When Worlds Collide (IC)

[Zaydos]

Your head is pounding, like from a horrible hangover. Around you is a city, the scent of the sea reaching your nose. As you stand there memories begin to flood back into your head, the pain fading. You are Moresby Gloke, warlock... but other memories are mixed within, memories of someone to whom this city is almost familiar, another Moresby Gloke, one who had succumbed to the curse of his blood. You can see several others who seem to be a similar fugue, whose sense seem to be coming back to them. Some of them seem familiar to you, seem to be shying away from you, looks of fear on their faces. As you take in your surroundings you can see a few other things of note. The first is that the architecture of the city changes halfway down the block and scenes familiar to you give way to buildings that should not be there. The second is a woman who you think you recognize, who you feel is a companion you had known in your quest to break your curse, Ciara, but she looks different, more perfect, silver hair, and wings, yet you still feel that you recognize her, that she is the same person. The third is the sun which hangs heavy in the sky, a churning mixture of blue and red intertwined, and burning bright, surrounded by a corona of green, a sun unlike any you remember from either fragmented life. The fourth is that there is a sheet of papyrus clasped in your hand.

Your head is pounding, like from a horrible hangover. Around you is a city, old pagodas rising from moss-covered stone, hydrangea flowers growing along the paths of stone. Your memories begin flooding back to you, memories of Amestris, of the Armstrong family, and also vague echoes of another life, another Armstrong line. You are on the second floor of a five story pagoda, a place you recognize from this second life if only vaguely. You were a priest here, following the arts of magic passed down in your family line for generations. You can see someone who you recognize as a servant at the temple, a man who seems to be in the same reeling state as you. Odder still is the landscape ahead of you. While close by are those strangely familiar streets, beyond them is what seems a wholly separate city, the hydrangea giving way to dust covered streets that seem more in keeping with a desert, a ziggurat dominating the skyline ahead. That is not the only oddity you can see, for above the ziggurat rests a sun unlike any you have ever seen before, a churning mixture of blue and red intertwined, and burning bright, surrounded by a corona of green, a sun unlike any you remember from either fragmented life. That is not all for, even as the servant looks at you with confusion speaking your name as if in question, there is also a sheet of papyrus clasped tightly in your hand.

Your head is pounding, like from a horrible hangover. Around you is a bustling city, the people worn and haggard even as they look to be in the same state of fugue as you are. As you stand there memories begin to flood back into your head, the pain fading. You are Sybil, changeling, practitioner of binding, and this... this city looks to be Metrol, capital of Cyre. But you are also another Sybil, another changeling of another world, who found an art to make their soul as malleable as their form, to change their very being. And while the city seems to be Metrol, that is merely in one direction, in the other is a city which looks starkly primitive in comparison, buildings of sun hardened clay, and stone, with a great ziggurat dominating the skyline and streets covered in desert dust and sand. The people of that city are odd as well, asymmetry is common in the people you see, and one stands at least 8' tall. That is not the only oddity you can see. The other is the sun, which is a churning mixture of blue and red intertwined, and burning bright, surrounded by a corona of green, a sun unlike any you remember from either fragmented life. Grasped tight in your hand is a sheet of papyrus.

Your head is pounding, like from a horrible hangover. Around you is a city, the scent of the sea reaching your nose. As you stand there memories begin to flood back into your head, the pain fading. You are Ciara, goddess ascended by touching the Starstone, but memories of another Ciara are there as well, harder to reach like faded echoes howling beneath the surface. As you look about the unfamiliar city you can see others in a similar fugue, one who you recognize as the azurin Moresby who strives to fight the curse in his blood and who you have fought beside in that echoed life. Even as you see them three things strike you. One that the city is not merely unfamiliar, it is strange as well the architecture and design of the city shifting in the middle of the street like two cities bolted haphazardly together. Second is that people seem strangely on edge as they glance at the azurin warlock. The third is the sun which hangs heavy in the sky, a roiling mixture of blue and red intertwined, and burning bright, surrounded by a corona of green, a sun unlike any you remember from either fragmented life. The fourth is that there is a sheet of papyrus clasped in your hand.

On the sheet is a crudely drawn map showing your current location and a path to a place labeled 'Lonely Ghost Inn', beneath the map is written in an elegant, flowing hand "Come to meet at the Lonely Ghost Inn at nightfall, your life may hinge on it."

[Anachronity]

Where in the Nine Hells?...

Moresby looks at the others around him, his vision impaired by some sort of long, furry snout. His hands go reflexively to his face, and he realizes to his confusion that he is wearing some sort of wolf pelt, looking much like a deranged forest shaman. His begauntleted hands pull clumsily at the head of the Worg pelt covering his own human face. Though the head pulls back, something about it just doesn't... feel right.

His eyes glow softly with a fiery orange tinge; a new aesthetic that he is blissfully unaware of. Aside from that and his strange lupine shaman's fetish, this middle-aged man would not look out-of-place among a city guard. The glint of light chain armor and spiked gauntlets is visible beneath the pelt, and the lack of visible weapons leads one to assume he is either a spellcaster or a warrior separated from his weapons.

He looks to the winged woman who seems somehow so familiar. At a loss for anything to say, he tries to make light of it all...

"I guess it was a hell of a costume party."

[Powgow]

She might still be in Cyre. At least, it looks like she might still be in Cyre.

Sybil tries to concentrate on her surroundings despite her strange, aching headache. The city seems strangely familiar, and yet unfamiliar at the same time. It's almost someone just conjured another part of a foreign, unknown city on top of Metrol, capital of Cyre with a strange-looking sun on top of it...which of course seems like a cue for the populace to panic over some sort of mad plan from some mad Archmage. Yet, from what can be seen of the sample of the populace available right around her, they have been stunned by the same sort of hangover as hers.

Which is, of course, a bit weird, but she has her own problems to worry about. One of which is her own bloody memory.

Sure, she's Sybil, first and foremost advocate of using binding practices to search for your own enlightenment...or she's Sybil, a contemplative of the walker of many paths and malleable soul. Both seems plausible and yet equally foreign to her. For the benefit of Changelings everywhere, it feels like adopting a new form that you feel you have dedicated a significant portion of your life mastering it. If that sounds confusing then congratulations, you now feel the same way as her.

She then tries to work off her limbs to make sure it's not some kind of weird possession effect. They work perfectly normal. Next, she tries to do a quick change of skin pigment to make sure that her innate gift is still there. It also works perfectly fine. The sheet of papyrus in her right hand commands her attention next, but she feels that she have to do something else first to reassure her that she's still 'in control'...

As she takes a deep breath next, her form changes immediately into the form of a female human. Modest-looking with brown hair, rather plain for a human...which ironically might make her stand out in the middle of this quirky place. She proceeds to brandish the papyrus sheet on hand to read it. It's a good thing that the sheet's texts are written in Common instead of some obscure, alien language given the way things have been going around her, though the content of the message is anything but reassuring...

Well, when in doubt, it's better to ask someone else than be lost, and she has a lot of candidates already...

"Excuse me, sir..." Human!Sybil now approaches the nearest person recovering from their rather nasty fugue, and one which can charitably identifiable as a 'sir', "I seem to be quite lost. Do you know the direction to the Lonely Ghost Inn?"

[Zaydos]

Sybil

The man looks at you still with confusion written plainly across his face. "Lonely Ghost Inn?" He said, "Never heard of it, I... I what happened? What is that place?" He points at the ziggurat as he speaks, his eyes going to new city. He definitely seems scared. You think, however, that while the map is crude and unlabeled, that one particularly large structure on it may be the ziggurat, meaning you'd need to start by going in the opposite direction of the sun. The people in the streets are beginning to gather, eyes on the other city, fear and worry on their faces. They murmur questioning if this is some act of war, questioning which of the other nations could have done something so large, magic this powerful.


On the other street people seem to be gathering their wits, one person, a woman about 5' 6" with one eye lower than the other and brown hair, steps into Metrol glancing about. "The air, it's so wet," She says, a smile growing across her face. She carries a bandolier of daggers made not from steel but black obsidian. Behind her the people of her city are beginning to turn from shock to grins, and hungry looks.

[Anachronity]

"wet?" The air was certainly different. Its intensity burned his nose: a familiar smell of fear that should not have been familiar, the intense smell of fruits and baked goods that he somehow knew to be far off, the strong metallic tang of his own armor...

In any world Moresby is no stranger to conflict, however, and he mislikes the grins that these new people wear. He quickly casts about, checking for those who possess a means of defending themselves and those who may need defending. He then tries to subtly interpose himself between the latter and these newcomers.

Skill Checks (where needed)

[Metroid33]

Ciara picks up the piece of papyrus and quickly reads it. Folding it up and stuffing it in her belt Ciara quickly looks herself over to figure out what she has on her, finding all of her weapons, but not at the strength she remembered them being. Wait a moment, why do I have a physical form? She thought to herself, freaking out a little bit in her head. This is all wrong how have I been forced into a form, it's impossible, a god has power. When she hear's the woman speak Ciara looks over at her a stoic face upon her.

"I suggest you back away woman, do not meddle with a god and her friend." Friend, where did that come from she thought to herself, The man, that's it, Moresby, I know him.But how?

[Zaydos]

Moresby and Ciara

The confused man shied a bit away from Moresby even as he nodded. The ocean's roar could be heard mutely coming from a direction not quite opposite the strange new sun's. One of the men glared at Moresby, fear and hate mixing in his eyes. He stood, as if poised to act for a few moments, before raising a finger and pointing it squarely at the azurin's face. "Why are you here, wolf, didn't your kind do enough damage to this town?"

A woman, his wife perhaps, grabs his arm, and whispers to him, "Don't provoke it." She looks terrified as well, her eyes watching Moresby like you would a wild predator. "I doubt they could do this." Even as she talks a great bell can be heard ringing out across the streets, coming from a massive wind-mill to the... either south-west, or north-east depending upon whether the sun is setting or rising.

[Metroid33]

"This was no act caused by him." Ciara says to the man, "This was something that the gods would do. Do not blame a man just because you don't understand what is going on."

[Anachronity]

"A wolf"? Moresby had seen others fearful of his powers before, but he had never been mistaken for a wolf.

And yet some part of him seethes at the accusation, only because he is so much more than that.

... The pelt! "Oh, this isn't mine. I, uh, woke up with it." He reaches to pull the pelt off entirely, but it sticks to him as if by static cling and passes through his fingers in ways it should not.
Incarnum? Moresby looks again at his gauntlets, noting the way they seem to fuse with the too-lifelike arms of the pelt. For the first time he realizes he can feel the air against it. He can hear... something... whispering to him from inside it. Whatever sleep he and the others had woken from had been anything but restful, and he found himself quickly growing fatigued with sensory overload. He needed a nice soft patch of grass-bed to rest in and sort out his aching head.

*ahem* "well, it still isn't mine" he says, unconvincingly.

[Zaydos]

Moresby and Ciara

The man looks between you both. "We've seen you before, werewolf," He spits, looking out towards the massive windmill which rings out like a clock four more times before silencing. He glances at Ciara, "You on the other hand..."

He stops as the woman tugs on his arm, "The woman is right, this must be the work of the gods. Who else, what else could have wrought such a change upon the world?" She glances at the sky, turning away as she looks upon the brilliant red and blue sun. Even as she turns you can see something rising up from the horizon, a blindingly bright white sphere, brighter even than the sun which hangs in the sky.

Glancing about you can see an inn nearby, past where the street has changed, the sign proudly proclaiming itself the Dragon's Shadow in big, bright, gold letters.

[Anachronity]

In Moresby's past experience distraction and humor were the best deterrent to superstition.

"I wasn't a werewolf before! How do I know you aren't a werewolf? How do you know you aren't a werewolf?"

Making these accusations while wearing a wolf pelt felt absurd, but that was mostly the point.

"I'm getting sick of this, smell the note" spoke an irritable voice inside his head. Moresby responded out loud: "Smell the what?" only to have his arm shove the note in his face of its own volition.

I want to try tracking the note's owner by smell. Possible or no?

[Zaydos]

Moresby and Ciara

The man stares at Moresby like the azurin is crazy, before finally turning away. "It's not worth it dealing with a mad dog," He grumbles as he walks, "Got to see if the house is still there, if..." He stares down a street shaking a bit in fear and disbelief.

Sniffing for the note, Moresby cannot smell anything on it besides the scent of the sea air, and himself. In fact it is peculiarly scentless, lacking any scent that might have come from the manufacturing process, almost as if it were created whole clothe inside his hand.

[Anachronity]

mad dog? That bit him in a way that he couldn't quite explain, but was rapidly getting used to not quite being able to explain.

kill him-shred him-rip his throat out-feed his own intestines to him-tear his lineage out of this world

He had held back violent surges of warlock power before, but it was nothing like this. Thinking quickly, Moresby removes the pelt off of himself like he would with his gauntlets, an angry growl escaping him as he does so. The pelt and a large portion of that other Moresby's control vanished in a brief and underwhelming puff of smoke and blue fire, accompanied by a faint 'yelp'.

The world grew just a little less loud and obnoxious for Moresby, and his head even moreso. He stands still for a moment, briefly stunned .

[~Corvus~]

Jonathan looks around, holding his head in pain. After a little time, it passes but he has a distinct impression that something odd has happened. He looks down at his--they're robes? Right, I'm a priest here, he thinks, flexing his gauntleted hands. In one fist, he feels the parchment. Reading it, he gets a rush of energy. My life?! Serious business!

Ignoring the strange sun and its mixed celestial colors, he turns instead to the servant. Good brother, When is this time? I seem to have taken a rather nasty blow to my head! I am in need of some direction, as well.

The Lonely Ghost Inn?

He looks up at that last statement, more a question. Where can I find it?

[Metroid33]

Ciara looks the "wolf man" with confusion, How am I friends with such a man? She moves closer without even thinking about it, despite everything that she just thought. Instinctively she put a hand on his shoulder and said "Are you alright Moresby? Not gonna go killing anyone right?" Where did that come from. Why am I doing this? The goddess thought to herself.

[Powgow]

Sybil did a double-take when the man pointed out at the direction of the ziggurat. She stares at the monumental construction for a split-second before turning back to the papyrus parchment in her right hand. She's not 100% sure just yet, but the ziggurat seems to be similar and big enough to the landmark depicted in the crude map she possess. Of course, how said map could depict a landscape that might just be formed a couple of minutes ago is anyone's guess. She'd be willing to wager that whoever slipped her this crude note know a thing or two about the answer...

She turns back to the man beside her, now visibly losing his composure at the unfamiliar sight. Sybil then mouths off a soft "Thank you," before proceeding to withdraw herself from the busy street at large, darting off into one of the alleyways between buildings. Her direction's the opposite of the sun's. It doesn't get much more vague than that, but at least she now has a direction to follow, and this 'Lonely Ghost Inn' is as good of a name as anything.

She doesn't dare to look back towards the busy street, only listen. There was something...unsettling there, much more so than usual. Experience says she'd rather watch from a distance rather than smack dab in the middle of trouble, and she's usually right about these sort of things. Well, usually.

[Anachronity]

Jarred out of his stupor by his companion, Moresby offers a friendly smile.

"Ah, no, of course not. It's just that I don't, uh, 'feel like myself' today."

Moresby looks pointedly at the new pair of wings sprouting from Ciara's back. "Something tells me you're feeling the same." At this first opportunity to see her face up close, Moresby is unnerved by the utter lack of imperfections that were once there. It was not unlike speaking to a finely chiseled statue given life and made in the image of a close friend.

"It looks like one or more planes have merged here, somehow. I think one or more of our selves have merged as well."

Moresby pauses for a moment in thought.

"You're probably right about the gods, Ciara. This wouldn't be possible with mortal magic, unless it's all some sort of elaborate illusion. We should probably try to find this 'Lonely Ghost Inn'."

[Zaydos]

Jonathan

"I-I don't know sir, maybe it was to the south-east? I... but the city looks so different, and you look different as well, Mr. Armstrong. Taller, bigger, sir," The man said dazed and confused himself. "Is that what is on the parchment?"

The parchment shows the ziggurat at the top, the path starting straight away from the ziggurat and turning your back to the sun some time later; if the top is north, and you aren't holding the sans compass-rose map upside down, the inn should in fact be to the south-east.

Sybil

As you make your way from the meeting of two worlds you can hear cries of "Water, they have water!" And following soon after in another voice, "Plentiful water!" As the voices grow it almost sounds like you are fleeing a riot, moving quickly. The map leads you quickly out of Metrol and into a quaint, primitive looking city, the smell of their sanitary advancement or lack there of hitting your nose. Thankfully ere too long you are passed it and into what seems a piece of another city. Everywhere you go the people have the same scared, confused looks, and as the path turns to parallel to the ziggurat you can see a second sun rising over the distant ziggurat, shining bright and furiously white even if it is only a fraction of the size a sun should be. Refugees flee from the direction of the ziggurat, and you can hear them talking about a horde pouring forth, looting and celebrating something as simple as water. Even as they do a second group comes from the opposite direction, panic in their voices as they warn of men in the masks of eagles with spears that shoot flames.

[~Corvus~]

Jonathan nodd solemnly. Please gather my ofuda. I've had a powerful vision of warning from the Spirits, and my body bears the fruit of their touch.

Spirits send that I am not too late, he says as the man hurries to obey. Once the servant fetches his scrolls, Armstrong tells him, I have strange instructions upon a scroll I don't recognize to go to the Lonely Ghost Inn. I'll go investigate this alone; it could be a trap intended for someone else. If I don't come back or send word in two days, know that something went wrong.

Burn some incense for me, and prepare a few beds in case some people nearby are hurt in what could result in rioting. Care for the temple in the absence of our others. Thank you for your service.

With that he bows to the servant, gathers his scrolls in a neat accordion-pouch nearby, and sets off down the road. His pace is businesslike and quick, only occasionally checking the map if he feels he is lost.

[Zaydos]

Ciara and Moresby

If the second, smaller, brighter sun is rising in the East then, thankfully the map shows you heading west, and slightly north, towards what may be the sea.

Jonathan

The servant nods. "Yes sir," He says, the look on his face saying plainly that he's just glad to have a task to focus on in this weird event, and a hope that your note will lead to some revelation. He moves to quickly fetch your ofuda even as a second, smaller sun begins to rise from, generally the direction of the first sun. This smaller sun is brilliant and white, shining brightly enough that you find yourself with no great desire to glance in its direction.

If this second sunrise is 'east', then you find yourself heading 'north', and eventually turning west. Most of the buildings you see are reminiscent of neither Amestris or the other world where you were a priest, archaic by Amestris's standards and foreign by the other world's. Everywhere you go people seem bewildered and confused, the scent of the sea growing stronger as you move closer. As you walk the second sun passes overhead, moving quickly through the sky. You would judge yourself to have merely walked for an hour, and to be about half of the way to the inn, when this second smaller sun begins to sink below the 'western' horizon. During this time the other red and blue sun has moved a smidgen towards its own setting in what would be the 'east', almost as if the two suns rose from opposite directions.

Another hour sees you to a docks district, walking past an inn titled The Sea's Bounty to the small, twisting street upon which the Lonely Ghost resides. The paint has peeled from the walls, long since replaced with graffiti, its sign hanging loosely where the wind can send it rocking. The place looks to be a dive, but it's the site on the note.

[Anachronity]

Moresby decides it would be best to avoid asking directions from the suspicious folk from earlier. Plus, he feels strangely confident that he can find the way. He begins leaving and waits for Ciara to follow.

[Metroid33]

Ciara walks beside moresdy as they navigate the city. Winding this way and that in the patchwork neighborhood hoods to find this in.

[~Corvus~]

Instead of entering the Inn, Armstrong decides to walk around it. He begins a Prayer while taking out the relevant ofuda and concentrating.

Great protectors ward me from the Oni, and the influence of their taints and binds.

Protection Against Evil, targeting himself. Start the clock for 3 hours.

He then looks around, taking note of the happenings in the...(cities?) area around him, particularly wary of wayward monsters or incredibly beautiful maidens that approach him. Mostly, however, he is trying to gain a feel for the chaos around him.

[Powgow]

As more and more pieces of this patchwork city's revealed to Sybil, she begins to gradually compile the list of facts inside her head. The primitive-looking city that more closely resembles a Hill Giant settlement, the strange reverence for abundant source of water, and the fact that everywhere she goes the city people have the same confused look as the first people she met after this 'event'. All of those things and more make little sense for her at face value, even with the presence of this...second set of memories.

Then she heard the warning about dangerous people with flaming spears, and she starts contemplating her safety without one of her patrons to accompany her...

Looking back at the papyrus map in her hand, she tries to pinpoint the exact location of this Inn. It might not be located exactly in this neighborhood, but she's positive that she's a lot closer to it than, say, a couple of minutes ago. That, or she'd have to take more lessons in cartography...

[Zaydos]

Jonathan

The area immediately around the inn seems mostly to have been drawn from the docks of a single wealthy trade city. While there is some panic still lingering in the street, you can't help but notice people beginning to gather themselves, surreptitious figures slipping from the crowds towards alleys and shadows. As you wander you do see places where people have gathered looking at something that strikes them as odd, parts of other cities or villages replacing whatever should have been in the area before.

Ciara and Moresby

You reach what, from the look of things could only be a docks district, even as the setting of the second sun makes you avert your eyes from the horizon. Even so in this the final stretch you manage to take a wrong turn, only arriving at the inn after another hour of wandering. Finally you find the small, twisting street upon which The Lonely Ghost resides. The paint has peeled from the walls, long since replaced with graffiti, its sign hanging loosely where the wind can send it rocking. The place looks to be a dive, but it's the site on the note. Even as you wander up to the inn you can see someone coming in from the opposite side, a woman looking at a parchment held in hand.

Sybil

Hurrying through the strait formed from refuges you wander through town. A little more than an hour after the smaller second sun has, within the course of a single hour risen, blindingly to your right, passed over your head, and then sank to your left, you finally find the docks district. It is not much longer before you are making your way past an inn titled The Sea's Bounty to the small, twisting street upon which the Lonely Ghost resides. The paint has peeled from the walls, long since replaced with graffiti, its sign hanging loosely where the wind can send it rocking. The place looks to be a dive, but it's the site on the note. Even as you approach you can see a silver-haired woman with wings and beside her a man entering the same alley.

[Anachronity]

Moresby slows to a stop about ten feet away from the door, looking inquisitively at the new woman. He holds up the parchment so that its written side is visible, and raises an eyebrow.

[~Corvus~]

Something is up. Nowhere is there a place with several suns and patchwork streets as if...as if worlds have collided. With a jolt, he realizes this is what's happening.

He approaches the doorway of the Inn, stopping when he sees another person holding up parchment. A person who, simply enough, looks like a strange-eyed bestial man. And he's accompanied by a woman who looks perfect... Curse my luck, they must be On... he trails off as he looks at the parchment.

It couldn't be, he thinks. This must be a trick these Oni are playing on me.

He clears his throat. Your tricks will not work upon me, foul demons. What sort of mockery is this? Changing worlds together, then pretending to be clueless?

[Metroid33]

"Well I do know of these Oni you speak of, we are not them, I take it you just woke up witht that parchment in your hand same as us? Memories of a different life filling your head?" Ciara said to the quizzical man. "I mean you no harm we were told to come here, same as you I take it."

[~Corvus~]

Jonathan began to sweat. He hadn't prepared or memorized any spells to detect their presence or...

He checks the ofuda he has, and looks to see if the servant included any individual casting scrolls.

One can never be sure of the truth, especially in such strange times.

It seems as if he would say more but he clearly has his own suspicions. And who wouldn't, especially a relatively inexperienced priest with strange circumstances such as these, and vague memories of a far-off place with a military dictatorship? At least this is what he told himself as he searched for any sign of deception in his possible peers.

[Powgow]

Sybil stopped dead in her tracks once she notices what looks to be the same papyrus parchment she possess in the man's hand. She begins to momentarily consider the possibility that she's not alone in receiving this mysterious warning about danger, before she finally realizes that the man must have similar thoughts to her, and that he's looking for answer. Sure, the man seems a bit suspicious and strange...but literally every person she encounters after this whole mess look suspicious and strange to her, so the facts are not as big of a detriment as it should be.

"...I've had it in my possession ever since I woke up with a headache. I assume it's a map containing the direction to the Lonely Ghost Inn, yes?"

[Anachronity]

Moresby nods in response to the woman's question. "It seems our circumstances are the same then. I'm going to guess that you also have a 'new perspective' on the world, as it were?"

Moresby had known a good deal about the curse of Pollust prior, so it did not surprise him that his other self would be a werewolf of some kind. His own father had become possessed by a demon, after all, so it was clear that the curse manifests in many different ways. But what had these people's other selves been? Ciara was clearly part-celestial, at the very least.

A bone-chilling thought occured to Moresby: The planes of existence could be connected through my ancestor's blood; was that what has caused this? What could they expect to find inside this inn? Was it some sort of trap? Perhaps his time-frame for ending this curse was shorter than he had thought.

[~Corvus~]

y-- Jonathan is reluctant to say more, especially to this...almost feral-seeming m and shakes his head. He looks over to this final person, the singular woman holding a scroll. So she has one, too. Ruefully thinking both that he's been over-suspicious and that caution was still advisable, he pauses to cover his mouth in thought.A lack of sleep will make monsters of us all, he mutters into his hand.

He looks for a time at the brown-haired human's map, squinting at the details of the drawing, and looking at his own. He says instead Yes, it does. Well...my map also had instructions that made it seem pretty important for me to go here. Maybe I'll meet you all inside.

Without much more bluster, and partially aware that he may just seem the craziest of the bunch or perhaps the most sane to be so suspicious, he is glad to step into the Inn. The bald young man, despite his modest grey cotton robes, is over six feet tall and has shoulders nearly half as wide, and yet seems to be trying to conduct himself modestly.

[Zaydos]

Opening the door to the inn you can see an ill-lit room within. Flickering oil lamps light the room, and a motley crew meets your eyes. Only 6 people are within the common room. Two are human, and more than a little uncomfortable. One of the two humans is an overweight man, his hair thinned upon his head, standing behind a counter, his hands working furiously to clean a mug in what looks to be a nervous motion. The other is a woman, who despite being in her mid twenties has not aged well. Her low-cut dress, and the tray under her arm, marks her to be most likely the waitress of the place. The other five, however, are an odder group by far.

One is merely odd, a 6'5" purple skinned, anthropomorphic hippo, one eye covered in a black patch a single ruby set in the middle, the other turning to look towards you. He is polishing a strange metal tube, rubbing it to a pristine shine, even as he speaks in a deep baritone, "Oi, close the door."

The second is more menacing. Even sitting at a table the minotaur is a massive creature, and a glance tells you that were he to stand he'd be almost as much taller than Armstrong as Armstrong is than Ciara. Before him sits a chessboard, and as the door opens he places down his bishop and turns towards the doorway. "The inn here is reserved for guests till tomorrow," He says, "It may be best for you to leave."

The third is a humanoid bug, four arms reaching for four kukris as you open the door, mantis-like antennae folding up against his head. "Does that mean I can eat 'em?" He says quickly, "I'm hungry and the kitchen isn't bringing my meat fast enough." He moves forward from where he was leaning against a wall to a full upright position, glancing at the fourth, and final, member of the strange group.

The last is a drow, white hair framing a black skinned face. Sitting opposite of the minotaur, he pauses from smoking his pipe, and turns his crimson eyes towards you. "Gloriff is right, close the door it's -censored- bright with the sun out," He says irately before giving out a long sigh. "No Tz'cthathik, they might in fact be the guests we're expecting." He looks at you with his red eyes, watching you for a moment, waiting.

[Metroid33]

Ciara follows the large man in gesturing the other two to follow in suit and closes the door behind them when they enter.Thenshe glances around and gets an understanding of who is here. "Well if your guests are supposed to have pieces of papyrus showing us how to get here then I believe we are them."

[Zaydos]

The bug man makes a regretful tsking sound, and the drow glances at the innkeeper. "Get some meat out here, even if it's raw, unless you want to be the meat," He orders moving one of his knights and glancing at the minotaur, "Check in three."

"What?" The minotaur says, in a growling voice, lowering his large head towards the board to scan over it. The drow, ignoring him, turns back towards the party, "Come on in if you want, the boss left and said he'd not be back till nightfall, but he paid the innkeep here enough that the man had better be willing to serve you whatever swill he's got. My advice, don't try the wine, it's wretched."

[Metroid33]

Ciara moves in and pulls up a chair next to the drow, intently watching the match of chess that lay before her trying to see the drow's plan. "Well then do you already know our names or shall we introduce ourselves?" Ciara says to the drow that appears to be in charge.

[~Corvus~]

The towering man looks suspiciously at all of these people. Crossing his arms, he looks past the chess game to the dark-skinned, long-eared one. Clearly an organizing mind. I don't really understand why we're here. Im not sure strange mesaages are the best way to have long-term followers, but here...we...are. Are you in control of...these worlds being crashed together?

[Anachronity]

Moresby chooses a spot in a corner near the entrance to stand awkwardly, trying his best to hide his bewilderment at these strange patrons. He waits for the dark elf to respond to Ciara's question, deciding that he would not volunteer his surname in case these suspicious characters were looking for his blood but did not know his face.

[Zaydos]

"Don't know nobody," The minotaur answered making his next move the drow matching it in moments. "And don't control nothin'. The boss might know something, but he didn't seem happy when the ship got yanked. And that I'd like to know how they did it."

The drow gives him an irritated look and gives out a sigh. "The boss said to expect company, that there'd be four guests each with a message telling them to come here, and that he'd be unable to meet them till nightfall but to make you feel welcome if you arrived. I don't know more than that, save that if you try something funny we're more than capable of handling it." His voice oozes with a smarmy confidence as he say the last, the voice of someone arrogantly certain of their own ability. "As for names, I am Durinid and my house... let's just say I said a few things about those -censored- crazy -censored- and their -censored- crazy -censored censored- goddess so they don't like me using that name anymore."

"Or being alive," The minotaur added with a laugh.

The shot the minotaur a venomous look but continued, "And my feebleminded companion here is Toshir of Clan Mascun, hailing from Ansalon on the world of Krynn. Our good giff is..."

"Oi, I'll introduce myself," the hippoman said, "Drunt of the Yareck Chapter of the Arvin Dralms. Warrior whose name is heard with honor and renown in three spheres."

"Yes, quite," the drow says boredom leaking in his voice, "And we call the mantis Cutter, he seems to like it well enough," The 'mantis' simply shrugs four arms rising and falling, "He's a thri-kreen from a -censored- hunk of worthless rock called Athas. Hard as the Abyss to get into and harder still to get out of, thought we'd end up slaves in an obsidian mine for some sorcerer-king, not a place I'd like to go back to, let's just leave it at that."

"Not a place I'd like to go back to," 'Cutter' says clicking his mandibles.

[Anachronity]

"I am Moresby" he speaks quickly, hoping that the others' introductions will prevent suspicion regarding his omission of any surname or title.

[~Corvus~]

You may call me Jo, the bald young man says. His straight back either reflects exceptional optimism or he is unwilling to say more.

What is it all that we should do for this...boss of yours? And why the choices such as us?

[Powgow]

"Something like that, yes..." Sybil mouths off the answer to the man's inquiry while nodding off at the other man, before following the man's example and enters the tavern. She might have been gawking quite a bit at the...unusual patrons of said tavern, but she quickly adjusts herself into the conversation, following the words with a few knowing nods and increasing gleams of understanding in her eyes.

-0-

She waits until the majority has introduced themselves before opening with her piece.

"I'm called Sybil. I'm from around he-...well, a portion of this city present belonged to Metrol, of the nation of Cyre and the continent of Khorvaire. I stop there sometimes, and I was stopping there before...all of these transpired." She pauses for a bit to allow another intake of air before continuing, "Are you all mercenaries then? Or perhaps explorer-adventurers looking for a bit of a job when the event happened?"

[Zaydos]

"Glorious mercenaries," the giff says, rolling his words standing up straight. "Hired by an arcane to act as his bodyguards."

The drow nods, even as he moves his queen placing the minotaur into checkmate, "The boss hasn't told us much, never does but long as the job keeps me off Toril I'm happy. The boss told us to stay put, said it was dangerous out there, and that they needed to travel alone since it was easier to avoid notice." He turns from the completed game of chest, placing his fingers under his chin as he watches you with his red eyes. "So what exactly is going on outside?"

The minotaur glares at the chessboard and snort a bit, rising to his feet standing about 7'3". "Grrrraaar!" He bellows. "Again? -censored- Innkeep your strongest swill!" He turns to the innkeeper a demanding glare on his face as he takes his 'swill' and begins to nurse his defeat.

Throughout it all the thri-kreen 'Cutter' simply leans back against the wall once more watching and waiting. When the waitress brings him a slab of half-raw meat he sets upon it like a ravenous beast tearing into it with bare hands and insectoid mandibles.

[Metroid33]

As the Minotaur walks off to get his drink ciara moves over to take hsi seat "Would you care to play with me?" She says gesturing to the board. "And out there it seems that everyone is at everyone's throats. Suspicious of everyone else who they don't know."

[Zaydos]

The drow gives a faint grin, long fingered hands moving deftly to set the pieces back to starting positions. "Certainly. Though, for the one who asked us all to introduce ourselves you seem to be the only one who has not yet said what to call you." Before you have a chance to answer, his red eyes flick upwards, "White, I presume?"

[Metroid33]

"Why of course white, and you do have a point. I am Ciara, I don't believe you would recognize my name. But you never know."

[Anachronity]

"Krynn? Athas?" Moresby had of course never heard of these places, but it brought something else to his attention.

"I take it you're well-accustomed to travelling across planes then? You seem to know each other well enough already."

[Zaydos]

Durinid shakes his head. "Planes no," He says softly, "Only left the Prime once in my life, but there are other ways to travel between worlds."

The minotaur snorts a bit, throwing back his head, "This, though, is just plain weird. Things shouldn't combine like this."

[~Corvus~]

Outside is Chaos. It seems as if worlds have been...combined together. This, then, your master's doing? And how are our lives at stake?

[Zaydos]

The minotaur shakes his head. "He's a merchant, not something that could do this. Must have been the gods."

[Powgow]

"Considering what happened I won't blame them a bit for over-reacting..." Sybil said, seemingly now letting herself relax a bit once she's known that nobody in this inn seems interested in being aggressive with their weapons and fists. "There have been a lot of strange behaviors out there. People almost losing themselves with joy over the abundance of water, signs of predatory tendencies, even some warnings about men with eagle masks with flaming spears." She looks up from where she's sitting towards the others, "Recognize any of those?"

[Metroid33]

"I almost feel like this is beyond the gods. I've seen what a god could do and it would require many yo do this. But that is the problem, the gods are arrogant and don't like to work with others. The only time I've seen them cooperate if there is something that threatens them. Why would they work together to throw a buntch of worlds together. What purpose would there be for them?" Ciara says all this, then moves her pawn to king 4.

[roll0]

[Zaydos]

As Sybil talks the mantis twitches its head, mandibles clicking. "Athas has little water. People there are hard and predators as well." Cutter's mandibles click again as he stops talking.

"Oi, there could be others, though sure does sound like that place. No proper black powder to be found either," the giff says, "Can't fight a proper war without black powder."

"No iron either," The minotaur adds, "Can't say I've heard of anything that might be the other, though and can't speak for the nature of the gods. Durinid?"

The drow lightly moves his queen's pawn, "I know no more than you. Nor do I know the limits of the gods. I know that once Lolth sought to draw many Primes into the Abyss and succeeded with many such worlds, but I know not how she had the power needed. Let me ask, you, though. Is this the work of gods, or fiends?"

[Anachronity]

"Sometimes gods and fiends are hard to tell apart, I'm sure you can agree." Moresby says with some cynicism, thinking of his own circumstances and not knowing fully the new nature of his bewinged former acquaintance.
"And of course there's some unthinking artifact out there somewhere collecting dust that could let a peasant do this, for all we know."

[Powgow]

"I see..."

Sybil got a bit quiet after the answers and the turn of the conversation towards the divine. While she might not be the foremost authority of religions (excepting not her own anyway, in any case), she has read enough bits and pieces of ancient texts to know about matters of the divine and planes not of her own. Taking up her memories in a little bit of a jog, she tries to recall any details that might be useful in uncovering more of this mystery.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Zaydos]

The drow laughs, and grins at Moresby an honest grin. "Don't let the priestesses of Lolth here you say that, friend, they'll flay you alive. And I'm certain you're right, some mage of some sort almost certainly would make something that would do this, for no reason save his own madness."

The innkeeper looks at you, mustering a grin. "Food, drink?" He asks.

Save dining, and talking to this strange crew, there's not much to do in the inn but wait till the sun sets and their boss arrives.

[~Corvus~]

Since it is clear that the others have little ideas about the world's merging, he doesn't mention the multiple suns.

When they mention the desert-world, however, the nearly-bald man perks up. This Athas sounds familiar. No or little metal? Are there no true gods, and mostly elemental spirits? is it a large cold wasteland where few shrubs grow, perhaps, with large insect-like creatures that roam about, spreading a horrible black ichor that taints and corrupts peoples' souls? And it is also a destination for evil spirits to drag others to and...

He trails off as his explanation gets further and further from what they'd expected. So we are all clearly from different places with different understandings. There seems to be I'm share religion between a few of you from different worlds. How did you all meet and travel between such lands?

[Zaydos]

As Armstrong speaks the mercenaries begin to raise their eyebrows watching him curiously.

"Not quite," Cutter says when the neanderthal stops.

Still playing the rather close game of chess, the drow looks up at the last, "Well I met the boss as the city of Baldur's Gate on Faerun when I was driven out from my home on fear of death. He was looking for a new guard and a mage in particular and I was looking not to get lynched so I thought going as far away as possible would be a good decision. Drunt and Toshir were already on board."

"That was back when we still had Voby and Krelg," the hippo-man reminisces, "I sign aboard in exchange for repairs for my chapter's flagship, and well the pay was good so I stayed on as bodyguard and chief munitions officer. Got to see lots of places and travel pretty far, too. Well till now."

"You gotta see," The minotaur began, "the boss is a merchant, one of the arcane. They hire bodyguards as they go, and each of us had nothin', or not much, to lose by signin' on. The pay is good and it sates my wanderlust at least, and Drunt's desire for explosives."

"Oi!" The giff objects, "Won't be happy till the boss lets me instal a bombard. A proper ship has a cannon, not just some glass balls filled with alchemist's fire and black powder."

"Still explodes," The minotaur says with a shrug.

The drow grins up at Ciara as the game continues, the chess game still looking close even as it nears its end game.

[Zaydos]

The chess game continues for some time, though it becomes apparent that while Ciara will be able to drag out the game the drow has won it. After the chess game ends there is little else to do but wait, drinking or eating as you desire, for the remaining hour until night fall.

The shuttered windows of the tavern make it difficult to determine exactly when nightfall is and it is without warning that you see a series of flashes of light coalescing into humanoid form. The light forms a twelve-foot tall manshape only for a moment before they fully materialize. The bald 12' tall man has blue skin and a tunic of luxurious silk, and is forced to bend his graceful body to fit within the inn's low roof. At his waist is a metallic belt studded with gems, one hand holding a gem almost as if it were a knob. The blue skinned man glances about. "So I see all four of you arrived; you are the guests I am expecting, correct?" His voice is calm and level, his eyes languidly scanning the inn's common room. "I am certain you have many, many questions. I am almost as in the dark as you are, save for the message, and warning, the entity gave me to tell you. Perhaps it would be best for me to begin there. In the center of this city is the Grand Ziggurat of Kalidnay, home to the Sorcerer-King Kalid-Ma. He is being informed as we speak, much as you are, and with his new knowledge it is almost a certainty he shall begin in his attempts to seize this patchwork city. You do not, at this time, have the power to stop him."

He moves to sit in one of the inn's chairs. "Now, it is possible for you to flee this city. Otherwise you must prepare to try and weather the coming war."

[Powgow]

The mood of the room has dwindled down into a bit of a relaxing atmosphere as the time winds down. Even Sybil's earlier on-the-edge attitude mellowed down somewhat as she had something pretty nice to drink and eat, settling down to a more inquisitive mood as she try to recall something inside her memories to make sense of this incident, with rather poor results. Sybil's own train of thought is interrupted as the figure of light abruptly showed up in the tavern without much fanfare.

The words of said light being are even more fantastic than expected. True to his words, there are so many questions floating inside her head right now. The words, while remaining engraved inside her memories, means nothing without the proper context.

"How long do we have until this Sorcerer-King make his move, do you think?" Her tone is calm even as their seemingly benevolent savior delivered bad news upon her proverbial doorstep, though she's visibly fidgeting on her seat in case they need to leave immediately. Perhaps she's beginning to adjust to the pace of these times of trouble. "And what kind of...entity gave you the warning that you readily accepted it as the truth?"

[Zaydos]

The blue giant looks at the changeling, "The kind with the power to enforce such belief," He says, "As for the other, he is being informed as to the nature of this new world right now. I believe he will make his move as soon as he is done being told of things."

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong laughs in response to the exchange between the hippo-man and the minotaur, and makes small talk until the "boss" returns. Mostly, though, he is engaged in watching the chess game. When it is concluded, he says The battle of wits and tactics is always a joy to watch.


As for the other, he is being informed as to the nature of this new world right now. I believe he will make his move as soon as he is done being told of things."

And what move is he making that is relevant to us, if we can't stop him?

[Zaydos]

"Whether you can fight him or not his attempt to seize the city could endanger your life. You yet have time to flee it, before he'd have reason to care, risking the wilds of this new formed world. Otherwise there is a task you can perform when he moves; power that cannot be faced head on can still be diverted."

[Anachronity]

Moresby's immediate fears regarding his identity are assuaged, but he still feels there is a whole lot more which needs to be answered.

"I won't say no to saving the world... worlds?... from some despot, but you're going to need to tell us a lot more about these unknown informants; if not now, then really soon."

[Zaydos]

"My own information is scant. I was not told what the entities were, why they were doing this, or much more than that I was selected to act as 'messenger' and called a 'pawn'," The blue giant answered with a sigh. "I can say that whatever they are they have power to rival if not surpass the gods, and seem to consider these whole events some form of a game, and us simply pieces for the game. Even the Sorcerer-King they called a 'major piece'."

[~Corvus~]

The well-built man folds his arms over his chest. I am satisfied this is non longer a demonic trick to me and something greater.

He lets out a deep breath and continues, what is this task that we can do? I prefer to help others if I can, and it seems as if many cities are involved in this magic. Should it be diverted, even from some course, what is the eventual outcome?

[Zaydos]

The arcane glances at Armstrong as he continues his voice soft. "I cannot speak much of outcomes, I have but a little knowledge and the ability to form conclusions. The Sorcerer-Kings of Athas through dread rituals can increase their power and further their transformation into something more monstrous than they already are. The entity informed me that Kaled-Ma has been planning an attempt to step further than any other Sorcerer-King has ever gone alone, to become a full-fledged dragon. If he should do so his power might be completely unrivaled, not only that, but the ritual will suck the life from thousands within the patchwork city, if not all who dwell within it."

"So if you would stay within this city then it is imperative for you that you prevent him from completing this task. He will soon set about seizing control of the city, but there are forces which will oppose him, and if he is to gain the Forges of Metrol then he must act quickly, personally, and decisively. In which case it is now that you too must act. Within the ziggurat are a collection of amber spheres. Sneak into it, find them, take them, and make certain that they are not found. The Shadow Thieves of Athkatla have a base beneath the Sea's Bounty nearby. The Thieves' Guild of Lhankmar, too, exists within this city. One of these guilds may help you with entering the ziggurat if told of the danger and made to believe. If you do this, I cannot say what will happen to you or the city, it is likely that Kaled-Ma still maintains the power to defeat his rivals for control of the city, and even with this doom averted it may still be for the best for you to flee the city rather than live under his rule."

[Anachronity]

Moresby pauses a moment to take in what the giant has just said.

"Well, however much I wish I knew, I can't say that I'm keen on letting some sorcerer-king make off with the countless souls of the innocent."

He reflexively reaches to stroke the fur of the Worg Pelt that should cover his arm, but is no longer there. Oh, right, I should probably ask about that.

"Were you the one who gave us these notes, or was that this mysterious chess player of yours? Do you know anything about what happened to us?" Moresby asks, gesturing with his head over to Ciara as the most blatantly visible of the changes he suspected they had all experienced.

[Zaydos]

"The notes were the doing of the 'chess player' not I," The arcane says, "I knew only that they had been given out. As for what happened to you... you were selected as 'important pieces'. Each such 'piece' is constructed of two souls, two beings from two of the worlds which were used to make this twisted chessboard. For some these are separate individuals, for others they are two versions of the same being from alternate Prime material worlds. You are each yourself and one other, as am I, as is Kalid-Ma, as are a few others scattered throughout the city, and more still outside of it."

[Powgow]

Sibyl listens intently as the conversation goes on. The stories of the sorcerer-king's plans and these so-called 'chess players' are fascinating, if not completely believable. For some reason, however, she cannot shake the feeling that all those ridiculous things are completely and irrevocably true. After all, these memories inside her head have to come from somewhere, right? The tall blue merchant's explanation is as good as any, and she's a bit unnerved on how much these mean on her immediate future...

...Well, if it's all just a silly game, might as well play it.

"If I am to act and foil this Kalid-Ma's plans, who would be there to support me?" Sybil asks, her body language seems much more eager to act compared to just a couple of minutes earlier. She then withdraws a piece of chalk from her pouch, spying for an unoccupied space in the immediate vicinity as she speaks. "Would you offer help, merchant?" I may not have that many gold pieces, but perhaps I can still offer enough gold to buy an exit from this city."

[Zaydos]

"My advice would be simply to take the spheres and flee as swiftly as possible. If you choose to stay... I do not know all the major pieces in this city, but I took advantage of the last few hours to investigate some of the city. Metrol will do its best to stand against Kalid-Ma's assault, but it will be hard pressed, even mere water riots from the Athasians were hard for the city's defenders to put down. They have a great potential industry, but their main war forces were scattered, only the garrison defending the Forge remaining.

"The forces of a land called Granbretan may hold the key to opposing Kalid-Ma's own. The entity called out its king Huon as a major player, who would act as a stumbling block for Kalid-Ma's power," The arcane pauses, many jointed fingers drumming lightly on the table, "However, between what I've heard on the streets and the entity's own comments, I am uncertain Huon would be any better a lord than Kalid-Ma. I fear even if he overcame Kalid-Ma he'd simply move to become a Sorcerer-King himself.

"It is unlikely that the thieves' guilds which were drawn into the Patchwork City will bear Kalid-Ma any love, or desire to see his plans reach fruition but it is also unlikely they will go forth and risk themselves directly, but perhaps they have the means to aid you in an attempt to take the amber spheres.

"I know also of a certain Beldinas Pilofiro, Kingpriest of Istar," As the arcane said these words the minotaur's brows arched, his head tilting, mouth shaping the word 'Istar'. The arcane, however, continued on. "Beldinas is infamous upon Krynn, a name associated with foolish pride and blasphemy. That said, he fought for the so-called forces of Good, and ruled as high priest. He may be able to rally the knights of Solamnia, or have them spit upon his name.

"Another army within the city would be the Harmonium of Ortho. I ran out of time when I reached them so I can tell you only that they were there and seemed to be the Hardheads of Ortho as opposed to Sigil.

"As for my own help. It depends upon what you desire. If you simply want to flee the city right now... I believe I could see you free of it for an affordable price."

[Anachronity]

Having paused momentarily in stunned silence from the arcane's answer to his question, Moresby lets out a resigned chuckle.

"So was it your benefactor who smushed us each into a flavorful soul pudding then? Because I have some choice words for whoever it was that literally put a monster inside of me... I don't suppose you can pull us back apart?"

Despite his venomous tone, Moresby suspected the arcane had as little choice in this as he did. The circumstances certainly made it difficult to trust the giant, though.

[Zaydos]

"Oh yes, being pulled from my ship, smushed as you say with another entity, and having my ship held on the condition that I work as a courier makes them my benefactor, of course it does," The arcane says sarcastically and bitterly. "How about this, find a way to kill them and get me my ship back and I'll pay you well."

[Anachronity]

Moresby feels a sudden pang of guilt for snapping at the arcane.

"Well... As long as we know who our real enemies are here, I suppose we shouldn't waste time. Can anyone recommend one guild or the other, or should we just go with whichever one is closest?"

[~Corvus~]

Jonathan has been quiet for a few minutes, delving into his mind and coming to terms with his entirely new set of memories. He nods his head and seems to relax more.

I'm coming to the conclusion--somewhat belatedly--that this isn't just some demonic trick. It seems we are all coping with memory flooding and personality-melding in different ways.

To you all that I was suspicious of before. My apologies. The tall man gives a polite bow to them all.

He turns to Sibyl and continues,
If we can prevent or divert this magical disaster, we should. The lives of a great number of worlds could hinge on...well, our actions, I suppose. And we are nine-strong. Those sorts of numbers could make for a decent group.

Finally, this sort of ritual seems set up to gather the kind of power that mortals likely should not have. Perhaps the merchant here has some insight into what would happen if the ritual proceeds as the sorcerer-King plans? This last question is directed to the mercane, but obviously for the benefit of everyone.

[Zaydos]

"I know little about the thieves of Lankhmar, save that they had great power in the crown city of Nehwon. The Shadow Thieves are located nearby and I doubt they'd believe that seeing Kalid-Ma's power absolute would be good for their business."

The arcane turns to glance at Armstrong. "I am no warrior, and my task here is completed; me and my guards will not be remaining within the city for the chaos that will come. I was told to provide you with the necessary information, I was not told to ensure you won. As for the result of such a ritual... I am uncertain. The entity only said so much. That it would make Kalid-Ma into a second Athasian dragon, increasing his psionic and magical powers greatly even while making his physical form that much harder to vanquish. He would likely become so powerful that only the gods, and the entities which made this place, could oppose him, if they were willing and not bound by some convention of their order. As for the ritual itself... it is a massive act of defiling. Even the lesser acts kill plants and insects nearby, the spells of sorcerer-kings are said to kill lower animals as well, this ritual would likely drain the life of most of the city, seeing its inhabitants turned to dust."

The merchant pauses and then adds, as if in after thought, "I would of course prefer this not to happen. The destruction of cities is generally bad for business and I do not know how long I will be forced to do business in this place."

[Powgow]

"I'm not...exactly a fan of genocide either, much less one that's done for so selfish a motive, so I'd be inclined to agree." Sybil says, gripping her piece of chalk even tighter. "Still, I'll perhaps need a couple of minutes to prepare..."

Withdrawing a pouch from her belt bag, Sybil once again turns toward the blue man, a hint of a smile on her face.

"You said you're a merchant, yes? Do you have provisions for a traveler with a bit of gold but a lack of supplies?"

[Zaydos]

The arcane turned its bald head slowly towards Sybil. "What sort of provisions do you need. I have been known to have many things, but I mainly deal in small, extremely valuable items. You will find no simple rope, or common tools here."

[Anachronity]

Moresby sours at the arcane's attitude towards this whole ordeal, but he supposes one can't be blamed for not risking one's life.

At Sybil's question of available goods, Moresby's interest is peaked. He had arrived here with nothing more than what he was wearing and a pack filled with assorted currency, which he had not yet counted. Unfortunately common tools and the like were what he most needed at this point.

"Potions, scrolls, or wands to aid in acquisition of these spheres would be ideal, depending on just how valuable we're talking."

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong frowns severely when the merchant mentions his intentions to take his guards with him. It seems there is a very large amount of information you have about these places. Its a pity you'll not even have a few of your guards as aides, even if it is to get back your ship. We have six places to visit and a ship besides; four adventurers such as ourselves would be spread thin.

He continues onward without pause.

However, if this ritual is about to take place, and there are several groups that you know, perhaps you have some documents that would influence their decisions to offer us aid? At the very least, a document outlining the potential benefits of helping us out? If you have potential information for the thieves' guild, too, then they may want to give agents.

Finally, I am left without a means to draw upon my Amestrian family's large sum of funds. I am copperless. if this deity wanted you to ensure our survival, I for one have little else beyond the marginslly magical spiked fists you see here, he says, motioning the partial-gauntlet fists etched with runes that convey a minor strength enhancement, and a few rudimentary spells of protection. I'm not sure these are inherent ingredients for huge success.

You could, after all, consider them an investmentinto our success.

[Zaydos]

"I have all of the above, what sort of scrolls are you looking for?" The arcane said to Moresby. When Armstrong spoke it looked to the neanderthal and shook his head. "I have been told to act as courier in exchange for my ship. I have not been told to ensure your success. If you can succeed in this I may consider investing in you at a later date, but as of right now I suspect that you will not succeed no matter how much aid I provide you. No, I am a merchant, not a gambler. I do not invest in losing odds."

It paused, drumming its fingers on the table. "However this is the only city here I am aware of, I would like to see it not be destroyed. If you can prove to me that your chances are better than I suspect I might consider giving you some further aid. As for when the ritual will take place, I suspect it will not happen till the sorcerer-king has some control over the city. It is just that in the first few strikes he will be forced to leave himself open. Tell the thieves' guild what I've told you and they may lend you aid for free. Tell the others... I suspect that you would be too late if you went to any of them first. My guess is that of those I told you about, many are major pieces such as yourselves and I, and that if Kalid-Ma and you are being thus instructed, they are being told everything I am telling you right now. Or a variation there upon. If you want me to guide you to one, tell me which and I will do my best to provide you with a map. I traveled primarily through the use of certain objects in my possession, however, and they could not carry a force such as yours."

[Powgow]

"Some kind of protection from blades would work wonders for me. As is some concealable weapons to defend myself with." After she said that, Sybil takes an opportunity to peer inside her gold purse, with a less-than-happy expression on her face. Anything's better than going into a literal den of thieves empty handed really.

"Oh, some kind of trinkets or accessories to make me look presentable would do nicely as well. If these items work and I live to tell the tale, I'm sure I'd be willing to spread the good word about your goods~." She says, accentuating the rather plain dress she's wearing right now. Notably, her tone of voice had become more and more relaxed over time, perhaps proof that whatever feelings of anxiety she suffered earlier had beginning to erode.

[Zaydos]

The arcane looks at your gold and your amount of funds, or more properly lack there of. "I have a Circlet which might do the last but I doubt you can afford it. You might be able to afford a suit of armor, perhaps chain shirt or breastplate, but the more sophisticated items for preventing blades from poking you are likely out of your price range. Alternatively, I have a spear of sickle you may like, or perhaps a sword, though if you're looking for more mundane means of protection and weaponry, I'm certain the thieves could provide you with some light arms."

The giff gave a little chuckle, "Need a shortsword? Longsword? Mace? I've got a bit of a collection in my room, I might be able to give you a piece of it."

[Anachronity]

Moresby racks his brain for the limited knowledge he has of spells. He had some experience buying scrolls and potions, and he knew that, for the price, invisibility and silence were too likely not to last long enough. Even so, he may as well check.

"A scroll or potion of silence or invisibility would be ideal, given the situation and depending on your particular price."

[Zaydos]

"Given the circumstances I'd be willing to part with such a scroll for three pounds of gold each. I have four of invisibility, but only three of silence. I have potions as well, but I'd have to charge you more or else be selling them at a substantial loss."

[Anachronity]

"I'll take the scroll of silence, at least. The one should be able to cover all of us. We may need to find a better means of invisibility, or rather a cheaper one."

Moresby chuckles at his own observation. "Saving the city on a budget..."

Just then a thought strikes him. "I've heard of spells which can create a sphere of invisibility to encompass multiple people, do you have any scrolls for that?"

[Zaydos]

"I have two which, given the circumstances, I could let go for seven and a half pounds of gold each. Not a high asking price for such a scroll."

[Anachronity]

Moresby sighs. "Not a high price at all, but still one I cannot afford. I'll take the silence scroll, and hope that these shadow thieves have and will be willing to sell some of the others at a loss, seeing as how they have more to lose."

[Zaydos]

The arcane nodded, producing the scroll seemingly from its sleeve. "Anything else you will be desiring to purchase?" It asked glancing around the room, "Or shall I be on my way. Well... The Sea's Bounty tavern just down the way a bit is a front for the Shadow Thieves, if you say their pass phrase, 'the Blue Ghost sailed yesterday' they should at least talk to you to find out how you knew it."

[Anachronity]

Moresby takes the scroll as he hands the gold to the giant.

"Got it" he says, and looks inquisitively at the others to see if they are ready to depart.

[Powgow]

"I'll take the the chain shirt then, I doubt I can afford the breastplate and still can purchase something significant with the rest..." She had plenty of dealings with thieves' guilds before, and gold is everything with them. Securing just enough gold to leverage your position in negotiations could be vital. "...And well, if the short sword is on sale, I think I'll be taking that as well. It's a lot better than being un-armed."

With that, she takes out the amount of gold agreed upon and puts the pieces on the table. She then looks on expectantly for the goods to be revealed while fiddling with her ceremonial chalk.

[Zaydos]

"The chain shirt will be 25 pounds of gold, or two and a half of platinum, or one thousand two hundred and fifty gold coins. The sword will be almost twice that, unless you want to take my armory officer up on his offer, though I can assure you his gift will bear no enchantment."

[Powgow]

"T-twice...?" Sybil almost literally turns blue at the mention of the price. Well, you know what they say about merchants and monopolies... "...I'll make do with no enchantments for now." She says as she pours the coins from her purse onto the table, counting to every last coin as to make it as accurate as possible down to the last gold coin of the chain shirt's price.

[Zaydos]

"A prudent decision to be sure," The arcane said even as the giff went back into the tavern and emerged a few minutes later with a shortsword.

"Got it on Khargen from one of their bravos, take good care of it," the hippo-man said as he tossed it, and its sheath, to Sybil.

"If that will be all I believe we ought to take our leave of this place," The arcane said rising to its feet even as it gestured to its body guards. "I have no desire to be in this place when it becomes a warzone."

The giff and minotaur went back towards their rooms to gather their belongings the sellswords and their employer swiftly preparing to leave.

[Powgow]

Sybil deftly catches the thrown sword and sheath before summarily loosen the sword from its resting place. It’s a well-made sword, and certainly not the worst sword she’d seen in her life, but there’s nothing that really stands out about its craftsmanship.

”Thank you,” Sybil mouths off to the departing bodyguard before returning the sword under the tight constraint of the sheath. It still serves her purpose for now. Sybil then picks up the chain shirt from the table before settling the sword at her belt before turning towards the other two.

”I still need a couple of minutes to prepare, apologies.” With that she disappears to the back of the tavern with the chain shirt and ceremonial chalk on hand.


-0-

Once she’s clear, Sybil begins to draw the summoning seal over a flat surface. She then chanted a few words in tongues as the seal begin to glow with a dim but pronounced occult energy. After a few more seconds of chanting, the light grows brighter, and the features of a vaguely humanoid shape can be seen on the seal.

”Heed my call, O Noble Naberius. Lend me your voice for the occasion!”

[Zaydos]

In the back of the tavern, a black crane appeared in the circle before Sybil, only for a three-headed dog to approach it from the aether and viciously seize it with its jaws and begin tearing into it. One of the heads glares out at Sybil with bright eyes as it speaks hoarsely. "Oh, it's you. Calling upon my," it pauses, lowering the speaking head to bite into the crane voraciously, raising another head which continues, "powers once again?"

Meanwhile in the front of the tavern the arcane and its men emerge once more. "We will be taking our leave now. The Sea's Bounty is but two blocks towards the... setting of the larger sun. Remember 'the Blue Ghost sailed yesterday'." Without a further word the arcane leaves the inn following behind the minotaur, the other three trailing after him.

Don't actually have to roleplay the pact if you don't want, Powgow, and in general I'm currently working on the assumption you'll all be heading to the Sea's Bounty, if I'm wrong just someone let me know.

[Powgow]

"Indeed I do, but this one is a special occasion. I had the feeling that you'll like it." After she said that last bit, the images of the hound and the crane seemingly disappear in a flash, leaving the room barren once again. There had been no visible change to her outer appearance, but her gait and bearing seems to have more of a self-assured bent to them. Adjusting her hood once again to cover most of her face, she immediately exits the room to rejoin her companions.

"Now, let's see what these thieves had to say."

Her voice, however, seems to have taken the gravelly tone of the three-headed hound earlier.

Well, I finished up the pacting scene quickly as requested. I'm heading to the Sea's Bounty, yeah, but I don't know how the others want to play it.

[~Corvus~]

After some deliberation, the (somewhat?) tall man reaches a conclusion.

I have an idea: the Sea's bounty seems like a reliable place to send our informants. Let's try to get four groups to meet there: the two thieves' guilds, the force of Granbretan, and Beldinas. If we could get these four groups to join us at the Bounty, perhaps we could even manage enough muscle to get the mercane's ship.

What do you think?

[Anachronity]

Moresby shows a slight grimace before responding to his like-minded friend.

"A desirable goal, but I doubt we have the time for all of that. The city's populace could be drained into soulless husks at literally any moment from what I understand. We should visit the Shadow Thieves at the Sea's Bounty quickly and then get one of these amber spheres to stop any catastrophes. Only then will we have time to rally against this sorcerer king as you suggest."

[Powgow]

"I agree with that sentiment," The hooded woman returns from the back of the tavern to join the conversation somewhat abruptly. While her voice is a lot deeper than before and her face is obscured by the lowered hood, the fact that she still wears the same clothing and still sports the same body proportion it's not a hard task to fill in the blanks.

"We don't seem to have much time from the way the merchant told us. Negotiations between factions that know little of each other take time, not to mention there are too many unknown quantities in their relationships with each other. We're also quite short in the way of incentives right now." She states the last part of her argument rather dry and matter-of-factly.

[~Corvus~]

The tall man seems to be weighing the choices here. His brow furrows, and he places his fingers and thumb at the bridge of his nose while closing his eyes. Hmm....

He takes a full breath and says to Sibyl, ...If you truly think we have such little time, then perhaps It's best. But those are poor chances, and we're wasting time.

He looks over to Ciara, who has been silent for some time. Shall we? But it's more rhetorical than anything. Looking over at the map marked by the mercane, he stands up to go to the tavern.

[Zaydos]

The Sea's Bounty was little more than a block away, the inn larger and more impressive than that where you had met with the arcane. The stone facade faces towards the wharfs, even though they are hidden from view by other structures. The door is made of good, strong wood, the sign hanging down from an out-jutting pole.

Opening the door into the inn you see another ill-lit tavern, empty save for a single man behind the counter. His eyes are sharp and scanning as he looks you over. "Didn't expect many customers with the events going on," He said, "Catch a view of the sun? Or should I say suns? It can't be natural can it, think it's another Time of Troubles?" He sighs. "Well regardless let me roust the layabouts I keep hired to serve my guests and get your orders."

He's dressed in simple fair, his tunic rough with wear around the edges, his beard short and a ruddy brown. His stomach shows that his life has quieted compared to what it once might have been and age is beginning to catch up with him, but his voice is confident and strong.

There are 6 tables scattered about the main room, the stairwell up half hidden where it comes off the main room to the left. A pair of fire places would keep the place warm in winter.

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong greets the bartender warmly, and laughs disarmingly. I wasn't expecting to see them, that's for sure. Speaking of troubles, I heard that the Blue Ghost sailed yesterday. If that's the case, my companions and I would like a nice drink so we can figure out what to do next. Do you know anyone who might be able to...charter us a vessel? His words flow smoothly, and he sets down a few silver--for the drinks of course--and looks up down at the man.

[Powgow]

Sybil follows behind Armstrong into the inn, her significantly smaller frame obscured by the Neanderthal's own. Her hood still obscures the top part of her face, leaving her feminine mouth and chin visible to even the most casual of viewers.

"Something not too strong for me, please. I need to keep myself alert." She tried to use a higher-pitched voice than earlier, but her voice still sounds unmistakably masculine, contrasting her still-feminine build and revealed features. To her credit, Sybil immediately withdraws a couple of silver coins from her purse to try and bring more attention towards the coins rather than her peculiar voice. For now, she's content to let Armstrong speak for them before pitching in her own words.

[Zaydos]

The man seems to take no heed of Sybil's strange voice as he looks the neanderthal over, and over again. "Most charters have been... disrupted. But if you told me where you wanted to get to then I might be able to find you passage," He says, licking his lips lightly. "Though most of the captains are rather occupied at the moment."

[~Corvus~]

Well, talk around the town tells of a strange ziggurat and weird creatures coming from it. There is even tell of a huge flying ship near this place that's been seized by a group of fanatics. Maybe there's a group crazy to show us travelers around?

Let's get a pitcher of your establishment's modest beer and six glasses. He adds Sybil's money to his own modest sum and pushes over the counter towards the bartender.

[Zaydos]

"Well I've heard 'bout the zig'rat, and the strange towns. As for a flyin' ship, ya hear tales, but I didn't hear anythin' s'cefic today. Ya wouldn't be lookin' to go to the zig'rat, would ya?" He steps into the back room and shouts something. "Six glasses ya said," He says with a smile as a young man, about 14, emerges from the back room with six wooden cups and a pitcher of ale.

"But yes, 'xactly what sort of tour ya folks be lookin' for?

[~Corvus~]

Sir, please think on what I said and send someone our way who can help.

Armstrong turns around to walk to a table that isn't too near the entrance. He looks over to Sybil for support. TThis guy doesn't get it he whispers to her. Mind giving it a go?

[Powgow]

Sybil nodded at Armstrong's request and adjusts her position so that she's leaning closer to the Bartender somewhat naturally.

"What my companion meant was," She then lowered her voice to make sure that the conversation stays private, "We're in need of people who can help us in acquiring something. Are you familiar with them?"

Diplomacy take 10, for a result of 19

[Zaydos]

"I'm fam'lar with plenty of people, I'll have ya know. But seems like ya know a bit yaselves, however I think I can put the word out, if ya tell me what it is ya be lookin' for. Thin's are a bit chaotic at the moment, so it might not be the quickest job." The man says as the boy begins pouring you cups of beer.

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong will stand up, and gives credence to Sybil's claims, in the same low voice. Unfortunately this sort of job would be quick...but very profitable. We're looking for... he looks around at the bar, but then faces the present circumstances: These people will be dead soon anyways unless we do something. What, really, do we have to lose? We're looking for assistance to retrieve an amber sphere from this Ziggurat, and potentially other jobs as well.

He looks around and doesn't see Ciara anywhere. Where is she? She's been gone for a while.

Assist Sybil with Diplo: Add +2

[Zaydos]

The man looked at the neanderthal. "From the alien zig'rat that just plum appeared out from nowhere. Well... I know a guide who might be able to lead the way through it, but it'll be costly, and you'll have to tell 'em more 'bout it. Or were ya just lookin' for some help gettin' in yarselves?" He looks from Sybil to Armstrong, eyes moving between them. "And jut why do ya wan this here 'sphere'?"

[~Corvus~]

We have knowledge that this sorceror-king is using some powerful orbs in the ziggurat for a big ritual. Chant from our connections say these orbs are rare, valuable, and magical. We just want this despotic magic ruler's ritual to go badly. Your guild can have the orb. I'm sure your connections can find a buyer well worth the trouble.

Here's the catch: if we don't steal any orbs, the sorceror-king gains a good measure of power, and what happens next...well, let's just say that incredible pride, knowledge of arcane and dark magic, and great ambition don't mix favorably for business.

[Zaydos]

"I'll see the news gets passed along," The bartender says, "So ya are askin' us to break into a wizard's tower and steal this sphere so that we can... keep the sphere. Sounds like ya be gettin' a bit more than us from the deal. That said I'll make sure yar message gets to those in the shadows."

He pauses looking between you all. "Tell me, though, just what was ya source for the pass phrase? Ya don't look like natives if ya don't mind me sayin'."

[Anachronity]

Moresby enters the bar, having been delayed by a troubling conversation with his former acquaintance.

"I think it's down to just the three of us now", he interrupts, "Ciara thinks she has a better plan, and it's not one we can exactly help with.

Moresby's furrowed brow suggests that there is much more to this development. However, in the presence of rogues information should be guarded.

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong looks to Moresby and hefts two un-taken glasses. Walking purposefully towards him, he leans to the Moresby. Want to take this one? We are telling this man know we came by our information on the orbs, etc He jands moresby a glass then returns to the bar and gives the other glass to Sybil. He then resumes drinking from his own glass.

[Powgow]

Sybil nodded politely at the newly-returned Moresby before taking the the glass and downs her fair share of liquid.

"A tall guy, bit blue as well. Said that he doesn't want to be here when the whole thing's blown out of proportion, which can't say that I blame him." She said to the bartender, the expression beneath her hood winces a little at the taste of the cheap ale.

[Zaydos]

"A blue guy?" The barkeep says a hint of incredulity in his voice, "Well I'll see the message gets passed, but I cannae promise how timely the response will be. Let me go find a messeng'r, ok?" He says, beginning to move towards the back of the tavern. "Ya need anythin' just ask ya waiter, hear?"

The serving boy looks nervous as the boss begins to leave him alone with you, his foot moving back and forth across the ground as he glances from one of you to the other his voice silent.

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong looks to Sybil, a frown playing upon his face and opens his mouth to apprehend the barkeep. He stays his tongue when he realizes he can't possibly If we get out of this alive, Sybil, I am doing the negotiation from now on. He seems to positively glow, a glint in his eye playing that hasn't been present before. The fine art of Diplomacy is a noble pursuit that has been passed down from generation to generation of Armstrong, and I should relish the opportunity to prove my worthiness to the Ancestors!

With this pronouncement, he leaps over the bar and follows the bartender "boss" to the back. Before entering through the portal, he pauses ever so briefly to say a deep prayer:Guardians of stone and past, aid my voice in this time of need

With that, Armstrong pushes past and apprehends the barkeep without trying to cause a scene, ignoring what he may see around him. Sir, please forgive my rashness, but this situation needs immediate action. Sybil spoke but ignored what's important: Our contact is a merchant of information, and he has contracted us to find an organization he believes the most capable of... he pauses for a second, breathes a simple breath, and looks the man straight into the eye. Capable of preventing a ritual that, if successful, would kill all within these many cities.

This is why we have come to you, he calls out to the man as he ostensibly walks away from Armstrong. Please, help us save these cities and yourselves from terrible death!


Acrobatics:[roll0]

Casting GUIDANCE for a skill boost!
Diplomacy:[roll1] (Diplo +5, guidance +1) Edit: hopefully that speech gets a +2 circumstance modifier for being so ballsy.

[Zaydos]

The man pauses looking at the neanderthal for a few moments, mouth slightly ajar. "I can tell ya believe in what ya'r sayin' at least, but I am not in a position of 'thority. So I can relay the message, ifen ya'll let me go do it, but I cannae promise they'll act on it."

He moves to try and escape your grip, but pauses, dull grey eyes looking up into Armstrong's "Just how urgent is it, though? Like... should I be takin' my fishin' boat as far off into this 'ere strange new sea and prayin' to whatever gods'll listen?"

[Anachronity]

Overhearing, Moresby chuckles softly and says "Only if it's a very fast fishing boat."

[Zaydos]

The man gulps. "I'll go tell my contacts," He said, slipping the neanderthal's grasp and moving into the back of the tavern.

You can hear him giving some orders to the staff, simple stuff about how he's going to be gone for a bit.

And then the sound of a hinge creaking, feet on a ladder, and then a heavy piece of wood being lowered back into place.

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong is about to make a proposal when the bartender gives him the slip. Frustrated, angry even, he glares at Moresby. This isn't funny! Now he's -- He sighs--dramatically--but pauses at a sound.

[roll0]

But, hearing that orders are made to the staff, he reconsiders. Maybe we should make our way to the Ziggurat?

[Zaydos]

After several minutes sound can be heard from the back room again, and the man's heavy footsteps as he re-emerges. "They say they wanna talk with y'all, so ya shou' just follow me. Count yaselves lucky, y'all are about to meet the Shadow Thieves of Faerun... or what of 'em ended up in this strange place. Just a forewarnin' ya ain't the only ones wantin' a meet with them, some group callin' themselves the Thieves' Guild of Lankhmar is down there too. Just follow me and I'll show ya down."

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong's head has been beading sweat, and his shoulders look raised.

Count yaselves lucky, y'all are about to meet the Shadow Thieves of Faerun...the Thieves' Guild of Lankhmar is down there too. Just follow me and I'll show ya down.
He pauses for a few moments while staring pointedly at the barman. It looks as if he's about ready to deck him. At the last possible second it's tolerable, Armstrong throws back his head in raucous laughter.

BWAHAHAHAHaaa you really had me going there for several minutes, my good man. Thank you ever so much. Looking over his shoulder to make sure his companions haven't... I'm sure they think I'm crazy, he thinks to himself. He reaches to his belt and makes sure his metal gauntlets are present. A swift nod of approval follows his accompaniment of the barkeep along his hidden path.

[Zaydos]

If the others don't the look the innkeep-thief gives Armstrong indicates that he at least does. He leads you into the bowels of the inn, descending through a trap door in the kitchen down a wooden ladder. The scent of the sea is strong here, water flowing to your left, a torch on the wall to your right providing illumination. "It ain't far," The man guarantees as he takes the torch and leads you through a short maze of corridors the sound of water always present beneath you and the sound of voices echoing. You emerge into a lit underground "plaza" about 50-ft in diameter, humanoid figures clumped in two groups a third spread out between them. Their discussion stops as you enter, a rather bloated looking man, dressed simply but carrying about him a certain aura of authority points at Armstrong with one pudgy finger. "You are the agents of the arcane?" He asks simply.

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong gives Sybil a look as if to ask Is he trustworthy? Armstrong tells the man We have interests for the survival of these cities. Does it make a difference for whom we work?

[Anachronity]

Having only once before dealt with an organized criminal group, and then only briefly, Moresby knew only that it was best to say as little as necessary when dealing with such types.

"We have given the passphrase, I will let you draw your own conclusions. It is only important that our goal is the safety of this city and -all- of its inhabitants."
Moresby's statement is supportively appended to Armstrong's question, although his voice holds a defensive tone that betrays his distrust for the self-proclaimed thieves.

[Zaydos]

"That's what you say your goal is," the man said his voice, his movements, showing he felt confidently in control and was used to command. "Who sent you matters because they may have lied to you, they may have deceived you, because your information is suspect. Be that as it may, I am inclined to give you a measure of my time and to give ear to your tidings. So tell me, what is this danger and how do we prevent it?"

Even as he talks a man comes down from another tunnel. "Sir we have another one here talking about danger, I brought them down."

[~Corvus~]

Armstrong pulls out some Papyrus and a prayer scroll. I am not crazy, and these others will corroborate our story. A powerful force of some nature has pulled these cities together.

This payrus has a crudely drawn map showing he location he started in and a path to a place labeled 'Lonely Ghost Inn'. Also on the papyrus and beneath the map is written in an elegant, flowing hand "Come to meet at the Lonely Ghost Inn at nightfall, your life may hinge on it."

He gives it to the man to inspect. This is not the writing of a man who has carefully planned anything. This is the writing of a person whom is in a hurry. That may not sound like credible evidence, but let me describe to you an experience that I have had, and I suspect my other companions here have also had: I was living my life as a priest, a holy man who deals with elemental magics, if you will, in a land beset by evil and malevolent presences and so on. I know this place was somewhere called Rokugan, and there, our shared language is in this script.

He then shows the man this scroll, continuing, But this language was our common language, and I am from the Order of Perfect Sculpture, a group that wields earth magics, among other things, and so on. But I was not of this large body from there, he continues. There, I'd be a massive man.

I ALSO now have knowledge in me of a place called Amestris within me; There, I have memories of stories from my family, how it rose to great wealth and prominence, and how it helped against the struggle of a terrible being trying to Absorb the power of an entire nation. Armstrong looks down at his hands and pulls out the glyph-covered gauntlets that he has. And these rune-etched, strange gauntlets are from that world.

He looks up to the merchant. These memories are complete, and yet my body is mashed together with powers of two minds and lives. My instincts are telling me what what I've heard is true. I've been told that this city will soon be in great danger; that powerful stones will contain power for a man to take the lives of all in this city, or we can flee.

Faced with this startling conundrum of memories and bodies, wouldn't you believe such a thing?