch and glowed bright white, but thankfully no more than that happened. I crossed the threshold into the room.

The first thing that hit me was a wave of cloyingly sweet incense fumes that had not been able to escape through the small vertical slit of a window. Instead it eagerly engulfed whoever entered the room. In this case, that person was me. I reeled backward and almost fell, but my hand caught the doorframe just in time. The smell was similar to that of the flowery streets outside, but intensified tenfold. It was unbearable until I raised my collar to filter the air. Some of the scent still reached my poor nose, but it gave me a chance to look around without swooning.

At first I couldn’t see anything. It was so dark in comparison to the brightly illuminated store front that to my eyes, high noon became midnight with one blink. Once my pupils expanded to cover all of the color of my irises (how could I tell? I checked the mirror on the wall beside the door), I could see why this room didn’t have any candles. Guests, whether they were unwelcome or Nausulus’ own apprentice-slash-errand-runner, were obviously not expected, and besides, who would want the light to see the mess? Knowing my master, I knew that Nausulus would have kept an “out of sight out of mind” mentality about his old quarters.

The floors, shelves, chair, and bed were all littered with fast food containers from the establishment down the street. Some were empty, but some weren’t. What astonished me was that the city’s local rat colony hadn’t found this place yet. They were usually quite good when it came to relieving humans of their food. Placed strategically so that anyone in the room would have to tread carefully or face tripping were heavy, leather-bound tomes and little dishes of the incense: the source of the heavy haze of brutally sweet smoke.

The peculiar thing was, despite the enormous potential for it, this room contained not a speck of dust or a spore of mold, and everything looked utterly sparkling. Despite the untidiness, it was curiously clean. The incense was still smoldering, and a misplaced apple (it was probably lost among the greasy turkey legs and E-Z Grog, but it was predictably unbitten. Nausulus resisted any attempt made to get him to eat healthier) was still ripe. It appeared as if Nausulus had just stepped out to help a wayward citizen, rather than the real reason. He was on the run and in hiding.

I finally found the reason I had ventured this far. It was in a wardrobe in the corner whose doors stood ajar. The only thing in the closet was a lonely looking scroll, but there had obviously been many more like it stacked alongside it at one point. It too, looked brand new and was still furled in its original tube shape, but when I picked it up and unrolled it, I felt the softness of parchment that was often pored over by its owner, and saw the notes made in a different hand than that of the author in the margins. The diagrams matched those scratched onto the door, but these had a few more lines that added to the complexity of the shapes. ‘What could Nausulus need this for, above all his other documents?’ I wondered. ‘And if it is so important, what caused him to forget it?’

Disembodied whispers and an eerie moaning echoed through the room. It was probably just the wind, but with Nausulus I could never be too careful. I grabbed the scroll and stuffed it into the inside pocket of my long overcoat and winced as I heard a pronounced rip. Hopefully it was the coat, rather than the paper. I pushed the door aside and blinked in the sudden brightness of the shop, whose windows served to give it a flattering natural lighting, perfect for its old purpose (selling enchanted artifacts). Now I suspected Nausulus paid the rent just so he wouldn’t have to clean his room up. Instead, one of those things included in the clutter probably possessed a preservation spell of some sort. I shook my head at how lazy my master was. He wouldn’t even leave his hidey hole these days. Despite this, I re-covered the door with the brocade curtain.

Once on the street, I was forced to dodge a mob of brightly-clad revelers, shouting about free alcohol. Maybe Nausulus was smarter than he was lazy, in spite of everything. After all, it wasn’t wise for a man on the run from the queen of Demons to be out on her festival day, even if he was a Halfling himself. I immersed my head in the folds of my hood and into the familiar warmth and pop-hissing frying food sound of the nearby grog house. It would be a great way to get rid of the stink of the incense; drown it with the smell of roasting meats.

Description
Nausulus’ personal belongings laid in the back room of his shop, the one usually used for storing inventory. As I crossed the room toward the draping of crimson brocade that adorned the otherwise blank wall, the sounds that usually filled the streets seemed to fade into silence, although the main city was simply strides away, separated only by a thin sheet of glass. The door in the corner that lead to the back room was covered by a curtain (to keep it from “scaring away the customers,” I recalled Nausulus saying) and certainly looked imposing once I drew the heavy red fabric back in order to access it.

The door itself was somewhat remarkable: a dark, green tinged wood (maybe yew? ‘An odd material for a door,’ I thought) in thin strips covered its face, but I bet if I knocked I would have heard regular oak underneath. It was also laid very flush with the wall. There was no stone casement before the door itself. More daunting than the door were the runes that were carved into it and the messy script in an ancient language that obviously meant “keep out!” When I pushed on the door (it had no knob, just a smooth surface), the runes became hot to the touch and glowed bright white, but thankfully no more than that happened. I crossed the threshold into the room.

The first thing that hit me was a wave of cloyingly sweet incense fumes that had not been able to escape through the small vertical slit of a window. Instead it eagerly engulfed whoever entered the room. In this case, that person was me. I reeled backward and almost fell, but my hand caught the doorframe just in time. The smell was similar to that of the flowery streets outside, but intensified tenfold. It was unbearable until I raised my collar to filter the air. Some of the scent still reached my poor nose, but it gave me a chance to look around without swooning.

At first I couldn’t see anything. It was so dark in comparison to the brightly illuminated store front that to my eyes, high noon became midnight with one blink. Once my pupils expanded to cover all of the color of my irises (how could I tell? I checked the mirror on the wall beside the door), I could see why this room didn’t have any candles. Guests, whether they were unwelcome or Nausulus’ own apprentice-slash-errand-runner, were obviously not expected, and besides, who would want the light to see the mess? Knowing my master, I knew that Nausulus would have kept an “out of sight out of mind” mentality about his old quarters.

The floors, shelves, chair, and bed were all littered with fast food containers from the establishment down the street. Some were empty, but some weren’t. What astonished me was that the city’s local rat colony hadn’t found this place yet. They were usually quite good when it came to relieving humans of their food. Placed strategically so that anyone in the room would have to tread carefully or face tripping were heavy, leather-bound tomes and little dishes of the incense: the source of the heavy haze of brutally sweet smoke.

The peculiar thing was, despite the enormous potential for it, this room contained not a speck of dust or a spore of mold, and everything looked utterly sparkling. Despite the untidiness, it was curiously clean. The incense was still smoldering, and a misplaced apple (it was probably lost among the greasy turkey legs and E-Z Grog, but it was predictably unbitten. Nausulus resisted any attempt made to get him to eat healthier) was still ripe. It appeared as if Nausulus had just stepped out to help a wayward citizen, rather than the real reason. He was on the run and in hiding.

I finally found the reason I had ventured this far. It was in a wardrobe in the corner whose doors stood ajar. The only thing in the closet was a lonely looking scroll, but there had obviously been many more like it stacked alongside it at one point. It too, looked brand new and was still furled in its original tube shape, but when I picked it up and unrolled it, I felt the softness of parchment that was often pored over by its owner, and saw the notes made in a different hand than that of the author in the margins. The diagrams matched those scratched onto the door, but these had a few more lines that added to the complexity of the shapes. ‘What could Nausulus need this for, above all his other documents?’ I wondered. ‘And if it is so important, what caused him to forget it?’

Disembodied whispers and an eerie moaning echoed through the room. It was probably just the wind, but with Nausulus I could never be too careful. I grabbed the scroll and stuffed it into the inside pocket of my long overcoat and winced as I heard a pronounced rip. Hopefully it was the coat, rather than the paper. I pushed the door aside and blinked in the sudden brightness of the shop, whose windows served to give it a flattering natural lighting, perfect for its old purpose (selling enchanted artifacts). Now I suspected Nausulus paid the rent just so he wouldn’t have to clean his room up. Instead, one of those things included in the clutter probably possessed a preservation spell of some sort. I shook my head at how lazy my master was. He wouldn’t even leave his hidey hole these days. Despite this, I re-covered the door with the brocade curtain.

Once on the street, I was forced to dodge a mob of brightly-clad revelers, shouting about free alcohol. Maybe Nausulus was smarter than he was lazy, in spite of everything. After all, it wasn’t wise for a man on the run from the queen of Demons to be out on her festival day, even if he was a Halfling himself. I immersed my head in the folds of my hood and into the familiar warmth and pop-hissing frying food sound of the nearby grog house. It would be a great way to get rid of the stink of the incense; drown it with the smell of roasting meats.