Lord of the Iron Fortress IC

[PallentisLunam]

As the Crystal Hold Monastery drifts through the ever-changing chaos of Limbo, the Guardians of the Valiant relax after a job well done. In this case that consists of meditation in the great sand garden under the watchful eye of the Abbot, Oreko Seele. The elder Gith'Zerai balances perfectly on the end of a long bo staff and his grey braided mustaches dangle down past his chin. His eyes are closed and he hums softly to himself as his arms perform a complex series of katas.

It is through Oreko's mighty will that the swirling chaos of Limbo is kept at bay. Outside the walls, madness reigns but within the bounds of the Crystal Hold perfect tranquility is the order of the day. Gith'Zerai students move about the grounds in a stately manner attending to the various needs of the monastery, some draw water from the very essence of the plane, through impositions of their will upon it, others scour floors and walls with sand, and a small group practices their martial skills. These do not merely bash weapons together while roaring battle cries. In fact, their conflicts are disturbingly silent and their faces are masks of iron will.

The calm of the scene is shattered when a set of double doors are blown open by two Gith'Zerai apprentices flying bodily through them. A deep voice, like the pounding of metal, follows them "SEVEN HELLS!" Shortly, a dwarf, older than many stones can claim to be, stumps to the open doors and stands above the two apprentices who are sprawled at the foot of a flight of seven steps. The dwarf's age has hobbled him and twisted his body in knots, but he is still strong and his hair and beard are still the fiery red of his forge and his namesake. "And if either one of you pair 'o ijits even so much as thinks of putting a single toe of those candy-assed little slippers in my forge again I won't just throw ya out! I'll make you into my next blade!"

Turning around Kargarm limps his way back inside, leaving the doors to swing silently in the swirling breezes that play across the yard, breezes that were not there before the dwarf's angry outburst. As the two Gith apprentices regain their feet, not by picking themselves up but rather by floating into the air, Kargarm can be heard shouting something about a shipment of adamantine. Clapping their hands together the apprentices summon winds to dust themselves off and, never letting their masks of calm shift, they turn and walk towards the main temple.

Spinning on his pole, without so much as a wobble, Oreko cracks one eye to glance disapprovingly at the doors to the forge and then at the adventurers scattered about his domain. A simple gesture is all it takes for the Abbot to quietly blow the doors shut. Then, just as smoothly he turns back around and continues his exercises.

Welcome, everybody. My wifi has graciously allowed me to write this post but I'm still not sure that I'm out of the woods just yet. However feel free to begin interacting with your surroundings, just be aware it my take me a day or two longer than I would like to get back to you.

The Crystal Hold Monastery is a large chunk of rock floating through the plane of Limbo. It is primarily maintained by the strength of Oreko Seele's mind (see details of how in the Manual of the Planes). Within his various students and acolytes train with him to prefect their minds as well. I like to think of the place as an eastern monastery as popularly depicted in anime and other media. There is a main temple along with various other buildings (namely a forge, outbuildings, meditation shrines, ect.). Feel free to add your own bits of flair and twists in your individual posts but keep the over all aesthetic in mind.

The Gith'Zerai are friendly towards you and Oreko sees you as valuable allies. Regardless due to their training and the need of the plane all of the Gith are rather cold and aloof. When they manipulate the plane, imagine that they are bending (as in the Avatar: The Last Airbender TV show).

[Eric Scott]

Titan stands off to the side, silent and still as a statue, watching the Gith sparring. Completely unfazed by the Dwarf's outburst, and lacking any directive.

[BelGareth]

It was the morning, and Beargrom awoke before most, well, before most of his team, the Monastery was another story, acolytes regularly were up and about at all times of day, especially in the dayless limbo, still Abbott Oreko did his best with a simulacrum of a sun, allowing some normalcy to be had for those who needed it.

He bent down next to his cot, kneeled upon the rough hewn stone and opened his blessed book.


1. It is I Ferrante who is writing in this book, in hopes that my lessons and road shall encourage, and enlighten others along the way. As it is written in the codex of Analects, '27th Analect, Embolden the way for others, so that they may shine their light upon the world, and add it to your own, so your own light will be brighter for it.'
My father emplored me to leave, having been of noble stature and birth, we were of lowly wealth, but even yet, he saved and by a chance, I was admitted to the cathedral of the village, evenso, i was to be a servant amongst the holy men, and I did accept it with all my heart.

2. Having lost my belongings, and saying goodbye to my family, even my dear sister, I empowered my soul to do what was needed, so that I could better myself, better my surroundings, and better the world. It was a noble gesture of good will from a poor boy, but evenstill, it was found to be heard across the multitude of planes by the ever loving and most Honorable of beings, by the Great Lord himself, the Great Epitome of Honor, the Invincible Heironeous.

3. It was that night, in the still of the evening, when all had gone to bed, that I heard it, for the presence of thy Lord God's spirit was overwhelming, I feared I was hallucinating, but I knew the truth, and trembled as a mortal boy could in my bed, stumbling, I did prostate my self upon the hard floor, that my knees hurt, and my head scratch the floor.

Bear looked up from his book, hearing the dwarf yelling again, probably berating some more of the Gith, he frowned, his personal center had vanished, the spirit of the text as well. He closed the book gently, marking with a colorful cloth near the spine of the book where he was for next time. He was ready to berate the dwarf himself, for he surely distracted the Abbott, but an Analect came to mind.

13th Analect, For those who seek to own beauty, will be owned themselves.

It was a favorite of his, and stood for a great many meanings, his old Archdiocese had told him it was about turning the other cheek, and being the better person, but every time after that, he managed to forage a new meaning out of it, and when asked why that was, he replied with "Thats why it's such a great one, it means something different each time you need it!"

He smiled a fond smile as he stood up from his knees, dusting them off, and making sure his attire was appropriate, he did not wear his armor, as was usual, it was neatly resting on the wooden mannequin that held them when not in use. His glaive rested on its mount on the wall, the only thing on him was his throwing axe, and that was just in case. Moving to the door, he went outside to meet the dwarf, and prepared an appropriately admonishing analect, having already forgotten his own.

He stood in the courtyard, nodded to the giant, and aptly named, Titan, who was sitting like a dog awaiting a command. He found it strange sometimes, he'd tried to get some conversation out of the construct, but it was hard, he put it up to lack of 'something up there', but he wasn't too sure, either way, he wasn't going to stop trying, but not now, another time perhaps. He looked for the dwarf, and did not find him, but heard him talking about an adamantine shipment. Probably not a good time to admonish a dwarf. But when was there?

He smiled to himself as he looked onwards to the Abbott, appreciating the Gith not for the first, or last time. It was because of him, his ability, and sheer will power that they were here at all. The Pheasant and Greystone had both tried to explain it to him, but he just couldn't grasp it, he did understand will power, and that always seemed to be the crux of the conversation, this Gith, had it in droves. He was the Abbott.

Speaking of which, where was everyone else. He thought, looking around.

[Dimers]

The Pheasant rounds a corner -- walking, unlike so many of the githzerai -- just in time to see the apprentices' expulsion. He laughs cheerfully at the lack of expression on their faces. "Like a cat that failed a jump. Huh! That's what this monastery is missing -- a cat! Guess that's a consequence of not having any mice you don't conjure yourself."

He spies Beargrom and walks in his direction. "Good morning, sir. You look well." The demonhunter is faring better himself, the marks from the beholders' vile eye rays healing quickly under the tender ministrations of the Temple healer. That ancient gith woman can't be convinced to explain her methods to sapients who were not of The People, but she is able to harness her patients' belief toward curing them of all manner of ills. "I may laugh, but I have to admit, I'd give a lot for the equanimity shown by even the lowliest apprentice here. It's so ... healthy. And it can't be easy to maintain in the face of a furious dwarf. What had Kargarm so upset this time?"

[CozJa]

The blow comes from his right, at around thirty five degrees of inclination toward his elbow. Easy to block. After this, Greystone hits the ectoplasmic creature with a sequence of blows, grapples it and turns it around, sending it to fly against the other one, while the third attacks him from below. Easy to block, but a loud rumor, like doors banging, distracts him for a brief moment, and the creature is able to uppercut the warforged; the blow makes a scratching noise, as the formless ectoplasmic substance covering Greystone is blown to pieces by the ectoplasmic fist, sending him flying toward the endless ceiling.

"That must be the dwarf, or a Slaadi invasion. But Slaadi don't shout."

Stopping himself, Greystone wills a door out of the formless void where he stands, and step out of his training rooms. At times, he's still not sure of how Oreko exactly was able to fixate this place out of Greystone mind: a place carved out from limbo, but still following its rules, where directions are non-existant, and where he can freely expend his psionic power without losing it, but he still remembers the Abbot's words, at least his version of them: "Remember, Greystone, if you want to bring your art at the greatest peaks, you must be able to see forms where form is negated. bringing order out of chaos is the trueless form of creation."

Reflecting on his work until now, and to how he needs to be able to fend off every attack even when surprised, the mystical warforged seeks his companions, and join them, trying one of his many tentative approaches at humor. "I feared a Slaadi invasion, but realized they would be quieter than Kargram"

[Starbuck_II]

Barney was doing his usual training regiment. This time it was flying high in the air above the fortress while shadowing fighting. Now as shadows mimic your every deed it is hard indeed to block their blows. But with Barney's speed and skill even that was possible.

Barney could hear shouting, he stopped, wiped sweat from his brow, and then glided gently down back at the fortress.

"So, was this an invasion or just those gith causing trouble, " Barney said to no one in particular.
Looking around, he eventually ran into Titan while looking for the others.

"How's it going friend, doing good? "

[Eric Scott]

Titan looks at Barney for second then returns it's gaze to the sparring Gith. Still operational. You?

[Postmodernist]

Reclin was unhappy. He stumbled in from the resting quarters, his rest disturbed by the commotion in the monastery yard. His head ached from drinking too much Acheronian razorwine the evening before, and he'd nearly bubbed 'til the pitcher was empty. "Will you sodding berks keep it down? A body can hardly kip a moment's rest!" he shouted to the assemblage.

Ugh. Limbo, he thought to himself. the only plane more boring than being becalmed on the Astral Sea. For perhaps the hundredth time since joining the Maggots, he wished he were back in command of the Deus Ex Machina, nicking riches and spending them in a Sigil brothel. Nine Hells, Reclin would have settled for a planar sextant, or even an obsidian steed, anything to get him back in the game and living the freewheeling lifestyle he'd lost.

He glanced around the grounds, watching the Abbot and the githzerai dust themselves off. A tedious lot, all training and meditation, barely able to conjure up a worthwhile conversation or spin a tale over a dram of Elysian absinthe. Still, they'd treated the party well, and were honorable to a fault. They just weren't any fun.

Speaking of no fun, he spotted Beargrom and Titan. Fearsome warriors, both, though one was stiffer than an iron golem and the other probably was an iron golem. He'd seen Titan trample a salamander, and Beargrom have cut a beholder asunder in midair, though. All things considered, he'd rather have them on his side. Plus, Beargrom had given him a chance when he was destitute and in need of work. Without the mineral warrior, he'd likely still be hiding from The Planar Trade Consortium. Limbo was dull, but it was safe.

Greystone was nearly the opposite of his construct brother in terms of his capacity to speak on a wide array of subjects, though Reclin found him nearly as dour. The creature was fascinating, but strange, and a bit standoffish. He'd traveled the Astral Plane, perhaps for even longer than Reclin had, and Reclin felt as though he'd been doing that since before there were tieflings. More to the point, he could turn a berk into solid crystal with a sodding thought, which was one of the most impressive and terrifying things Reclin had ever borne witness to.

Reclin spied The Pheasant and Barney congregating with the rest of the "Guardians of the Valiant." The two had apparently worked together on some sort of investigation, though Reclin only heard the barest of details about it. At least those two could carry on a conversation Barney was a bit unnerving at times, and Reclin had overheard something about his cultish origins. The planar corsair had never seen a Celestial type skulk about as much, especially one as righteously inclined, but at least he chat to pass the interminable time here in Limbo. The Pheasant was a strange bird himself, but so irrepressibly charming, Reclin couldn't stop himself from enjoying his company. The two had similar backgrounds, and were both self-made men, more or less. And the only true humans in the bunch. Reclin had chosen a less academic path, and undoubtedly a more self-serving one, but the blond witch hunter was fiercely opinionated, which made him a fine interlocutor.

"You drank too much last night. Again." hissed Szip, Reclin's imp familiar. "I remember you drank too much when the crew left you for dead near the City of Brass.
The rakshasa bosun didn't even have to knock you out when..."

"Szip, I liked you more when you were invisible. And silent. My head is aching. Do be a good familiar and sod off for bit. Better yet, bring me some water. I'll need it if I'm not going to dry out like a dust mephit." The imp faded from view, scurrying off to serve his master.

Reclin strode up to the rest of the group, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Good to see Kargram is still in a fine mood. What do you lot reckon is hotter, his forge or his temper?"

[Dimers]

The mystical warforged seeks his companions, and join them, trying one of his many tentative approaches at humor. "I feared a Slaadi invasion, but realized they would be quieter than Kargarm."

"Hah! Yes, though if it were an invasion, our hosts might join in the noisemaking. Spend some of the meager savings from their vocalization bank."


Reclin strode up to the rest of the group, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Good to see Kargram is still in a fine mood. What do you lot reckon is hotter, his forge or his temper?"

"Temper, no question. That old boy doesn't need fire in his craft, he can just glare and snarl at the iron and it goes 'eek!' and shapes itself how he likes." The Pheasant seems to be in a playful mood, ready to skewer any target's nonsense. Though as usual, he seems more satisfied with silence and respect when he faces Beargrom. Judging from how they have acted in the recent crusade, the Pheasant seems to strive toward something immaterial that the stony warrior achieves.

[PallentisLunam]

As the Gith'Zerai go about their business, sparring, meditating, cleaning, and all the various other tasks associated with keeping the monastery running, and the Guardians of the Valiant assemble, the riotous explosion of chaos that is Limbo writhes overhead. It is by parts beautiful, terrifying, and utterly befuddling all in turn. Without a mind to guide it the matter of the plane forms into various arrangements both simple and complex.

The kaleidoscope twirls endlessly overhead in a cosmic dance with no rhythm or steps. A body of water slams into a rolling ball of magma instantly vaporizing into a cloud of steam through which a blazing patch of sky shines to create a rainbow whose colors are out of order. A great boulder weathers away to dust in an instant and from the dust grows a strange blue orange plant thing which seems to devour the rainbow, only to be lit afire by the light which fed the rainbow. The plant burns with a flame that starts purple and fades to black until it is impossible to tell flame from smoke. Then the tendrils of smoke twist and pull together until it seems that dozens of diamonds twinkle softly overhead.

And all of this is just one corner of the "sky" as it is over the Crystal Hold. Occasionally the chaos presses closer to the domain of the monastery and is forced back. Rocks and oceans and flames, all in turn, come streaking towards the island of calm only to be intercepted by other bits of Limbo or be repulsed at the last moment. Even with the calm that the Gith'Zerai exude, or perhaps because of it, it feels as though the monastery is balanced just on the rim of madness.

My situation seems to have stabilized, so feel no need to wait on me if there's something you would like to do.

Alternatively, I'm happy to let the party continue to interact among themselves and developing more about the relationships between characters :smallbiggrin:

[BelGareth]

Bear looks as each member was seemingly aroused from their activities, and came into view one at a time, each seeing Titan, and greeting him. He smiled, they formed a ragtag team, but they could be effective, each in their own way.

He nodded greeting to those who caught his eyes, standing relaxed in the court yard room, his gaze moved upwards to the chaos of Limbo itself, and once again, he marveled at the will power of the Abbott, who was able to maintain this little island of Law amongst the roiling chaos outside.

Staring into the abyss of Limbo itself gave him indigestion, turned his stomach into knots. It just...felt wrong. It was counter to all he was, and all he believed. No wonder he liked this place, not so much the outside, and he avoided staring too much, beyond the veil of the monastery.

"No invasion my friends, the great smith Kargam is in a foul mood it would seem, perhaps we can cheer his spirits this day?" He spoke to no one in particular as he moved towards the door the dwarf has slammed, seeking him out. Perhaps a request for some work might calm his mind? he thought to himself as he followed the cursing and bellowing of the dwarf.

"MASTER KARGAM" he bellows out as he moves inside, getting the dwarves attention, or trying to, it was hard to outshout an angry dwarf, and this old coot was no exception, sometimes, bear thought the dwarfs magic with crafting was half shouting.

[Starbuck_II]

Titan looks at Barney for second then returns it's gaze to the sparring Gith. Still operational. You?

"Well, there is a creek in his left shoulder, but that will go away. Be seeing you later."



Reclin strode up to the rest of the group, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Good to see Kargram is still in a fine mood. What do you lot reckon is hotter, his forge or his temper?"


"Oh, his forge wishes it was burning as hot. Kargram makes the finest gear, but he needs to learn patience. Or train his Gith friends better. Still can't believe he wasn't mauled them with his anger."
Barney said contemplating the situation.

[CozJa]

Looking around as all the group is assembling, Greystone remembers something he heard from a sculptor he met years ago in a far away village, some Psim, or Primm, he can't remember names very well, not as much as words, at least. He told him that every act of art was a mirror in the very nature of reality, capable of bringing out some rarely observed angle of what we see and live.
Looking at his companions, a so different group of people put together in the most unexpected way, but still capable of working together and overcoming obstacles as a single, voctorious, entity, reminds him of Limbo, and the very monastery they are living in now: a splendid metaphor of order brought out from chaos, from the most improbably divisive and wild chaos!
"I'll tell them of how I see us, but probably another time." he thinks, following Beargrom head as he shouts to the dwarf armorer.

"A good idea, I'm still thinking he may be able to improve my plating, but I'm not sure I want to spend time in a room alone with Kargam and his hammer."

[PallentisLunam]

The heat inside the forge is sweltering. The building's think stone walls allow none of it to escape except high above through the thin, overhung apertures in the roof designed to keep the place free of choking smoke. The Gith'Zerai apprentices working here under Kargarm's watchful eyes and skillful guidance are stripped to the waist and their yellow-orange skin glistens with sweat. Even the light robes that the ascetics normally wear would be stifling in the heat.

The space itself at first glance would appear to be a cluttered mess with tools and half wrought bits of craftsmanship scattered about on every surface. But a closer inspection reveals that every tool is carefully laid and each project is precisely governed. Despite appearances there is not a single item that is not exactly as Kargarm wishes it to be. And at the moment the master himself is living up to Bear's suspicions.

The aged dwarf is bent over a thin strut of metal, with his fiery beard slung over his shoulder, and he is carefully and laboriously drawing out and then twisting the cherry red strut. Of course while he is doing this he is also bellowing at an apprentice two tables over, calling for more heat to be summoned in the forge, cursing at the strut itself, and, explaining to a monk at his elbow what it is he is doing.

When Bear calls his name Kargarm looks up the heat of the metal reflected in his clear blueish-grey eyes. Handing the tongs to his assistant Kargarm tells him to keep on. "Don let it get too hot. T'll lose shape and be worthless," he growls glaring at his pupil. The old artificer then turns and hobbles towards Beargrom. His gait is pained and uneven, a souvenir of his time under the salamanders. "'Choo want, sha?" he asks Bear his demeanor taking on an aspect of grandfatherlyness as he adresses the paladin, cantankerous and no nonsense grandfatherlyness, but kind and familial nonetheless.

[BelGareth]

Bear smiled as he surveyed the scene before him, it was chaos, true, but organized chaos, which is something he could relate. He heard Greystone follow him, and nodded silently to the construct as he did so, turning his head slightly to indicate his acknowledgement.

He thought of an analect, one that was about disturbing an angry dwarf, something about not to do so. But he thought about more out of amusement than anything, yes, this particular dwarf was angry, but he was also kin to Bear, having saved the man from the dereliction's of the Evil Salamanders, there was a bond that broached the racial boundaries they had, and he used it now, as his mantle against the smithies wrath for prying to deep.

Smiling he nodded as he spoke "I was going to ask you the same thing Master Dwarf." in a knowing way, bound to make anyone who was angry, angrier, because they knew what he meant.

"Perhaps you can join me for some brew, I'm sure the Pheasant and Reclin haven't drank it all" he continues, with a warm smile of understanding. "Then, and I am aware this is un-dwarf like, you can tell me what is wrong." it was more like a command and less a suggestion, like that of a grandson to his ailed grandfather, even still, the invitation to drink should loosen the invitation somewhat.

[PallentisLunam]

Kargarm waves a dismissive hand at Bear. "Pshaw! Go have a drink while these ijits have the run of my forge? Get on!" The dwarf begins to turn away but then he notices the look in Beargrom's eye and gives an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, if ya won let this be I'll come share a drink with ya. Get on and gather the rest. I'm sure you'll get 'em mixed up in this too." Kargarm gestures to the door and turns back to bark and growl a last few orders and threats at both the Gith and his projects.

Not long later Kargarm appears in the dinning hall where Bear, and anyone one else who wanted to hear the old smith out, are waiting. Firebrow removes the leather strap that serves to keep his hair out of his eyes and to catch his sweat and lays it on the table beside his place as he sits down. He accepts a tankard from Bear and polishes it off in one go, taking another before he begins his story. "I've been swindled, sha," he says with a growl. "Paid good craft for a shipment of mountain's seed from an efreeti in Rigus, and its more than two weeks late. Least ways I think it is... Damn this place and its infernal lack o' proper stone. Back home I could tell day 'n night jes by layin hands on the wall of a cave. Seasons too! I swear, there's nothing to this place, jus the Abbott's damned will." The air grows warmer as Kargarm speaks, his frustration literally rolling off of him in waves of heat. Mountain's seed is a reference to a very old dwarvish legend that tells of how the gods grew mountains out of seeds of adamantine, just like oaks are grown out of acorns. "Bah, some days I wish ya hadn't saved me, sha. A'least back then these things were other folks headaches," Kargarm says with a wry smile and takes another swig of brew.

[Dimers]

"Perhaps you can join me for some brew, I'm sure the Pheasant and Reclin haven't drank it all"

"Heh, no, and not for lack of opportunity," pipes up the Pheasant from the entryway. He strides in looking eager. "Gotta save my trade value for the master's goods. Are the--"


"Fine, if ya won let this be I'll come share a drink with ya. Get on and gather the rest. I'm sure you'll get 'em mixed up in this too."

"They're just outside, Mastermaker. Your explosion broke up a three-day streak of sheer boredom. We all came hoping for some trouble." Pheasant's impish smile shows that he's taking the situation lightly, and he falls in place behind the more serious pair on the way to the dining hall.

The human does enjoy a strong drink now and again, but supping from his Horn of Plenty erodes the attraction that alcohol holds. The Horn's own drink is refreshing and heartening but doesn't sicken the guts, and anyway, it's impossible to get drunk for quite a few hours before the magic wears off. A blessing or a curse, depending on where you stand.

Listening to Kargarm's troubles, the Pheasant holds back his query about the recently commissioned rings. Soon enough, soon enough.

[Eric Scott]

Titan follows silently, other than the occasional cracking of the ground below foot and knuckles, to the dinning hall, a place Titan has only been to twice before, and listens intently to the dwarf's problem. Collect misplaced material? Titan says with a cocked head.

[CozJa]

Entering Kargarm forge always brings up strange sensations to Greystone: it's like peering into a stream of reminiscenses all tied together so tightly that none of them is clearly aviable, but all of them are present nonetheless; with them, a feeling comes, like revisiting the places of his infancy, if such a thing exist for warforged: the heat of the fire, the clanging of the hammer onto the anvil, the scent of burned carbon and metal, the heavy air that makes everything look diluted... all those sensations act together to distract the psion, as he tries to grasp one thing missing from his memory, a glimpse of something he hasn't got a single clue: the source of his mental powers.
As Beargrom and the dwarf discuss, Greystone follows them as much as possible, somewhat lost in his thoughts, and is relieved (but somewhat saddened) to leave the place when the group decides to look for another drink.

When they are all sitting down, looking at each other and their glasses, Greystone consumes a couple of different drinks, one coming from a far away place called Mt. Celestia, the "Blissful Dominion", while the other is an ale distilled by the Azer dwarves. Warforged cannot be intoxicated, but they still have the ability to "taste", for some strange reason, and Greystone is always happy to take advantage of this, trying every substance he can get his hands on, to discover what he really likes.

"So, are we supposed to act as a multiverse delivery service?" He asks to the Dwarf, then answering to his last remark "I'm sure we can bring you back to the Salamanders, if you really want so." He tries to smile, but facial expressions are not part of the warforged typical package, at least not recognizable facial expressions.

[BelGareth]

Bear was smiling.

On the inside.

Never smile when sitting with an angry dwarf you are attempting to console. It wasn't an analect, but it should be, definitely a life lesson.

Words to live by.

He listened as the dwarf told them of his woes, and to his surprise, his companions chimed in. He was about to respond in kind when Greystone made jest of the dwarfs plight, as if it were a joking matter. He turned and his mouth opened ajar, hung like a door swinging in the breeze.

Shaking himself awake, he turned back to the dwarf, "Perhaps we can." he admitted, "We're all feeling cooped up here anyway, and a shipment the likes you are talking about is not cheap, whoever stole it must be either stupid, or stupidly powerful."

[PallentisLunam]

Kargarm fixes Greystone with a flinty glare. A spark of razor sharp wit dances in his eyes as he speaks, "Ya know, there are days that I feel self conscious about my desires to figure out how you and Titan tick. And then there are days when I would love to open you up and see. Can you guess what kind of day it is?" While the words are harsh they are said with the same tenor of a parent threatening to damage an unruly but well loved child.

"It's true some of ya've said more than once that you're bored to tears here. Either way, it's my money says I'll never see that shipment or my craft that paid for it, but if you've got nothing better to do you can go ask questions. Even powerful genies are forced to treat adventurers with respect." Kargarm looks around at the collected faces, mortal and machine alike, and sighs. "For the days when I could settle such things for myself," He says aloud stroking his beard. "The bastard's name is Varachus. He is a merchant, of sorts, who makes his home in the Outlands. Why he chose to cheat me I have no idea."

[Eric Scott]

Titan nods, then scans across everyone present. "Objective parameters?"

[Dimers]

The Pheasant listens intently to the mastersmith's words, smiling briefly at the mention of boredom.


Titan nods, then scans across everyone present. "Objective parameters?"

"Yes ... among other things, where in the Outlands? Not that 'where' has such a reliable meaning there. Do you know the route the shipment was taking?"

My character probably knows much more than I do about this topic. Knowledge (the planes): [roll0]

[Starbuck_II]

"How long have you known this, Varachus?", Barney wondered.
"Did you have past dealings with him that may have ended on wrong foot?"

[BelGareth]

Bear listens as before, as he usually does. Everyone knows, when bear speaks, its because he's weighed all his options, and is speaking only because it is needed.

He nods sagely, as if taking everything in, and indeed, that was what he was doing. The group had been happy to have some down time, especially after rescuing Kargam, but they were getting cooped up, and this Limbo...was not a place that Bear liked much, or at all. He preferred solid ground below him, not a sea of chaos.

He smiled with his towards the dwarf, a reassuring smile between friends, and associates a like, he hoped the dwarf wouldn't take it the wrong way, for they were eerily similar in disposition, except, when the dwarf lost his temper.

He nodded at Barney and Pheasant's questions. Good questions.

"Indeed, knowing exactly where will be important, but I'm sure the fine minds of my companions will be up to the task." he turns to them "I am no learn'ed scholar, what can you tell me of Efreeti and their kin? I know evil when I hear it, but I have no more information than a layman knows about his Lord and Savior."

Turning back to Kargam, he nods "We'll take care of this for you, and recover your debt as well, the planes have laws just as well as everywhere else." he says with grim determination, then downs his tankard, slamming it on the table, as if the decision had been made.

[PallentisLunam]

"Yes ... among other things, where in the Outlands? Not that 'where' has such a reliable meaning there. Do you know the route the shipment was taking?"

"I figured it would go from Rigus to Xaos and then find its way here. But my payment made the details Varachus' problem so I didn't pay them much mind."


"How long have you known this, Varachus?", Barney wondered.
"Did you have past dealings with him that may have ended on wrong foot?"

"He helped supply the salamanders that you lot rescued me from. Made several offers to buy my freedom in exchange for a few decades of service. I always turned him down. Never liked him, but he seemed honorable enough. I never thought he would cheat me. Bad for business."


Turning to Bear Kargarm reaches out and knocks his tankard on its side. It is one of the odder dwarvish customs, performed only by close friends, kind of like a clap on the arm and a handshake rolled into one. A sign of gratitude and the sealing of a deal. "It's good ta have family again," the old dwarf says glancing around at everyone.

[Dimers]

"It's good ta have family again," the old dwarf says glancing around at everyone.

The Pheasant blushes slightly as he turns down his head and smiles. Any words from him would sully the moment, but his body language says his heart is warmed with something much stronger than whiskey.

[Starbuck_II]

Turning to Bear Kargarm reaches out and knocks his tankard on its side. It is one of the odder dwarvish customs, performed only by close friends, kind of like a clap on the arm and a handshake rolled into one. A sign of gratitude and the sealing of a deal. "It's good ta have family again," the old dwarf says glancing around at everyone.

Barney said aloud, "To family!"

Waiting for a brief moment, "On another note, should we visit Varachus now?"

[Postmodernist]

Reclin was sullen and silent during much of the conversation, slaking his thirst with several tankards of Blissful Dominion. He tried not to roll his eyes at Kargarm. Efreeti aren't genies. That forge has cooked his brains. he thought to himself. Wait, yes they are. I thought he said "djinn." Swob me bob, this is good stuff. His brain finally kickstarted, he began putting the pieces in place.

He wiped his chin with his sleeve, before finally speaking up. "'ats definitely odd. Efreeti are right bastards, but they tend to be honorable ones, near to a fault. City o' Brass wouldn't be the charming place it is without that lot at least honoring contracts. I don't know this Varachus, and I'm disinclined to defend one of those brimstone billowing blowhards, but do you reckon there are any other possibilities about what happened to your shipment?
Aye, he may have cheated you, but he might be dead or robbed himself. Given my," Reclin cast a quick glance Beargrom, "former profession, I know the planes are riddled with berks looking to make a quick copper, even if it means incurring the ire of the angriest dwarf ever to swing a hammer, save perhaps Gendwar Argrim." Reclin cast a mirthful grin and a wink at Kargarm, elbowing Titan in the "ribs" as he did so. He grimaced slightly as his effort failed to have the intended effect, rubbed his elbow with his free hand, and took another swig of ale.

"As for this little 'family' paying him a visit, I've been been nearly mad with boredom the past few... however long we've been here. I'd be up to go nearly anywhere to gawk at something other than floating nonsense and sallow-skinned Githzaerai." He looked around at each of his companions for a moment, before continuing. "Lads, if'n we are a family, given the variety seated at this table, I'd wager our mum is likely the randiest jinkskirt who's ever peeled a gully!"

[PallentisLunam]

Kargarm rolls his eyes at Reclin's humor but smiles in spite of himself quickly covering it with a glower. "Don't worry, sha, you're adopted, he says trying to be stern by his mask cracks on the last word and his mouth turns ever so slightly up at the corners. "But, I suppose you're right. I don't really know that Varachus has cheated me. I just know that he has my craft and I have no adamantine."

I'm happy to continue the role-play if people are enjoying it, or we can begin discussing how you will travel to the outlands, or anywhere else for that matter.

[BelGareth]

Bear watched the gnarly dwarf reach over and perform the dwarf custom and smiled deeply, like that of a stony valley side taking a deep breath.

He nodded as everyone chimed in, the thought provoking act of a dwarf engaging them into what had been unspoken before, how strange it is to see such things evolve out of chaos, the normalcy of family, the unit, the dependency therein, it binds us all, gives us all purpose.

He ket on smiling as everyone talked.

"Why not take the evening to drink one last time together before we leave?" bear suggest, and then turns to the Pheasant and Greystone, and hell, even Reclin "How do we get there from here?"

[Postmodernist]

Reclin grinned at Kargarm's jibe, feeling the sensation of bonhomie return to him for perhaps the first time since they arrived. He clinked mugs with everyone at the table, pleased to be leaving.

"If I still had the Deus, I'd have user her planar helm to make the shift. There's other magic, both spells and items, that can do it, and some strange creatures as well. Rigus is in the Outlands, which is one of the stabler spots in the Planes. We could try and find a portal here, maybe with some a clever divination or two, but such things are rather iffy in Limbo, ever-changing chaos that it is. The Githzerai might know better, since navigating this place is their expertise. We could go hunting ether scarabs, but the little bastards are hard to catch, and unpredictable in where they jaunt off to. Anyway, the easiest way is the spell, which I have yet to master."

[Dimers]

The Pheasant finishes a satisfying celebratory draught and chimes in, "I could search my atlas and hope for a lucky mention, but I'd bet we're going to need help from Oreko's folk. They've done a fine job with interplanar logistics so far. A normal trip to a gate town should be child's play for them." He coughs and adds sotto voce, "And goodness knows, playtime would do them good."

[CozJa]

Greystone looks around with appreciation: even counting all their differences (not last of them, the fact that he is actually happy to stay in Limbo) his friends and him are really molding into something... different; like a group, but probably more. After all, they are slowly developing from a simple aggregate of different people in something more advanced and functional... they may really be maggots, in a pretty peculiar way.

When Bear asks for a useful way of reaching the Outlands, the warforged concurs with the Pheasant and Reclin considerations.

"Joining an Astral Caravan of our hosts would be the more appropriate choice. I'm not an expert in extraplanar Psychoportation, but I'm sure Grandmaster Oreko can arrange something for us. If we are on the good side of the multiverse, we may even end up exactly where we want to go."

[PallentisLunam]

The abbot walks into the dining hall his hands tucked into his sleeves and his long mustaches twitching. "I was disturbed in my exercises by a sneeze. I can only imagine that I was being discussed by our Guardians. Is there any service I might render?" Oreko stands stiffly at the end of the table. His manner is one of absolute propriety and his expression is one of genuine sincerity.

[BelGareth]

Bears nods and smiles to the Abbott, he took the Gith very seriously, and was gracious of their allowances, such as they were.

"Indeed, good Abbott." he replied "We were discussing ways to travel to..." he looked around, as if dredging his memory for the location "...the Outlands?" he says, almost asking and less stating. Perhaps this alcoholic beverage he was drinking was too powerful, what was it called? Baartorian Mead, Nessian Ale, Stygian Jin?

He looked at it, and pushed the drink gently away from him an inch or two.

Perhaps it was time to make a new vow of abstinence? he mused to himself

[PallentisLunam]

"A simple enough request," the abbot says with a sagely nod. "There are several ways I could transport you and your allies to the Outlands, but where exactly on that vast plane are you bound?"

[Dimers]

"We need to begin in Rigus, Your Honor." As much as he thinks the monastery would benefit from cheerful chaos, the Pheasant isn't one to deny respect to those who have earned it.

[PallentisLunam]

"This can be done. When will you be leaving us? I have it in my power to transport you within the hour if you wish."

[BelGareth]

Bear waits for a split moment, but no answers are forthcoming. He nods to the abbot, "In the morning my Good Abbott, I believe my friends would like to prepare for the travel?" he says, finishing it as a question and looking to them, he meant spells, but it could have easily been code for 'drinking'.

"We are forever grateful for your hospitality." he finishes, knowing, that the Gith had been, and were still, cordial for allowing them hospice.


Lets kick this thing off.

[Eric Scott]

Titan having been silent for a bit speaks. "I am prepared."

Titan then looks to Kargarm and the Abbot, "Do you have any need of me until the others are prepared?" Titan asks with a cocked head.

[Dimers]

"The Pheasant is ready to fly," the demonhunter replies with a smile. "Now or after another rest, all the same to me."

[Postmodernist]

Reclin took a final swig of the Bytopian ale. "I reckon I'd be good to move after a bit of shuteye.
I'm a bit indisposed toward interplanar travel at this particular moment."

[CozJa]

"I suppose we may have some use for a little more time to prepare and buying something more akin to Rigus environment..."
The warforged looks around, observing his friends "... but rushing into action is more our style: I'm ready to depart when you're ready"

[BelGareth]

Bear looks around, he was a little surprised. "Well..." he said, I would need to get dressed, standing up to call his armor. He could call both at a moments notice, and his weapons never left him. Thought, he would need to travel to his room to grab his adventuring satchel, it was a new one that Kargam had gifted to him, it was bigger on the inside he said.

[Dimers]

"Reclin's entirely reasonable appreciation for sleep aside, there is one thing I should wrap up before departing," says the Pheasant with a secretive smile. "If you finished that last request of mine, Kargarm, you old wonderworker you ..."

Referring to the spellguard rings.

[PallentisLunam]

Kargarm smacks his forehead with a meaty hand. "Ha! I almost forgot! Go with the abbot. I'll run and grab your trinkets."

Out in the yard Oreko bids everyone to hold hands and be still. "I warn you, no matter what I do this manner of travel is rather imprecise. You may need to cover some distance yourselves when you arrive in the Outlands."

Kargarm comes hobbling out of his forge and presses the rings into the Pheasant's hand. "Here ya go, sha. And be careful all of you!" He steps back to watch the ritual. The other githzerai stop to observe as well. Oreko closes his eyes and even the chaos stuff seems to still for a moment to take in the scene. Then Oreko claps his hands and Limbo goes back to its mad swirlings. A rainbow starburst of light appears in the middle of Oreko's forehead and begins to swell. It dances and shimmers and as it grows it looks as though there in a tiny hole in the middle of it that does not reveal the abbot's yellow skin but instead depicts a scene of rolling meadows and blue skies. When Oreko lays his hand upon Beargrom's back the whole party feel suddenly weightless and the swirling chaos is sucked into a single point at the center of their circle of hands.

Even though there is not frame of reference in the dark void, as the party slips through the space between spaces everybody feels as if the ring formed by their hands and arms is slowly spinning. The sensation is almost peaceful for a moment before the point of chaos explodes back into reality, however it is no longer the everchanging madness of Limbo. Now it is in fact the beautiful rolling meadow complete with wild flowers and tall stalks of grass. Overhead a sunless and cloudless blue sky radiates a soft yet bright light. To the northwest a great spire pierces the sky. Despite its size it is clear that it is a great distance away.

You have been plane shifted to the Outlands.

[BelGareth]

Bear had armored up, it hadn’t taken long, a word and he was good to go, the others carried what they would with them, but he at least needed to grab his haversack. Once donned, he met them again, and the Abbott did his thing.

Bear had seen his fair share of inter dimensional travel, and he never did like it. This was a little different, but the outcome was the same, feet back on solid ground, he felt anchored again, just the way he liked it.

Surveying the scene, he looked all around like a good soldier, taking in the terrain, good vantage points, fields of fire, and avenues of approach, parts of him he couldn’t turn off if he tried. It was a nice place, for some reason he had thought the center of the cosmos would be…less so, he had been wrong before however.

Looking to the others, and flexing his glove, the one that contain his glaive, as if to make sure he was still wearing it, “Well, we’re here, but where is here?” He asks, “Or do we travel in a random direction and ask the first person we meet?”

[Eric Scott]

"Presumably, here is the Outlands." Titan says completely serious.

"I know nothing about The Planes. Greystone, Pheasant or Reclin might know something. Particularly Pheasant who has that map." Titan says, taking a seat on the ground.

[CozJa]

Greystone always loved interplanar travels: if it was for him, he'd expend some more time studying the secrets of Psionic teleportations, since an astral caravan is even better then the lighting rails of his old homeworld.
Even if the voyage is brief, the warforged takes care to remember every sensation he feels, to better use it later.

The place where they arrive is beautiful, and Greystone is tempted to stop by and manipulate some of the elements to leave an artistic trace of his passage but, sadly, this is not the time for sculpting. He notices the distant great spire, and appreciates its striking effect on the tranquil natural setting he finds himself in. As Bear and Titan return him to their goal, the warforged continues to look at the spire.

"So, what does the map say?"

[Dimers]

Coming out of the interplanar void, the Pheasant is gripping his allies' hands hard for balance. As physical reality comes back he drops to a crouch, dizzied by the effect due to his own beliefs about such magics, here in a world where belief creates reality.


“Well, we’re here, but where is here?” Bear asks, “Or do we travel in a random direction and ask the first person we meet?”


"I know nothing about The Planes. Greystone, Pheasant or Reclin might know something. Particularly Pheasant who has that map." Titan says, taking a seat on the ground.


Greystone continues to look at the spire. "So, what does the map say?"

After regaining his bearings, the young sorcerer takes in the local flora and fauna and searches the horizon for landmarks, factoring in what his self-drawing map has to say. He flips through a large softbound book a little dirty and worn from frequent use. "Hmm ... my best guess ..."

Guess that's a Knowledge:Planes roll. [roll0] including the atlas's bonus. I'm using my generous map to try to find landmarks, so if there's anything notable for ~50 miles, it might give that roll a circumstance bonus.

[Postmodernist]

Once the kaleidoscopic dynamism of the plane shift ended, Reclin leaned over and puked voluminously into a patch of Outlandish wildflowers. Szip materialized, floating just above his arched back, and cackled. After a few disturbing heaves, Reclin steadies himself and shoots a bleak glance at Szip, who promptly vanishes again.

"'s been a while since I've had to travel after bubbin' so much," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It shan't happen again, once I get me sea legs back under me." The knave looked about for a moment, taking note of the Spire in the distance, gesturing at it with his thumb.

"Well, at least we know nothing gets by Titan. We are, indeed, in the Outlands. The whole plane's a sort of ring, and Rigus is one of the cities that line its outer rim. If Pheasant's map can orient us, we might be able to navigate in the right direction. Of course, since the whole place is more or less a giant dinner plate, we could just walk away from the Spire, hit an edge, and take either a left or a right. Hardly the most efficient means of getting there, but we'd arrive at Rigus eventually. Probably." Reclin punctuated his exposition with a suppressed belch, and shook his head clear of the remaining disorientation.

[BelGareth]

Bear watches with a grimace as Reclin heaves the contents of his stomach onto the local wildlife. He instinctively tightened his fist, and almost went to lash out at Szip, smiting the little bastard where he hovered, but he held it back, and the little blighter popped out of existence.

He growled, "Perhaps if you were to get rid of that blasphemous thing you call a familiar, you might feel your self of sense return, and perhaps no more vomiting?"

The last part was a jest, which was uncommon for Bear, but you easily sense he was on edge seeing the little familiar, perhaps, shifting to a new plane and so readily seeing something that was intrinsically against his very being had put him on edge?

[PallentisLunam]

Pheasant's map quickly draws itself in, providing a full color aerial view of the surrounding features and a detailed legend describing all the planar traits of the area that the party finds itself in. It would seem that a couple dozen miles to the south the rolling meadow gives way to a dryer savanna with some sparse tree cover. To the north is a small river, hardly deserving of the name but nonetheless allowing for even more densely packed low vegetation. However neither of these details is particularly helpful as far as landmarks are concerned but that's where the legend comes in.

Pheasant reads that, in addition to the party experiencing normal gravity and an unaltered flow of time, magic is currently unimpeded. This, he deduces, means that the abbot's spell must have landed the party outside the ring of the gate towns where higher tier magics become difficult to invoke. Recalling the details of how the Outlands become rather unstable past the gate towns, Pheasant knows that the plane seems to want travelers to move back towards the spire, and so when coming in from the outside the distance to a gate town is always shorter that it "should" be. Also by some mechanism the nearest gate town is always directly between one's current location and the great spire.

[Dimers]

The Pheasant purses his lips and shakes his head as the imp's asinine antics interrupt his train of thought. He listens to Reclin's explanation, then adds, "The gate towns are along the outer 'edge' in at least one sense, but as far as I can tell, we've landed outside their ring. The Outlands like travelers to find a more sense-making location quickly, so we'll have a fair chance of stumbling across a gate town just by heading spireward. No telling which one, I have no details to work with. By map it won't be a quick trip, but ..." He shrugs. "Outlands."

The man stands, stretches and quickly pulls together his materials. "Beargrom, speaking of blasphemous creatures ... the people we meet might not look like people, and the monsters might not look like monsters. If we need to defend ourselves suddenly, I want you to have better treatment than I gave you when those gauth ambushed us a few weeks back." Looking sheepish, he draws from his belt pouch the rings Kargarm had passed along just before the planeshift, putting one on and proffering the other to the paladin. "Wearing this ring, you'll be no more harmed by my spells than I am."

[Eric Scott]

Titan certainly doesn't look it, but is impressed by the knowledge shown.

"Towards the spire? Won't be quick?... On it." Titan says with outstretched wings.

Titan than walks a little ways away and expands to be 48 ft tall, disturbing the ground underneath with the increased footprint and weight.
Titan then reaches one arm out to form a makeshift ramp to the back. "A better view from above."

[BelGareth]

Bear looks at Pheasant, and nods. He takes the proffered ring with two giant fingers. They were not Titan sized, that was Titan's area of expertise, but Bear was still a giant of a man, and for him to take something so delicately, cast his size as something normally taken for granted into contrast to his actions.

He nodded.

"Indeed, your...spells were helpful....but I believe this will let you be more....so." he simply says, a slight curve of a smile upon his stony visage.

He was still perturbed, and a joke was unbecoming, but he did have a sense of humor.

He nodded in appreciation to Titan. "That is a fine idea Titan, let us be off." and following his words with actions, he stepped up onto his friends makeshift ramp and settled in on his back.

[PallentisLunam]

The flatness of the plane is rather disconcerting when viewed from the height of Titan's much enhanced bulk. Whereas in the mortal world the land curves away towards the horizon here it simply stretches out nigh on endlessly, with vision only limited by the hazy air and the minute size of far distant objects. Grey, green, brown, and blue smudges are all that can be made out at the extreme edges of sight.

[Dimers]

Unable to see through Titan as he climbs, the Pheasant looks left and right as he climbs, appreciating the view. Then he glances down and sees something missing. "Huh, no tracks leading away. Barney, where are you?" He faces up the ramp and asks, "Did you already board?"

[PallentisLunam]

The only answer to Pheasant's call is a soft rustle of the tall grasses

[BelGareth]

Bear looks around with furrowed brows.

"Perhaps he took off to scout? It's not the first time he's taken off by himself. Perhaps he'll meet us further ahead?"

[Eric Scott]

Titan gives a cursory glance at the surroundings.

"He has proven to be capable of surviving, he should be fine. Or he may end up destroyed, as such is the often the fate of those who travel alone." Titan gives a slow shrug so as to not throw anyone around. "Neither is a problem."

[Postmodernist]

Reclin, his stomach still queasy from the plane shift, does not look eager to mount Titan. He rolled his eyes at Bear's diatribe. He thought to himself, Blasphemous thing. Ha. I don't recall you complaining when he blasted those salamanders with that wand of cone of cold we found. Don't you have an analect about gratitude somewhere in your little book?

As he unsteadily walked up Titan's arm, he asked Pheasant, "You think it's possible he din'nae make the shift? He might still be in Limbo, somehow. Typically, when things go pear-shaped in a planeshift, they go awry for everyone in the spell. I hope he is just scouting. Anyone know if he had other business in the Outlands?" A puzzled look passes across Reclin's face for a moment. "Wait, you don't reckon... Barney's a traitor?"

[Dimers]

As Reclin unsteadily walked up Titan's arm, he asked Pheasant, "You think it's possible he din'nae make the shift? He might still be in Limbo, somehow. Typically, when things go pear-shaped in a planeshift, they go awry for everyone in the spell."

The Pheasant considers the idea. "I did speak with one man who claimed two of his companions were separated by such a spell, but he was stoned on some sort of Arborean seed powder. I decided at the time that he was telling the tale of a hallucination he forgot wasn't real." He shrugs at Reclin's other suggestions. "Barney isn't exactly an open book, but he's seemed with us in every sense until now."

Securing himself at the dizzying height of Titan's shoulders, the demonhunter takes a moment to cast a spell before scanning the area again. Diplomatically ignoring Szip, he says, "Nothing invisible or ethereal in sight. I'll keep an eye out for him as we move. As you said, Bear, we can presume he's scouting ahead -- and if he wasn't here to begin with, well, us leaving would do him no harm."

I'll have see invisibility running for 2 hours and 20 minutes. I updated my character sheet.

[BelGareth]

Bear turns his head, peering at the tower in the strange flat, distance.

"Right then, off we go."

[Eric Scott]

With a flap of the wings, Titan lifts everyone into the air and towards the spire.

"This won't exactly be quick, as I will periodically need to repair from wear, but it is faster than walking and has better scouting potential."

Titan will fly 100ft from the ground and will hustle. Once at altitude, that's 120ft/round, 1200ft/minute, 12miles/hour. If we manage uninterrupted flight, Titan will take one round every 6 hours to fly only 60ft and activate the Psionic Repair Damage function, so as to be able to fly relatively quick almost nonstop.

[CozJa]

As the group of companions discuss the whereabout of Barney, Greystone adds his considerations.

"He is capable of traveling alone and unseen, and even of natural flight. It doesn't strike me as odd if he went by himself. But it does strike me as odd our loss of sight immediately after the astral voyage. As the Pheasant says, reports of missing travelers during planar teleportations are generally considered unproven by the major philosophical magic circles." The warforged pauses for a moment, adjusting himself on Titan's back.
"But there are more things on Celestia and Sigil there are dreamt in our philosophy."

While flying, Greystone manifest part of his psychic energy, I've decided to create a ecto-astral link with the consciousness of his psicrystal, giving him the ability to 'feel' the same negative sensations by means of a psycomethabolic alteration of the harmonic vibrations of our bodily manifestation. It's a new interesting practice I learnt about in a book about the Art of Psychic Warfare. An interesting read."
The Warforged shares his findings with his companions, knowing well that they seldom find interest in his endless musings about the nature of psychic powers. But as long as they are all riding on Titan, there isn't much choice on what to listen for.


That's it: casting Share Pain with the Psicrystal. 15 hours duration.

[PallentisLunam]

Titan launches into the air and beats his mighty wings. The great expanse of the Outlands stretches out below the party. Far in the distance a large hill rises up, crowned with dull grey battlements. It slowly crawls closer over the course of hours as the soft light of the sky begins to fade.

The city of Rigus is encircled by an enormous iron wall topped with powerful fortifications. Similar walls climb the mighty hill in concentric rings. The city seems more like a gigantic military encampment than anything else. On their approach the party can see squads of soldiers marching up and down the streets through ramshackle stalls set up by people who might, in any other circumstance, be camp followers. All manner of creatures roam through Rigus, humans, fiends, hobgoblins, dwarves, and many others.

Titan's arrival causes a bit of a stir in the city, with people stopping to stare and watchmen on the walls hurrying from their posts into the huge towers. Four soldiers, moving in tight formation, quick march down the hill with a fair-skinned officer trotting along in the lead. "State your business, in-worlders!" the officer calls out from a respectable distance as his men fan out behind him, readying spears and presenting shields. A device of a roaring red dragon with outstretched wings is wrought on the faces of the soldier's shields

[Eric Scott]

"Titan is a military construct, sir." Titan says with a salute before lowering the same arm for the makeshift ramp again.

[BelGareth]

Bear is impressed with the sites, as well as the battlements, and general order of things.

He watched numbly, not thinking much as they landed and then they were challenged, he frowned.

Not wanting to jump from the great height of Titan's back to the ground, he opted for shouting from where he was.

"Hail, we are newcomers to Rigus, looking for a merchant with the name of Varachus, he has cheated a friend of ours, and we would like words with him!" he looks back to the others, and then realizes with a scowl, perhaps they had violated a local law by landing directly inside the city.

He looks back to the officer "Ah...My apologies, should we have come through the gate?" he asks in all earnest.

[PallentisLunam]

Titan's response draws raised eyebrows from the soldiers and they exchange sidelong glances without breaking stance or formation. Whoever these men are they are well trained and confident in each other's abilities."It is the way most travelers choose to enter the city, yes," the officer answers Bear with the slightest hint of wry expression flickering across his dour, scarred features. Reaching a gauntleted hand into a low slung belt pouch he draws out several necklaces consisting of slate plaques affixed to iron chains. "As visitors to Rigus, you will each wear one of these. The city guard has better things to do than break up squabbles between merchant companies so I expect you will confine your dispute to words alone."

Looking more carefully now at the party as he waits for them to dismount and claim their visitor's badges the officer sizes everyone up. His eyes narrow when they alight upon Reclin and he glances up at the invisible Szip. "Illusion magic of any kind is strictly forbidden in the market district, and any transgressions of the law will be punished severely," he says with a slight sneer.

[Dimers]

The Pheasant is pleased by the anti-illusion rule but doesn't comment on it. On the other hand, before accepting the iron pendant he asks, "Is this a magical enforcement or simply a symbol? And may I see for myself?" A strange bird, that Pheasant, being an anti-magical magician.

I'll cast detect magic if that doesn't seem like it'd upset the soldiers. Spellcraft for further info: [roll0]

Also, I don't recall whether disobedience is an Illusion spell ... if so, the character is gonna be rather disgruntled. I'll look it up when I'm home. EDIT: nope, it's Abjuration.

[BelGareth]

As bear makes his way down, off of Titan, he nods in slight embarrassment.

"My apologies, I would never intentionally break any law." He nods at the illusion remark "Of course, he will be visible at all times, I assure you." he glances back to where ever he thought the little imp was.

Taking a pendant with a tilt of his head he continues "We will confine ourselves as model citizens, you have my word, I am Beargrom, Paladin of the Most Honorable and Invincible Heironeous. And these..." he motions to his companions "are my companions. You have my thanks..." he awaits the name of the officer.


Do these pendants take up a slot?

[Postmodernist]

"Szip, you're to be on your best behavior while we're guests here," Reclin says. The imp reluctantly re-materializes, finding purchase on Reclin's shoulder.

"What about you, are you gonna be on your best behavior?" the creature muttered, sulkily scratching under his chin with his barbed tail.

Reclin glances at the slate and iron pendants with a slight grimace. "Have you nothing more stylish?" He shrugged, and tried to recall if he'd broken any other laws in Rigus the last time he was here.

Knowledge: The Planes - [roll0] General knowledge about Rigus, as well as any info regarding the local laws.

[PallentisLunam]

"It is merely an identifying mark," the officer says handing the Pheasant a necklace. The soldiers tense as Pheasant weaves his spell but a simple shake of their officer's head causes them to relax once more. "At ease," he adds and they all assume a parade rest posture with their spears planted in the ground, points to the sky, shields across their chests.

Addressing Bear the officer shakes his head and his grizzled expression softens slightly, "It's not a law, more of a well respected custom." Extending his free hand to Bear the officer says, "I am Andrezhej, Lieutenant of the Mercykillers." Andrezhej's expression becomes stern once again as his eyes focus on the reappeared Szip. "I was not aware that paladins of Heironeous traveled with such creatures." He doesn't respond to Reclin's complaint about the necklaces with anything other than a scowl.

Rigus is basically a military camp built over the top of the Archeron portal. It is ruled by a dozen clanlike groups of military orders, each headed up by a general. The generals answer to a group of ancient warrior spirits bound to a crypt buried under the heart of the city. The city is essentially in a constant state of martial law. Rigus is commonly used as the jumping off point for various crusades into the lower planes.

Additionally, Mercykillers are a Sigilite faction of self-appointed interplanar bringers of justice, or vengeance. They also have a reputation for being particularly arrogant and insufferable.

The necklace is not magical. However, each Mercykiller soldier lights up like a sparkler of various overlapping magical auras (armors, shields, weapons, cloaks) and the lieutenant has several more auras affecting him, including two active spells.

No, the pendants do not take up a slot.

[BelGareth]

Bear nods at the officers remarks, and grins slightly when he introduces him.

"Well met Andrezhej, Lieutenant of the Mercykillers."

At the remark he almost winces "Indeed, it is not by choice, his master proclaims to some higher belief of innate goodness, or some such, I have, time and time again, admonished him for it, but he rebukes me at every turn. I stay with him, in hopes of converting him to the truth, perhaps one day he will know what I talk of, and then all this time, blemished by such a foul creature will have been worth it. As the 27th Analect says: 'Embolden the way for others, so that they may shine their light upon the world, and add it to your own, so your own light will be brighter for it.'" He pauses for a moment, reflecting upon the holy words of his order and then continues "Would you be so kind and point us in the direction of the market district?"

From here he nods to the Lieutenant, and turns towards his companions.

"You heard him, no violence inside, Titan...could you...come down to our level perhaps? Let's get moving, Kargams honor is ever being besmirched as we stand here idle."

[Eric Scott]

Titan shrinks back down to the normal Large size.

"Titan understands that violence should only be a last resort and only for self preservation."

[Postmodernist]

Reclin rolls his eyes with a violence that threatens to detach a retina. "Szip is can be an irksome little bugger, but he's proven his worth time and again. Besides, he typically stays out of sight, and at least he never bores all and sundry by quoting analects from some dusty old book."

Sense motive on these guys, just to make sure they aren't jerking us around. [roll0]

[PallentisLunam]

Andrezhej nods politely as Beargrom quotes scripture to him. "I suppose such things are between a man and his god," he says making a token effort to his his personal feelings on the matter.

In answer to Bear's request for direction Andrezhej provides the party with a brief description of Rigus' layout. The merchant and civilian districts occupy the first and second rings of the city along with the more logistical elements of the military's infrastructure, warehouses and quartermasters, ect. The third ring houses the soldiers proper and serves as the seat of government for the generals. The fourth and final ring is purely a defensive structure that serves no function besides being a military fortification. It is built around the great stairway and serves both to protect the gateway to Acheron and to protect the Outlands from anything which might issue forth from the same.

These guys (the mercykillers) are undoubtedly pompous, self-righteous *****. But you can't tell for certain if that is just a coincidence or if they are messing with you and your friends. The captain seems genuine but the snide looks passing between his underlings give you pause.
The mercykillers watch carefully as the party heads off into the greater city. It quickly becomes apparent that the nature of this place has had an effect on its inhabitants. While a fair few humans and dwarves mill about there are also a great many orcs, goblinoids, and even tieflings mixed into the population. Still an efreeti should stand out rather prominently in this company.

[Dimers]

The Pheasant takes on qualities of a social butterfly as the group move away from Andrezhej's squad. He and Reclin have learned a bit about each other's way of operating and tend to complement each other naturally in situations like this, where they have some social leeway. The market is an environment where both the humans can thrive regardless of how inhuman the denizens might look. Pheasant applies his friendly face (if not his friendly face spell) and a ready application of palm-grease to help the party find Varachus more quickly, hoping for support from Reclin as he goes.

The demonhunter also keeps alert for physical signs that an efreet may have passed by in its natural form. The incredible heat of such a body could discolor or damage materials, or possibly even leave a characteristic scent clinging like smoke.

I'd like "aid another" from Reclin, but with or without, I'm willing to spend some cash on social hunting along with just plain looking for 'tracks'. If I should roll seemingly relevant skills:
Gather Info, [roll0]
Sense Motive, [roll1]
Survival, [roll2]

[CozJa]

As the rest of the group take care of the guards, Greystone expends his time looking around the city: Rigus is an interesting piece of architecture, as even a place that looks always ready for war can spot more than a glimpse of immortal artistry.

The Warforged takes its necklace with an emotionless face and wears it, thinking it better not to look too much interesting for the guards.
As Reclin and Beargrom bicker (again) he restrains the warforged equivalent of a chuckle: the two looks like an old couple, always ready to fight each other, and always capable to overcome every challenge together.

As the group enters the market district in search for the Efreeti, Greystone uses his senses to find some place, both in the local architecture and in the faces, that can help them find Varachus.


Knowledge (Architecture&Engineering) (because I love it!) [roll0]
Spot to notice something useful [roll1]

[Postmodernist]

Reclin happily assists The Pheasant in scrounging up whatever information was available, asking helpful questions and making quips wherever possible. He does quietly state to the group, "Do keep your eyes peeled.
I don't trust those Mercykiller bastards. Rigus is lawful, but I wouldn't call it safe."


Aid another for:
Gather Info: [roll0]
Sense Motive: [roll1]
Survival: [roll2]

Also checking Listen: [roll3] and Spot: [roll4]

Wait, why does Reclin's spot modifier suck so bad? Must have had to gut it during my assorted skill shuffling at character creation. Ah, the trials and tribulations of the skill monkey character sheet.

[PallentisLunam]

The sights and sounds of Rigus assault your senses as you reach the market district. All of the streets meet at clean, sharp angles with narrow alleyways darting between tall buildings. Stern-eyed soldiers, guards, and mercykillers stalk along the streets, some obviously carrying out an official directive, others less so. All eyes are on passers by in the merchant squares as deals are shouted in a dozen languages.

The once the party has gotten its bearings it is quickly directed towards a large warehouse. Even from afar the open doors show that it is full of all manner of expensive goods. A burly, fire-wreathed form over twenty feet in height stands just inside the threshold, arms crossed scowling down at patrons that pass inside.

Even in Rigus an efreeti stands out rather starkly, however it would appear that people asking around about one is less common and you both notice more than one comment along the lines of "Varachus is popular today." Make of this what you will, you have solid directions to Varachus' place of business.

As you marvel at the simple but efficient architecture of Rigus you notice something odd. On one of the high peaked roofs prowls a grey iron beast whose form resembles that of a large jungle cat. It sulks and stalks along, it coloring well matched to the slate peaks of Rigus. Your eyes lower to a nearby alley way where you catch a second glimpse of steely grey and in the waning light you think that there might be a splash of red on the cobble stones.

[Dimers]

With one last glance around for misplaced invisible companions, the Pheasant pauses a discreet distance from the warehouse's entrance. In as low a voice as the loud street allows, he says to Beargrom, "Well, fearless leader, there's Goal Two, finding Varachus -- sounds like he's in town, and this should be where. But there's still no sign of Barney."

The demonhunter seems mildly stressed by the presence of hundreds or thousands of creatures whose ilk he has fought elsewhere, and by the sheer size of the brute visible through the door. His body language says he'd rather leave the talking to the unshakeable Beargrom now.

[CozJa]

As his more social-capable companions take care of 'external relations' with the gigantic creature over the door, Greystone takes his time to walk near Beargrom, and speaks to his group 'commander': "I have spotted a couple of strange metallic creatures and, while I'm not usually prone to human insistence on suspect, I believe they may have been observing us. Further caution is reccomended."

[BelGareth]

Bear is a passive wall of stony emotion as he walks with the group through the bazar that was Rigus. He liked the order, the discipline of the area, but there was a definite sense of unrighteousness here, a sense of evil behind every crook and door. It put him off, and so he walked in silence, thinking inwardly to himself and his god, it was the hard times that defined you, made you into what you are, shaped and molded your very soul, and Bear was an expert in that field.

He frowned as they came across the huge creature guarding the door, but it was to be expected, such a creature they were looking for would not go aimlessly into the good night, and his frown deepened as Greystone detailed his findings to him.

He nodded in thanks to Greystone and stepped forwards, toward the giant wreathed in fire, he had to look up, but not nearly as far as the others.

"Ho." he said simply to the giant. "We are looking to speak to Varachus" he wanted to leave it at that, but being the good door-giant, he would probably ask why, so he decided to continue "We need to speak to him regarding a shipment of adamantium that a friend of ours did not receive." he said simply, hoping the straight forwardness might push him more towards friendliness than sourness that plagued the average guard.


Trying to move him towards friendly
[roll0]

Also sense motive on anything it says for the Hunch ability (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/skills/senseMotive.htm) (DC 20)
[roll1]

[PallentisLunam]

The hulking brute scowls down at Beargrom. After a few moments he stomps his foot causing the whole warehouse to rumble. The clatter of a dozen clawed feet rattles up from the depths of the building. A great blue armored lizard appears between two rows of merchandise. Astride its back, on an intricately worked gilded saddle is a tall, dark, and handsome figure wrapped in ornate silk robes. "What, Snurreson?!" he bellows irritably smoke trailing from his smoldering eyes.

The giant nods towards Beargrom. With a kick and a flick of a set of heavy iron chains the efreeti, Varachus, spurs his behir forward. "Customers? What can Varachus do for you?" He leans forward with a broad sharp-toothed grin that flickers with tongues of flame. Allowing his eyes to roll over the group his expression grows hungrier as he skips from Titan to Greystone to Zsip. Then looking more closely at Beargrom it curdles like milk on a summer day. He manages to avoid scowling but he sits back on his mount with a disappointed slouch and waits for someone to speak.

The giant knows something. You catch an eye roll before he stomps his foot.

[Postmodernist]

Reclin smiles at the genie, noting the disapproving glance he casts at Beargrom, and jumps in before his evident disdain threatens to harden further.

"Lady's Grace to you, Varachus. These rum bloods and I were wondering about a shipment a berk named Kargarm was supposed to receive some two weeks ago. Something about 'mountain's seed,' or some such other Terran obscenity. Regardless, our mutual chum expressed surprise, given how such transactional inconsistencies can be bad for jingling business. He reckoned we should pop on by and hear your piece and sort everything out. Surely there's a square explanation for all this."

[roll0]

[PallentisLunam]

Now Varachus does indeed scowl, but it is clear that the expression is not necessarily directed at anyone present. "This again? Look, I've already sent word with your man back to that bothersome beard. The shipment was stolen. Rest assured the matter will be dealt with in all haste, however I cannot pull a dharni of adamantine out of my bottle. It will take time to find a new seller, and it will take more time if you keep pestering me!"

A fiendish looking customer who was dealing with a duergar at the nearby counter looks over sharply when Varachus mentions that he lost a shipment to theft. The fiend-lady then makes an imperious motion with her arm and snatching up a pouch,despite the protests of the clerk, stomps out the doors leaving the duergar to look over at Varachus with a helpless and apologetic shrug. Varachus utters a string of truly foul and colorful things in celestial.

[BelGareth]

Bear nods as Reclin interrupts his diatribe, it was by far the more appropriate response, his was more...condemning, and this was not the time.

"Perhaps, Master Varachus, we could be of assistance?" he said simply.

[PallentisLunam]

"Hmph, what do I look like? Some maiden in distress? I don't need more underlings and I certainly don't need your kind of assistance." The efreeti looks down at Beargrom like something particularly odorous he might have stepped in. "I have the situation well in hand. Now, buy something or leave."

[BelGareth]

Bear turns to the side, arms down as if to say go ahead Reclin

[Postmodernist]

"No one is accusing you of being a maiden, friend. We're simply trying to sort things for our master as quickly as possible. See, Szip here," he gestures at the imp, "has been ordered to find the shipment so that his master, the dread Tho'Daah-Nugh, can equip his armies. Kargarm has the contract to smith the goods, and Szip's slaves here," Reclin nods toward Beargrom and the others, ""have been tasked with assisting in the whole matter. The sooner it's all sorted, the happier our master will be. I bet there'd be even more business in it for you, and he'd undoubtedly recommend such a fine merchant to the rest of his comrades. We only ask that you nudge us in the right direction, so we can sort things in as mutually beneficial a fashion as possible. Isn't that right, master Szip?"

The imp nods, playing along with the pirate.

Rolling Bluff to convince the efreeti that we're agents of evil and can promise him more business [roll0]. Aid Another from Szip [roll1], if successful add 2 to the above roll.

[PallentisLunam]

Varachus puts on his best shady businessman face and clasps his hands together attempting to look vaguely apologetic, although his proud efreeti features don't wear the expression well. "Forgive Varachus for his rudeness, kind emissaries, but a supplier of rare and expensive goods such as he does not involve his clients in the internal affairs of his business. If he did, what would be the point of paying him to handle the myriad headaches that come with such transactions? Return to your masters and assure them that all will be well soon."

[Postmodernist]

"Terribly sorry for troubling you. While we're here, we might as well take a gander at what goods you've got." Reclin glances over the efreeti's wares, hoping to buy some time while the party determines their next steps.

[PallentisLunam]

"By all means," Varachus says with a half bow from the back of his behir. "The aides can assist you with anything you need." Straightening up Varachus tugs on the wrought iron chain that is attached to his mount's harness and the beast turns and skitters its way back into the bowels of the warehouse with a cacophonous clacking of claws.

[BelGareth]

Bear grunts as the efreeti retreats into his shop, he waits for him to be gone, and then turns to the giant.

"You know something, I'm sure of it, what can we do to loosen your lips?" he asks in all honesty.

[PallentisLunam]

The giant's booming laughter causes a sprinkling of dust to fall from the ceiling. "Surely you jest, knight. I serve a master who by his very whim can shape the world to best befit his desires. What have you to measure against such quality?"

[BelGareth]

Bear frowns, thinking on the words of the giant. They were not untrue words, he mulled them over, only his true intent, his heart could answer such conviction with conviction.

He would give it a shot.

”What you say is true, yet, I would not back away from such a being. I say, what of you that keeps you shackled to such a thing? I would suggest that perhaps your honor, may guide you, as I know that mine surely would. Perhaps your faith would prompt you, as surely as mine would. But I do not know you, nor will I pretend to. If it is within my power to help you, I surely will, that is all I can offer in the face of such a thing as you speak of. Perhaps that is not enough, perhaps it is.”

[PallentisLunam]

"You mistake me, sir. The only honor I seek is that of battle. The only faith I have is that Varachus will settle his debts. I serve him because my home was so incredibly dour. I seek diversion, and diversion in abundance. In this place I can drink and fight and whore with the very best the planes have to offer!" The giant shakes his head and chuckles lightly at Beargrom's propriety. "I need no saving from these things."

[Eric Scott]

With the screeching sound of metal on metal, scratching it's head Titan asks. "Why must we be against? Why can we not work with, making all the more powerful?"

[BelGareth]

Bear sighs inwardly, there was no fighting it, the giant spoke the truth, and he was not about to go against his ways for the likes of Bear, whom he had just met. They would need to go about this another way.

"Very well then, Can you suggest a good bar my friends and I will enjoy?"

If the giant offers one or not, he bids him farewell and moves off, away from earshot so he can speak with everyone.

"Well, we have established that it was stolen, now we need to figure out by whom, or what. Verachus is not going to help us, but perhaps there are other merchants hereabout who will?" he looks to Reclin and the others "There must be some information we can gather as to rumors and the wherabouts of the shipment, and where it came from. As well as what those mechanical beasts Greystone has eyed, perhaps we can set a trap for them, and see whats what?"

[CozJa]

Greystone follows the conversation with interest: it is always curious to see the incredible difference between Beargrom 'stony' approach to things, his mannerism sometimes more akin to a newly created warforged than a human being, and Reclin picaresque jests. It reminds him of the fascination he felt the first time he saw the sheer, ordered, willpower of the Githzerai monks shaping the everchanging chaos of Limbo. Maybe the balance of the multiverse hangs on dichotomies.

As the brutish fire giant speaks about his master's power, Greystone can't help but feel annoyed by his words.
"Perhaps you are right, son of the flame, but world shaping can come from many sources."
As he says this, the warforged points toward an empty crate not far from the giant, and uses his powers to mold it into a different shape: quickly, the material moves and reassembles, as the very root of it's mold seems to stir and take life. When Greystone finish, where once stood a simple crate, now a finely crafted reproduction of the City of Brass, from the Plane of Fire, stand in plain sight.
"That, too, is 'Shaping', son of the flame-"

Without adding other words, the warforged turns to Beargrom and follows him: "I'm quite interested in those creatures, and normally I'd advise against asking around too much, but after our entrance in the city, I highly doubt our presence would be a surprise for anyone."


Casting Psionic Fabricate (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/fabricate.htm)
Craft check to make a very good model: [roll0]
Knowledge (The Planes) check to remember the City of Brass details [roll1]

[PallentisLunam]

Snurreson seems almost stunned that Titan is capable of speech, let alone following the conversation. However he blinks away his amazement and looks back to Bear. "Ahh... the uhh," a curious glance flashes towards Titan again. Then Greystone performs his shaping and the giant merely stares in wonder between the two warforged and the model City of Brass.

With a rather dumbfounded expression on his face the next words seem to just fall out of Snurreson's mouth, "The Quickest Barricade has the best brew in Rigus. It's on the opposite side of this ring. If you head inward The Iron Curtain has the best company coin can buy."

[Postmodernist]

"Snurreson, mate, if you ever find yourself looking for another line o' work, something tells me you and I would get along smashingly. Drinkin', fightin', and whorin' are some of my finest aptitudes. I typically perform them consecutively, but have pursued them concurrently on more than one occasion. We appreciate your recommendations."

[Dimers]

"Interesting," the Pheasant drawls with thinly veiled annoyance. "The efreeti's so hungry to appear in control that he's willing to let business continue to drift away. And he clearly feels strongly about that."

With a sigh, he adds, "I'm as disappointed as always that people act so against their own interests. But I'm not Varachus's governess any more than he's my little girl."


"Well, we have established that it was stolen, now we need to figure out by whom, or what. Varachus is not going to help us, but perhaps there are other merchants hereabout who will?" he looks to Reclin and the others "There must be some information we can gather as to rumors and the wherabouts of the shipment, and where it came from. As well as what those mechanical beasts Greystone has eyed, perhaps we can set a trap for them, and see whats what?"

"I've no insight to add, sir, but I'll be by your side."

Anything meaningful to glean from Varachus's phrasing, e.g. the Celestial cussing or the term "dharni"?

[Dimers]

Using the fire giant's suggestion as a focus for now, the adventurers -- 'The Joyful Maggots', as they've been called a time or three -- make their way toward The Quickest Barricade, curving around to avoid the most densely fortified part of Rigus. The Pheasant, Reclin and Beargrom make some quiet inquiries and grease some palms as they go, hoping to learn more about Varachus's recent business but also keeping an ear out open to the hot rumors of the day.

[PallentisLunam]

As the grey light of an Outlands day fades, the party winds its way through the streets of Rigus, past stony eyed Mercykillers and crowds of civilians making their ways to various public houses, pleasure dens, and gambling halls. Varachus' name is well known in the city as the genie you want in your pocket if you're moving anything from raw materials to magical artifacts to illicit substances. Leading questions about his recent troubles mostly draw shrugs or assurances that the asker must be mistaken. There is a great deal of speculation that Varachus' business is being bolstered by the disappearances of various craftspeople. When you can't pay to have something made custom the next best thing is to buy the finished product.

There are also rumors of the brutal death of an inworlder. Word is he was ripped apart by something and half eaten. A drunken Azer, his fires flickering low mumbles something about the cats of Acheron but is obviously too scared to say any more.

Finally, Pheasant finds less than savory character who seems to know something about Varachus' missing shipment. A little bit of coin and a generous application of charm loosen the fixer's tongue. Apparently the genie refused to work with someone named Imperagon and this is his or her way of trying to force Varachus' hand. However, Varachus has done some digging and found that Imperagon is based out of Acheron, on The Lost Cube.

[BelGareth]

Once they found their own table, that was alone, and in a 'just-as-seedy-and-dark' location, Bear turned to the others after scanning the crowd. "Well then, do we travel to this Acheron? To find this Imperagon? I know nothing about The Lost Cube, but I know enough to know that Acheron is not a good place to go. What do we all think?"

[Eric Scott]

"The word "lost" has a few meanings. This cube could be "lost" in the sense that it has fallen to evil, or "lost" as in not found. The former isn't a problem, the latter is." Titan say unmovingly.

[CozJa]

The Warforged ponders all those new informations that were collected, then decides to try and reorder everything for the group. Placing thing in a way that can be understood is the best start of an artist's work, after all.

"Way I see it, we have at least three possibilities, given the things we learnt today:" as he speaks, Greystone raises one of his manufactured hands, and the fingers rise up with a faint *clink*

"First of all, we could go back to Varachus, and propose to work with him to solve his problems, but I have to admit that I don't particularly like the attitude of this merchant; second, we could rush to Acheron as our fearless leader suggests; but even in that case I fear we'd end up circling around some place looking for informations... Or, we have a third option: That Azer words about cats reminds me of the strange metallic creatures I spotted earlier this day, we may ask the city guard about those disappearances and the killing to see if they know more; after all," He says turning to Beargrom "Even if I still don't understand as much as I'd like facial expressions, It looks like you made a pretty good impression on those guards we met earlier."

[BelGareth]

Bear nods as Greystone recounts the facts.

"I like option 3 Greystone, there is logic to that, and perhaps they did my friend, but not nearly as much as you are putting stock into it." he finished, smiling.

[Postmodernist]

"The Mercykillers are a bunch of bowel-less, self-important kobold kings, thinkin' they're better than every berk out there." Reclin pauses a moment, looks at Bear, looks at Greystone, then back at Bear, before bursting out laughing. "Of course they'd take a shine to you, mate!"

Reclin continues to chuckle longer than seems appropriate before restoring himself, smoothing his shirtfront. He quirks an eyebrow. "As any wormy spiv knows, you don't get into anything without gettin' the keeper on your adversary. Not unless you wanna end up in the Dead Book. Fortunately, this little whistler here," he flicked Szip's wing, waking the devil, who had dozed off on his shoulder, ""has a few tricks up his stinger.
Itn't that right, Szippy?"

"No. Uh-uh. Nope. No. I'm not doing that again. Every time I ask something, you end up risking our lives because you think you got a good gate key all of a sudden. Besides, I can feel the Baatori bastards looking back at me, and I feel like they'll send Asmodeus himself to drag me back. I'd rather not go back to punching some Baatezu's clock."

"We're not askin', we're tellin'. Now, who's got a question for Szip?"

[PallentisLunam]

The party goes around the table taking a few moments to carefully compose their list of questions all while Zsip hovers and flutters nearby grumbling and pulling faces at them. When they are ready the imp lands on the table and crosses his legs. "I want to renegotiate my contract, you wanker," he spits with a murderous glare at Reclin.

"Get on with it," the mage says ignoring the comment.

Szip mumbles an incantation under his breath. Suddenly his whole body tenses as a flickering tongue of green flame appear between his horns. His eyes glow bright purple as black ichor begins to leak from his tear ducts. A voice, not his own, seems to tear its way out of his throat and within a few words ichor is running over his teeth and down his chin to burn sizzling holes in the wooden table. "Ahh, the prodigal whelp cries out for answers," the deep, icy voice purrs.

Szip gasps in his own words coughing bile and blood, "You highness-" he begins, terrified.

"Quiet!" the voice snaps. "Mmm, what is this tasty morsel to which you have bound your soul little snip?" it asks as Szip's eyes and head turn grotesquely and painfully towards Reclin. Reclin can feel an invading presence, darker and more malevolent than he ever thought possible, in Szip's essence through the familiar bond he has with the tortured little devil.

Through the small part of his essence that Szip has managed to keep separate from the entity that answered the commune spell the imp cries out in psychic pain and begs Reclin for help to bolster the magic. Szip's physical form convulses and more acidic phlegm and ichor drip from his chin. A few nearby patrons glance over and hurriedly focus on their cups in dismay. Szip's stinger curls over his shoulder and plunges into his neck, but the action seems to stabilize his situation for the moment.

Frost begins to form on the tips of Szips wings as the voice gives a disappointed sigh, "Hmm, well done. Being so far away makes it difficult to have as much fun with such a connection as one might like. Very well. Ask you questions."

"Is Varachus telling the truth?"


"At times."

"Was the Azer telling the truth?"


"He was."

"Is Imperagon responsible for Varachus' (or Kargarm's) lost shipment of adamantine?"


"He is."

"If we speak with the Imperagon's faction, are they likely to lie to us?"


"Quite certainly."

"Did Varachus order or execute the disappearance of craftspeople?"


"Not at all."

"Are the cats of Acheron connected to Varachus?"


"Not to Varachus."

"Are the disappearances of craftspeople connected to Imperagon?"


"They are."

"Are the disappearances of craftspeople connected to the dead inworlder?"


"They are not."

"Should we go to Acheron?"


"If you wish to find answers."

"Is the missing shipment in Acheron?"


"For now."

"Should we hunt the cats of Acheron?"


"Only with great care."

"Will the Mercykillers and/or Andrezhej help us?"


"To a certain extent."

"Is Barney alive?"


"Quite the opposite."

"Is Barney the dead in-worlder?"

"Why yes, he is. And with that your spell is finished. I will be watching with great interest, so do try to be entertaining. It does gets ever so dull in here."

As the flame between Szip's horns dies and his eyes cease to glow he collapses forward onto the pockmarked table and lays there moaning and cursing for several moments as his natural healing abilities kick in to repair the damage dealt by the ordeal.

I know commune is suppose to be yes/no but this seemed better, so I went with it.

[Dimers]

Not expecting the touch of a witchhunter to be appreciated by a devil, The Pheasant forgoes using his limited healing magics to help Szip recover. But he does lean down and murmur, "Thank you for your sacrifice, unwilling though it may be."

[PallentisLunam]

Szip rolls over on his side, knocking a sheet of ice from his wing in the process, and proceeds to utter a long string of what Pheasant can only assume to be Infernal. From the pained sound of the imp's voice and his contorted expression the witch hunter does not need to speak the language to understand how rude the little devil is being.

[Dimers]

"Yes, yes, darling, I love you as well. --So," Pheasant says as he turns to Beargrom. "We're certainly down one man. We might be able to recover a portion of his body for resurrection. But beyond that we seem to have a direction ... because we do want answers."

The human sighs and cracks his neck. "We should probably rest soon to refresh. I propose we find a hostel or inn, try to gather a trace of our luckless friend, get some sleep, and rise to a Heroes' Feast tomorrow. Thoughts, all?"

[Eric Scott]

"Rest? That seems to be all you beings ever do... A third of your lives on average." Titan says. "Greystone understands... Sort of..."

[CozJa]

"I do sort of understand, my alternative-living friend, but even if I don't need the same resting time of our companions knitted by flesh and blood, some stop to recharge my ecto-psychic generators is always appreciated, unless we want them to overwork and wear out at the most untimely moment, like that time on the ticking fields of Mechanus."

The warforged moves on his chair, then looks into the void, pondering the many answers they got.

"After all, contacting the Mercykiller sounds like a decent idea, I don't like the thought of our lost friend being stripped of his valuables in a foreign city. Even if I doubt he'll want to come back to wherever brightly hope-filled plane he's resting now.

After this, it looks like this Imperagon may be our best target, if we want to discover what is happening. Any thoughts on the matter?"

[BelGareth]

The stalwart bear raised an eyebrow at the whole 'event'. He did not like consorting with demons and devils, and things unsavory, but his friends had proven the information could be trusted...mostly.

Still. He had a hard time reconciling it with his oath, and his religion. To use such information from such a being, constituted what, exactly? Could he act upon it, without breaking any vows? He thought inside while the imp was being tortured through the whole endeavor. Perhaps this was a test sent by the almighty, he doubted that, he was already very highly esteemed, to test him would be like to shatter a wall with a simple spear. No, if he were to be tested, it would be mightier than this.

Frowning slightly, and regarding the little imp with a certain amount of pity, he nodded solemnly.

"I agree. We should travel to this Imperagon. Though, I am unsure how much help the Mercy Killers will be." he said, frowning deeper at the mention of the group, they cared more for law than the intent, the ideal of it, such as they were named.