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26th of Sun's Height, 2AM
While many would have been irritated at the early morning wake-up courtesy of Dough-Boy, Rhasha'Dar was simply thankful for the distraction. Ever since his arrival back in Dawnstar he had been quiet and out of everyone's way, simply wanting to recuperate and dwell on his thoughts in peace. His only breaks from the Windpeak Inn's darkest corner table were to nearly empty the local alchemy store of it's potions supply, and to share a few words of farewell with Daelin when the Bosmer had left. Night hadn't brought him any sleep, not while he was in such a contemplative mood. As the Khajiit brewed potion after potion, he had pondered on what he had to do. There were two clear choices laid out before him; Go home, or remain with the group. The option to reunite with the twins and his old caravan was a tempting one, but he knew that would only make things harder; leaving the mercenaries in Dawnstar would leave him with the only desire of going to Riverhold. The twins would likely want to remain travelling, but he couldn't bear to leave without them. Rhasha's other two options weren't giving him any clear answers either. Stay and help his friends, but worry for his family - or leave the group behind, and make the treacherous journey back to Elsweyr alone, feeling guilty about his departure.
After going over these options for hours, brewing potions in a numb, automatic sort of fashion, the breathless orders from Dough-Boy were a welcome distraction from this alchemical reverie. He didn't get much out before rushing onto the next person to tell, but Rhasha could clearly see that whatever it was, it was an emergency.
Upon arriving and listening to Ashav with the others, Rhasha could understand the urgency. While he was unfamiliar with the list of victims, the apprehension of their Argonian friends was quite disturbing. Although obvious that this was just racial discrimination courtesy of the Jarl in the town (Rhasha wondered what the stance of Khajiits like himself would be, now that such obvious racism was abound), such actions were just going to make things more tense between the non-humans and the Nords of Dawnstar. Not that the Jarl was bothered about tension in his nice, safe hall. Swiftly passing the fake tail along (He could tell that while treated like any piece of leather would be, it had come from an actual Argonian originally - plenty of gruesome thoughts about how that could happen ensured that he didn't want to be holding onto it for very long.), he finally realised the other Khajiit in the room. A new member to their group, it would seem. After all the stories that circulated about their mercenary group, Rhasha'Dar considered it brave for anyone new wanting to join.
As the group disbanded, Rhasha made his way back to the quiet spot in the inn, the potion he had left still bubbling away in it's calcinator. The victims chosen were very... odd. From what he knew, they had nothing in common. An Argonian leader, a stuck-up Altmer and her less-than-intelligent goon, a Captain who doubled as Thane, and a male prostitute? Victims of opportunity? From what he could recall, there weren't any mentions of the victims being robbed. If that were the case, it could be that the murderer was simply targeting people who looked like they might have money. A Paxseech was highly regarded amongst Argonians, and so might carry riches; Vurwe acted like she was rich even if she hadn't necessarily looked her best around the time of her death; Gordo worked for her, so would be paid; a Thane would likely have money; as would Almad, if the size of the line outside his tent was anything to go by.
"Hmm. Pointless to consider this - these weren't robberies." Rhasha pondered silently to himself, clawed fingers gently tapping the wooden table top in contemplation. "So what is the link? What makes them such good victims?" If there was a serial killer about, they clearly had no qualms about who they picked. So far Nords, an Altmer, a Redguard and an Argonian were gone. Wracking his brains, Rhasha tried to think of past events similar to these. "There was Windhelm... a few tragic murders. But they had links, they were all young girls..." Now, Rhasha seemed to return to his contemplative state, although this line of thought was certainly less about him. He couldn't understand why someone would feel the need to kill so randomly or mercilessly, but then, he didn't have to understand. Just try and stop it happening again. As the Khajiit sat back and lit his pipe, he thought that his delay in deciding on going home or not was worth it around this particular topic. Although procrastination, he didn't feel quite as guilty while playing detective.
26th of Sun's Height, Midday
Rhasha'Dar had spent the remainder of the early morning hours dozing fitfully, still sat in the dark corner with his pipe dangling from his mouth. His tobacco had run out around the time the sun came up, but he continued to chew on the bit, finding it somewhat comforting. The morning light brought with it the returning hustle and bustle of the inn, and after a few hours to sort through his thoughts, Rhasha finally remembered something that could be worth looking up. And the best place to go to ask questions? One's local Inn, of course.
"If you're finally wanting a room from us, then you're out of luck. We're full." Were Thoring's first words to Rhasha'Dar as he approached the counter, sounding unusually gruff. Likely because the Khajiit had spent the last 24 hours in his Inn, buying nothing but minimal food and drink. Splashing out on alchemical ingredients and some miscellaneous first-aid equipment had left Rhasha without much more to spend on himself. He was thankful that the Inn was allowing him to brew the potions without paying for a room, but the welcome wouldn't be permanent. Unless Thoring had an ailment that needed curing, though he certainly hadn't let that on to anyone, let alone Rhasha.
"Ah. No - while this one has appreciated your hospitality so far, Rhasha would just like to ask some questions." He replied as politely as possible, hoping not to get on the bad side of the Nord. While Thoring seemed more accepting of other races than some of the other townspeople, emotions were still running high thanks to the refugee camp and murders. Thoring grunted as he began wiping a glass clean, and Rhasha took this as permission to continue. "Rhasha'Dar was wondering if you recalled anything about... strange happenings in your town a few years ago. Something to do with a plague of nightmares?" Recognition dawned on Thoring's face, and he nodded stiffly, a shiver visibly running through his body.
"Aye... I remember that. I don't know what sort of terrible magic was involved during those dark months, but I was just happy to find out they stopped." Thoring paused as his daughter Karita approached the bar, only continuing once she was out of earshot. "Why are you asking about that? There weren't any murders during that time."
Rhasha felt slightly crestfallen at that statement, as it had been his next question. "Do you know how it stopped?" He asked instead, hoping to find some sort of connection to report back to the others.
"No idea. Some Priest of Mara was in here... Dunmer chap, Eran- something. Erandil? Nah, that's not it." After attempting to recall the Dunmer Priest's name a few more times, Thoring shrugged and continued. "Anyway, he was here asking questions about the nightmares, when this treasure hunter came in and offered him some help. They go off, disappear for a few days, and the treasure hunter pops back in for a drink, alone. Looked quite pleased with herself. The nightmares had stopped, and she'd left town before anyone could get an answer out of her. Never did see that Dunmer fellow again though..." While certainly making for an interesting tale of mystery, it gave the Khajiit nothing. There weren't any clear connections between the two events, and while still good that nobody had been murdered during this bout of nightmares, it blew his theory of a returning serial killer out of the water. Thanking Thoring for his time with a dejected sigh, Rhasha made to go back to dark corner before pausing, turning back to look at the barkeep.
"When you say they "go off"... where exactly did they go?"
"Tower of the Dawn, I think." The quizzical look given by Rhasha indicated to Thoring that he hadn't even heard of the place. "The ruined tower, just on top of the hill above Dawnstar? You must have seen it coming in." His tone was that of a patronising obviousness, but Rhasha didn't particularly care at the moment. "It was abandoned for a good long while before this Priest showed up. Don't know what he was planning on doing with the place, but it's still abandoned now."
"So - if someone were to need a hiding place, it would make for a good one?" Thoring answered with another dismissive shrug, but some cheer had returned to Rhasha'Dar. Collecting his weapons and newly brewed potions, the Khajiit made his way outside, walking to the edge of the town border to get a better look at this tower. There it sat atop a snowy mountain, partially obscured by low-hanging clouds. It looked like an abandoned fort more than anything, and that meant it would be large. Large enough for a murderer to hide in and pick his victims from afar. With one hand clasped around his spear, his other hovered over his chest, where his newly healed injuries lay. Potions, healing and time had done wonders for them, but he was still weak. Rhasha would be unable to make the journey up the mountain alone, let alone search through the entire fort. He could only hope his fellows could offer their aid.