I'm trying something very different in this chapter as well as figuring out how to seamlessly integrate descriptions (especially expositional ones) into the storytelling. I probably need some more practise with these types of scenes so that I can get the 'flow' exactly the way I want, but all-in-all it should be serviceable.

LINK: Norchapel & Little Calimshan, Outer City, Interactive Map, World Anvil.

Note! Little Calimshan is about 2.5x larger in the map above. This is due to the houses being rendered cartoonishly small otherwise and it's not like there isn't enough space to make it bigger.

No cascade. No migraine. It makes no sense.

Clive was making his thinking face. "Yer sure this hasn't happened before? Drawing that much power? Ye did mentioned the Shadowcurse helped with yer power back then."

Nyx rubbed her face and plopped backwards onto the bed, bouncing Clive with a grunt. Indeed, she had used the curse to control her power, but not like this. She frowned at the ceiling.

Or have I?

Vague memories drifted to the forefront of her mind. Inaudible conversations. Impressions. It was like a word sitting on the tip of her tongue, but the name wouldn't surface. "I don't know."

"Hmmph, or don't remember. They don't call her the Lady of Loss for nothin'. And ye we're not entirely yerself then either."

She groaned, half in agreement and half in annoyance.

What else have I forgotten?

"What did the Vamp say?"

"That it looked like things were about to get very scary."

"HAR!" He shifted, making himself comfortable, his folds sagging in on themselves. "Ye think ye can do it again?"

A scoff blew past her lips. "No, not unless I'm caught on the wrong end of an explosion again. Besides, I'm pretty useless afterwards."

"Last resort then."

She hmmed, and held her hand to the ceiling. Her skin was still a little red and tender, but no lasting damage. Her thoughts drifted to the captives that didn't make it; her chest felt tight, her eyes threatening to tear up. The deep well of sadness bubbled up and it filled the room.

So much senseless death. A boy without a mother.

Her body and eyelids heavy, her mind drifted, blanketed by fatigue.

Clive chuckled somewhere in the distance, rousing her, and said. "A doze should do ye good. Don't mind if I do meself... Ye still have a long day ahead."

"Yeah, Astarion said so too." She mumbled.

"Good to hear he still has his priorities straight." Clive grumbled for a bit longer, but she was already ushered into a dreamless sleep.

---  --- ---

Astarion stared out of the window, watching the sky fade from purple to dark blue. Torn between letting her sleep and waking her to come with him. Clive was snoring away; it's not like she'll be alone. Then again, she'll likely see herself to the show if they don't wake her. He sighed and remained rooted in place. The sky turned from blue to black.

She stirred. "Time to get ready?"

"If you're up for it." He said to the window.

"I think so, besides I would prefer not to be in my own company tonight."

He frowned, and she gave him a small but warm smile and said, "Too many things to think about."

Ghosts. Distractions only keep them away for so long.

He gave her a lopsided grin and lulled, "I'd like nothing more."

I too, would prefer a distraction.

She took his proffered hand and stood from the bed. Clive woke and made his farewell, leaving them to their preparations.

---

The Calimshanite outfits favoured flow and movement, not bulk or ostentation. He tied the accompanying sash around his waist; the fabric elevated the dark slate outfit from plain to sophisticated with the addition of its deep garnet. He turned when Nyx came out of the bathroom, dressed in the colour of wheat that illuminated her skin. She huffed while fretting with her sash of the same garnet colour.

A smile spread on his lips, and he tutted, batting her hands away. "Like so." Nimble fingers folded the material and arranged it into a flat, square knot.

"Thanks, I was about to throw it out of the window."

He laughed. "We can't have that now can we? We're supposed to match."

"Bah." Her eyes took him in, and her expression satisfied him deeply.

"Not too plain?"

She shook her head and gave him a more measured once over. "The lack of baubles is made up for in clean lines. Very smart." A finger traced his collar, where silk embroidery caught softly in the light.

"Not the phrasing I hoped for. Terrible actually."

"I'm afraid my flattery game won't be on point tonight."

"Fair enough." He returned the measured assessment and revelled in the blush it instilled in her. "Even though I prefer you in a skirt, the dress is certainly dignified." The dress fell in long, fluid folds, gathered at the high waist by the broad sash. Embroidery around her collarbone glimmered like jewellery, highlighting the loveliness of her neckline. He took her hand, kissed the top of it, and lilted, "My love, let's go be the talk of the town." Drawing a delighted laugh from her.

--- --- ---

The dome of the Oasis Theatre peaked over the dividing wall as their group continued through the gate. This was the first time Nyx had visited Calimshan and she expected it was much the same for everyone else. Trade and movement had always been tightly controlled, only allowing native Calimshanite residents to come and go freely.

They were being herded by the flow of people to the Oasis, all clothed in neutral earthen tones. Were they not moving, they would blend into the surrounding warehouses and workshops clad in a sandy texture. These were shuttered and unlit, their stacked shapes blocking out the imposing wall that enclosed the settlement. Light poured from a small thoroughfare, a tall tower to its right capped with a pointed dome - its ruddy tiles one of the few dashes of colour to be found. Once through, a dazzling display of light drew Nyx's attention to the left, and the Oasis dominated the view.

It was illuminated from above and below by strategically placed lanterns, their light directed onto specific points of the building using lamp hoods and reflectors. Geometric shadows seemed to dance across its ribbed dome, racing each other inside diamond alcoves cut into its sandstone walls that draped from curving spines over three sweeping entrances shaped into slanting arches. Its true splendour could only be appreciated up close; fine masonry had carved delicate arabesque motifs into each of the alcoves; allowing the shadows to dance in the flickering lantern light.

Wyll remarked as the stream of people migrated to the doors, "The new owners have out done themselves."

Nyx struggled to imagine the presentation of the beautiful building in any other way. "How so? What did they do before?"

He chuckled while retrieving his invitation. The light caught the soft shimmer of the embroidery on the gold taupe cuffs of his loosely tailored coat. "The man was a right sleaze. Held performances of spectacle, not culture. The more daring and risque, the better. But after the last incident when a handful of Displacer beasts escaped into the audience, he was encouraged to resign by the locals and the Watch."

She made a noise of agreement. "I would also prefer not being mauled by some beastie mid-performance."

Someone behind Nyx spoke, "Saera, Saer." Handing her and Astarion a pamphlet detailing the performances for the evening. She turned it over for the description in common.

'Veil of Ereshka.' A girl who tricked a god finds herself trapped in the afterlife, and can only escape if another is willing to make a sacrifice in the name of love.

The sketch depicted a woman pleading with a man who stood in front of a shadowy figure, seemingly imploring it for her release. Beneath the sketch was a safety notice.

All performances are enacted by real people using traditional methods of shadow and blacklight theatre, including puppets crafted with love and brought to life by passionate individuals. Magic is used at a minimum to ensure the safety and comfort of our performers. No additional magic or magical beasts are present on stage.

Nyx nodded to herself; magic shows do have their merits, but true ingenuity and stagecraft come from having to make do without. She felt the world outside melt away when they were prompted for their invites one last time and proceeded into the theatre.

The movement of the crowd didn't stop, ushering them from the spacious foyer over ivory coloured floors into a wide corridor flanked by pillars covered in mosaic. Their chiselled tiles were arranged into abstract repeating stars and circular patterns of teal, ochre, powder blue, black and hints of wisteria. Similar patterns framed each doorway.

Nyx and several of the others caught their breath upon entering the main room. The floor seating was arranged like an amphitheatre, sloping all the way to the joint between the circular wall and the dome. The ceiling itself was carved, with colourful tile work mounted within. Its part-honeycomb, part-stalactite ornamentation cascaded from the central part of the dome, ending at the wall.

They made their way to their seats in the middle of the rows and settled themselves onto the plush floor pillows. Astarion helped himself to whatever alcoholic beverage was offered on a platter beside their seats, and Karlach eagerly eyed the sugar dusted sweets on display in a filigree embossed bowl. Nyx tried one of the squares too, after Karlach made a face of equal measure surprise and delight. It was firm on the outside, gooey on the inside, and had her convinced she was eating candied rose extract, given the scent. A theatre attendant passed by with more drinks and finger snacks. Nyx shared a knowing wink with the smiling attendant when Karlach took one of each offering to place in her already-empty candy bowl. Reclining into the plush cushions at the back of their terraced row, Nyx inhaled the scent of her spicy tea, indulged in floral candies and let the haunting music played by foreign instruments transport her elsewhere. A series of chimes rang across the din of the crowd, and a voice projected for people to take their seats.

---

The lights dimmed, and from the circular stage sunken into the bedrock a scurry of blue fluorescent feet was visible. Only the feet, the owner rendered invisible against the black background and not illuminated by the blacklight. Upon reaching the far side of the stage, they made a side-to-side motion as though looking around confused. They turned on their heels and, in a running leap, the owner was revealed with an unfurling motion.

Before them stood a tall, thin figure on even longer legs, with glowing joints outlining his shape. His face was one without any features, but six arms grasped six masks. With a flourish, he adorned a smiling one. It had minimal features: slits for eyes and a line for a smile that crept up too high past the cheekbones.

He surveyed the audience and said, "Ah, you've come. It took you a while to fall asleep, my friend."

New bobbing lights drifted onto the stage, jellyfish of different colours and shapes illuminated by flickering lights that raced across their bells and down their tentacles. They swirled around the masked narrator, and he stroked them lovingly. "I have another tale to spin."

The jellyfish complied and drifted upwards, sheets of fabric from their tops unravelled to the ground, and shadows materialised onto the sheet backdrop. It was a skyline similar to one that Calimshan would cast, and mist wafted from the stage into the audience, smelling of sea salt, exotic spices, and wood smoke. The sound of a bustling market accompanied the change in scenery where humanlike figures made their way on stage; pushing carts, hawking wares at each other, yet unaware of the narrator walking between them.

The noise of the crowd faded, and soft music rose in volume. The narrator, now with a pensive mask, watched along with the rest of the seated audience as a lone dancer took centre stage.

Dancing on a carpet between the market vendors, her motions were graceful and fluid. A shawl flowed in slow ripples behind her, emphasising her movements when she extended her arms and legs, then twirled, snatching them inwards. The narrator stood, and the dancer continued to dance around him, oblivious of his presence while he spoke. He said, "Ereshka's mother was always concerned for her daughter." Exchanging his mask for one of sadness.

The voice of the mother spoke, "My little dreamer, you cannot dance for a living. We all need to work to make ends meet."

Another voice replied, "But mother, I am the best dancer in this city. I can be famous and I'll make so much money, enough that I'll look after you one day too."

The narrator shook his head. "Dance she did, and it brought money. Never enough, even after joining a travelling band."

Other dancers poured from the doors at the back of the theatre, their shawls whipping as they leapt and tumbled their way to the stage. Finally joining Ereshka in a group dance of bellowing shawls and floating jellyfish to cheerful music.

Afterward, Ereshka was seated on the floor in a sparse communal room, the narrator observing just out of sight. The troupe of dancers was gathered inside, their giggling and excited discussion amplified.

One said, "It's our biggest show yet!"

Another placed a hand on her hip. "They say the owner is a rich merchant. A bachelor." Casting a glance at Ereshka. "Hmm, what do you think? Would Ereshka have her wish of fame fulfilled after being whisked up by him?" The group of gossiping men and women snickered among themselves.

Ereshka waved a hand in dissent. "I don't need a rich husband. Azaan and I will marry, and our names will be on everyone's lips."

"Says the street sashayer and the poor poet. A tragic love story if ever one was written."

The scene faded with Ereshka jumping up to point an indignant finger at their mocking silhouettes, declaring that she'll be the last one to laugh when they're still crawling from town-to-town living on scraps. The jellyfish ascended and the scene disappeared to black.

A long teal carpet rolled over the stage, unfurling tables and chairs on either side. Jellyfish floated from above, dropping guests into their seats, waiters moving between them, and a circular area was left untouched. Mist brought with it the smell of fine food and drink. At the head of the closest table sat a prominent figure with a dazzling cane - an enormous, glittering jewel mounted on top. The dashing merchant was entranced by the dancers as they flitted onto his stage. Everyone took special note when Ereshka entered.

The stage shifted again; guests and dancers faded into the background until only Ereshka, her shawl, and the enthralled merchant remained. The music dropped into a whimsical hum until her dance was concluded and she left the stage, but the merchant jumped from his chair to pursue her.

He found her on the balcony, attempted to court her while they twirled around one another to sweeter musical notes. Not easily dissuaded, he offered her several gifts and tokens, all of them promises of a comfortable life; one of luxury. She shook her head at each, until he draped himself defeated over the balustrade. The music reached a crescendo when Ereshka slipped something into his drink.

They returned to the party where Ereshka and her fellow dancers performed a last show. The merchant made a point of greeting Ereshka after the guests had faded away. He implored one last time, then swooned and Ereshka helped him to one of the abandoned tables. The once sweet melodic notes became agitated. After slumping into the chair, Ereshka relieved him of his jewelled cane and slunk into the darkness. The scene was carried off by the floating jellyfish and returned to the familiar marketplace.

Ereshka performed for her regular audience. From the shadows, the merchant crept into view, keeping watch behind a stall. With her day's work completed, she passed the stall, and he snatched her by the arm, dragging her into an alleyway. An argument ensued, a dance mirroring the night prior: the music boisterous, their own movements animated; his accusatory, hers dismissive. The music slowed and so did their motions as the narrator stepped on stage. The severe scowl on his mask reached down to its jaw.

He paced around the couple, their argument frozen in time; shouting, flailing arms. "The little dreamer thought she could steal her way to the life she wanted. However, neither did she realise who she stole from nor what it was that she took."

Beams of light shot over the stage; the arguing couple surged back in full vivid colour, movement and emotion. The merchant reached his limit, and mist bubbled up from his feet, the silhouette inside morphing into a tlincallis - both fascinating and terrifying; the torso of a man fused with the body of a scorpion. It reared on six legs, towering over her, and she fell backward, pleading for her life. The tlincallis' stinger lashed out at a jellyfish above. Violent shaking overcame the puppet, and its sheet shimmered into a portal set inside the alleyway wall. Ereshka was seized by the arms and unceremoniously dragged through by the tlincallis.

The two performers blinked out of view, reappearing on the other side of the stage. The stage itself started to rotate and rose into the air. The tlincallis dragged her up the unfolding stairs; she resisted as much as she could. The stage stopped, and a pit dropped straight down the middle of it. The cross-section of the pit was visible; shadows and creatures darted within. Ereshka struggled vigorously against the tlincallis, but to no avail. He heaved once and flung her into the pit, a scream ripping from her throat while she plummeted in. The theatre audience gasped in unison; the stage went dark and silent.

The narrator's voice spoke, "Something disturbs your sleep. I will continue my tale once you return."

The theatre lights gradually brightened and a different person projected that the intermission had arrived.

---

Nyx and the others were gathered in the lobby around tables, refreshments in hand, discussing the show. A familiar voice greeted them, "It's thrilling to be one of the first to see their new production. I must say, they keep getting better."

They turned to find Dagna regarding them, a glass of wine held to her lips and mischief shining in her eyes.

Tav greeted and asked, "Do you come here often?"

"One of the privileges of being stationed in Whitkeep and I have an in with the locals too." She winked, seemed to remember something, and retrieved envelopes from her purse. Several eyebrows went to hairlines when she handed one each to Nyx and Astarion. Both stared at the papers, and Dagna's face lit up with a genuine smile. "They are from the families you helped today. And from the Brass Scale Consortium, I'm to give my official thanks to you too."

Nyx gaped and fretted at the corners of her envelope. "We didn't do it for money."

Astarion scoffed softly next to her, and she wanted to step on his toes.

Dagna smiled again, gesturing to the envelope around her glass. "That is not compensation, it's thanks."

Nyx took a steeling breath and peaked into the envelope. There were several letters inside. She pressed her lips together and said, "I'll read them later. Thank you."

"But don't think I've forgotten about the rest of you." Dagna grinned and handed a slip of paper to Tav. "Stored in a safe location for retrieval later." Tav scanned the slip, nodded and stowed it. Dagna took a sip of her drink and said, "Oh and there is someone I'd like you to meet." She turned and called behind her, "Mohan, you can stop lurking."

A gnome appeared between the moving crowd and ambled his way over replying, "That is what you hired me for." She spared him a smirk, and he introduced himself with a curt bow, "Mohan, trader and consultant of sorts."

"'Of Sorts' - may we ask what 'sorts'?" Wyll gave him a pointed look.

"Oh many things, including your 'gifts for later'." Unconcerned, he helped himself to the unclaimed snacks on their table.

Tav stuck out her hand. "Good to know we're not the only ones unappeased by the Council of Four's replacement."

He shook her hand, made a face and sneered, "Bad for business. Especially these toy soldiers of his. Imagine wagging your big metal willies up and down the thoroughfares and calling yourself 'Archduke'. Pathetic." A smug smile spread across his face at garnering snickers and coughing laughs from them.

After a large crowd passed, Tav directed to Mohan, "More Watchers in the Lower City?"

"Yeh, overrun like rats. I'm sure the Gondians are lining their pockets as we speak, laughing their way to the counting house while the rest of us are getting squeezed out of our knickers by his new regulations and taxes."

Dagna snorted. "You're not the one paying those."

"It still means my profits go down when no one has spare money for the - elusive items I have to offer."

The series of chimes rang out overhead, and the announcer called people back to their seats.

Dagna stepped away and greeted over her shoulder, "I'd like to see you again before you set out tomorrow. Come to my office. Enjoy the rest of the show."

Tav and Gale broke off from the group, a hint of mischief in their expressions. Tav said to the rest, "You go ahead, we'll be there in a moment."

---

All of them were seated by the time the announcer made the last call and the theatre lights dimmed. The multi-armed narrator welcomed his audience back, his uncanny smile in place. The colourful jellyfish helpers joined him on stage.

A single light shone from above onto the unmoving form of Ereshka. She sat up and beckoned with outstretched hands toward the pit opening above. No one answered except for the shadows that flitted past the light, casting strange shadows over her. Melancholy music played while the scent of moss and musty air filled the theatre. She stood shivering and attempted to take a step outside the encircling light, but things with glowing eyes grasped at her - the music screeching at the near misses. She scrambled back into the light's protection. More eyes of different shapes and colours surrounded her one-by-one, collectively watching for another misstep. Instead of walking, she began to dance in place, and the surrounding light grew, but only up to a point. Tentatively, she stepped forward, and the light moved with her.

The backdrop gave the illusion that she was her twirling down the tunnel; shadows and creatures darted after but could not reach her. Eventually, a lone jellyfish appeared from ahead, unaccompanied. She stopped, and it circled her, cautiously she reached out to the jellyfish and stroked it. Squirming with delight, it joined her in her dance. Moving forward, more jellyfish joined. The dark crags were gradually replaced with glowing crystals and reflective lights. The solo concluded when Ereshka reached a door made of a mirror, and a face appeared within.

It said onto her, "You have stolen the jewel of dreams and are trapped within the dream realm until its return." She fell onto her knees, pleading with the entity. Unaffected, it said, "You may not leave."

The music became slow and sombre as Ereshka retreated from the door, and the jellyfish escorted her elsewhere. Lights faded when she stepped through a new passage, and she disappeared. The backdrop shifted back to the market.

A young man in dishevelled clothing was darting between the vendors and their stalls, imploring them, his hands held together in desperation. They shook their heads, and he jogged to the next, who pointed at the alleyway in which Ereshka and the rich merchant had last been seen. Azaan dashed down the street to find nothing. Frantically, he searched the walls. Touching a specific spot made something light up under his hand, and in his pocket. He withdrew the cane's jewel from his pocket and held it to the wall; the portal appeared. Bracing himself, he stepped through.

The theatre stage split into two; the portion at the rear rose into their air and the other stayed level with the ground, respectively. They showed Azaan and Ereshka making their separate journeys. They danced a duet, but were separated by the trickery of the dream realm. A mirror would show the reflection of one, only for it to disappear. They would race after the person-shaped shadow of their lover only for it to lure them farther into the darkness where nightmares would snatch at them, tearing pieces of their clothing during their escape. Their movement became lethargic, and the music strained for notes. Eventually, the pair collapsed from exhaustion, unknowingly close to one another, merely separated by a sliver of illusion. Azaan saw Ereshka and crawled to her. They reached for one another. Their fingers were about to touch when shadows leapt onto the stage and raced towards them. Two tlincalli yanked them apart and carried them away.

One tlincallis skittered past Nyx's row. Its legs passing in a wave of clattering motion. Ereshka slung over the creature's shoulder, called for Azaan with an outstretched hand, but the tlincallis disappeared from sight. The soft glow of the jellyfish was all that remained in the middle of the theatre.

The narrator's two feet strolled onto the stage, the rest of him hidden in shadow once more, and the tlincalli returned through different doors, dumping the lovers at his feet. Azaan woke and shook Ereshka awake to embrace her. Both noticed the disembodied feet and attempted to flee, but the tlincalli blocked their way out and any attempt at escaping.

Light travelled up the narrator's legs and revealed the rich merchant. Some members of the audience mumbled. Both Azaan and Ereshka jumped to their feet. Azaan removed the dream jewel from his pocket and threw it at the merchant, who caught it with a third disembodied hand. Their gaping turned into cowering as the merchant grew in size and the narrator revealed himself fully. Segment-by-glowing-segment until a tlincalli three times the size of the other two stood in front of them, nearly scraping the ceiling stalactites. Nyx gasped along with the rest of the audience. His six legs supported an impossibly elongated torso with six arms carrying masks. It adorned the scowling one and leaned forward while the two thieves sank to the ground in fear.

The dream ruler pointed a long, spindly finger at each of them and said, "You may have returned what you've stolen, but you cannot leave without due payment."

He straightened to put on a mask of sadness. "If both of you return to the waking world, you will not remember each other."

Ereshka's hands went to the side of her face, and Azaan locked her in an embrace.

"Unless, one of you stays. Then the other will remember you, but only in their dreams. It is for you to choose which path to take." The dream ruler faded slowly, segment-by-segment, including his tlincalli bodyguards.

Azaan and Ereshka were alone in the middle of the stage, jellyfish wafting by to music of longing. The couple danced their first and last proper duet together, one of grace and gentle caresses. It carried them back through the caverns of crystal and mirrors, passing the crags of shadow until they reached the pit. A staircase of smoke appeared, spiralling up to the light above. They clutched each other. Ereshka embraced Azaan and gestured for him to go. He shook his head vigorously, but she insisted and walked him to the stairs. "I'm the one who went through with this, you should live your life and follow your dreams. For the both of us."

Nyx heard Karlach sniff beside her and spared her a quick, knowing glance. Karlach said in a whisper after being caught, "I've got spicy smoke in my eyes."

The lovers embraced one last time, and Azaan ascended the stairs. The scene transitioned solemnly to the marketplace.

Azaan stood on a podium; many people gathered around. He was no longer dressed in rags, but sported clothing to rival the rich merchants surrounding him. With a piece of parchment in hand, he cleared his throat, and the crowd settled. "A poem for the stranger I only see in my dreams. 'The Veil of Ereshka'." The scene faded, the theatre lights slowly brightened and the stage was empty. A roar of applause rose from the audience.

--- --- ---

After the final bows from the performers, Astarion stood, offering a hand to Nyx. She rewarded him with a heartwarming smile and moved ahead of him with more ease than before. They filed out with the crowd, meeting up with the rest of Tav's companions in the lobby for the farewell refreshments. It was strange seeing them all so jovial.

He could get used to this - could even dare to imagine a life filled with the comfort on display and the opportunity to idle away his time on fine entertainment, finer wine and the finest company. His gaze settled on Nyx, tracing the curvature of the neckline, and he wondered how much of a domestic life he was willing to envision for himself. It's not like circumstances ever allowed him to linger on such. As if the damnable gods overheard his thoughts, a shrilling scream pierced the air - not one of performance, but one of pure terror.

The crowd parted, gasps and screams revealing Dagna, who was paler than her dress. A bloodstain spread over her abdomen; her eyes glazed over, and she crumpled to the floor. Shadowheart, Tav, and Gale were rushing to her aid, with Halsin and Karlach moving to protect them.

Wyll cried, "I see him!", tearing off in pursuit of the assailant with Nyx and Lae'zel hot on his heels.

Astarion swore under his breath and sprinted after, dodging people and tables. Lae'zel crashed into one of the attendants, sending food raining down on the surrounding bewildered guests. He didn't stop, lest he lose sight of Nyx and Wyll. They darted into a less packed corridor then spilled out of the exit's archway onto a street behind the theatre.

Astarion caught its scent before setting eyes on it. He yelled at the other two, "Ghouls, look out!"

Wyll was blindsided by a swinging blow, sending him crashing into the crates. It lunged at him. A searing blast of Eldrich magic answered, and the ghoul flailed backwards, clutching his burning face. Daggers hidden in Astarion's boots flashed in the sparse starlight, and the ghoul sank to the ground. Astarion glimpsed Nyx still in pursuit, ducking around a corner at the far end of the street.

Rounding the corner, he sensed Nyx's magic surge and found her running along the narrow passageway wall. Her feet barely touched the ground when she swerved around, her knives whipped through the air, impaling something mid-air. A man cried out, and blossoms of blood dripped from suspended wounds before the invisibility spell broke. A dwarf clad in red stood between them. Wyll had caught up by that time, and together, the three of them stalked their prey.

Wyll demanded, "Who are you? Why target a merchant?"

The dwarf looked between them, licking his lips, and a deranged grin split his face. "A shame I couldn't make a better offering of her death."

Gathering magic in the palm of his hands, Wyll sneered, "Bhaalist, you will pay for each life you've taken."

The assassin twirled his blades and threw back his head in laughter. "You will be the ones to pay tribute to our Lord with your bloodied corpses." He summoned his own magic and disappeared from view.

--- --- ---

That won't work this time, asshole.

With her cone of whiskers primed, Nyx detected him instantly; the assassin's daggers were poised to strike Wyll from behind. She threw her magic against his blades, delaying and exposing him. Astarion made good on the opening, but the dwarf dodged in the nick of time, slashing his blade across Astarion's chest and digging another into Wyll's side.

Wyll cried out, letting off a stray ray of fire, scorching an arch over the back wall. Astarion ducked and sidestepped the assassins' assaults; the colliding ring of their blades echoed through the corridor. Nyx had to close the distance; she couldn't get a clear opening between the blur of motion. She timed her strikes carefully; Astarion kept the dwarf occupied with parrying and returning counter-strikes. Nyx carved pieces into the assassin’s tunic and flesh once Astarion provided the opportunity.

The assassin attempted to escape on several occasions, but Wyll headed him off with a streaking ray of fire or Eldrich blast. Nyx would intercept the fleeing silhouette and drive him back to Astarion's daggers. Bleeding and gasping, the assassin was caught between Nyx at his back, Wyll and Astarion to his front. Another deprived smile slit the dwarf's lips, and he feigned a lunge at Astarion only to pivot at the last moment. He drove his blade into Wyll's side again, grabbed Wyll by the belt and swerved him into Astarion. They went down together in a bundle of curses. Nyx darted forward; three of her knives parried one of the Bhaalist’s. It was a bloody knife fight. Her free knives lined up to target his face and neck while his cut into her bare arms and shoulders.  

A strange series of noises flooded the street, and the assassin grinned. "Sounds like my reinforcements have arrived."

More cries and shouts came from afar, followed by booms of magic. Nyx returned a grin and said to the assassin's surprised expression. "So have ours."  

Astarion recovered and helped Nyx keep the dwarf pinned down until the rest of their own companions could assist. They certainly did with borrowed weapons, yet their fury and magic were all their own. The dwarf finally perished in a hail of ice.

Shadowheart stepped through the pools of water and took over from Nyx, who was tending Wyll's injuries while he was slumped over a crate. Tav was shaking; her face pinched into an unforgiving scowl. Deep shadows were cast onto Tav's features by the flames lapping over Karlach's skin. Both their eyes flashed with contempt, glaring at the assassin's corpse.

With her stomach in a knot, Nyx steeled herself, almost too afraid to ask. "What of Dagna?"

Phew! This chapter was sooooooo much work! I think this chapter has been the one with the most amount of research and preparation that I've written thus far.

I've been wanting to write a more culturally aligned piece for quite some time now, and The Oasis was a great opportunity to stretch my writerly skills. I also learned a lot about the architecture, culture and designs of the communities from the Middle East and North Africa. I also got to break into my humble little physical reference library - Designa by Wooden Books was a fantastic resource for the motifs and how to describe them - and helped me point my research in the right direction. I also put together a few conceptual graphics of what I had envisioned for The Oasis.

The Oasis' dome shape was inspired by Linxia Grand Theatre in China and the interior is inspired by the Saint Samaan church in Cairo. The interior has various patterns and colour palettes inspired by the Middle East and North Africa. I hand-traced the Linxia theatre and made a diagram to indicate how the mashup would come together, as well as a mood board for the motifs and colours.

The show itself was inspired by black light puppet theatre. Specifically the puppets and ghost stories of Mr Barnaby Dixon - you can check out his wonderful creations, ballads and stories on his YouTube channel: 
- How This Guy Makes Hand Puppets That Move Like Real Creatures | WIRED
- SONG OF THE SIREN by Barnaby Dixon

The narrator inspiration by Ulysses?

Tlincallis Forgotten Realms Wiki

I also found this Calimshan Adventurer's Guide with some more pictures and information about Calimshan for your perusal.