The Signs of Serenity (IC)

[rigsmal]

https://i.imgur.com/zphluz6.png?2


OUT-OF-CHARACTER (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?538607-The-Signs-of-Serenity-(OOC)&p=22458630)

COMBAT MAPS (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1NnpTEl0KU72uxEtIhGsMf3Nht-0XUmg5i13h12ItMeU/edit?usp=sharing)


TO FIND A WIZARD

Our heroes begin their search for the mysterious wizard known as Azarah in the Whole Note Inn in Clerk's Ward. On the infinite planes where belief is power, who can say for certain that their journey will entail.

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN

From outside the Whole Note Inn is a châteauesque, four-story building spanning two blocks. It has been in Sigil for over half-a-century now, and even managed to survived the Faction War with minimal damage, despite the nearby Civic Fest Hall having been nearly reduced to rubble. Its owner, Abigail Ide-Maura, is a bard of some renown who has managed to avoid the ever-present and violent city politics. She retired from the life of entertainment, and has since run a clean business, treating staff and customers equally well, and otherwise staying on the right side of people.

At any given time, the inn's exterior has three pairs of guards patrolling the perimeter and two doormen greeting customers. It is currently peak, or the brightest time of day, and the streets of Clerk's Ward are busy with merchants, administrators, scribes, craftsmen, and civilians who have business with them. The air is cool, the skies grey and clouded, and it is hard to breathe on account of the thin air. While in Sigil, those with Con scores of 10 or below take 2 points of Con damage, and those with Con scores with 11 or above only take 1 point of Con damage. This only affects newcomers to Sigil, and only those who breathe air.

Sigil, the City of Doors, is always a sight to behold. It is located on the inner edge of a great ring, and as one walks the streets of Sigil and looks up, the rest of the city comes into view, climbing up along the inside of the ring, hanging upside down at the end of the city opposite to you, and curving back around behind. The scale is immense, and city buildings above you taper off into small, black dots. The experience induces a vertigo not unlike that from flying upside-down high above a city.

The skyline of Sigil is a complicated mess of unregulated architectural styles, tangled bridges and towers, baroque spires and buttresses, monolithic edifices, and uncountably-many small residences and establishments crammed together in haphazard clumps which fill the spaces between enormous buildings.


THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Astrid, Step, Fetch, Eilyra, and Faris)

Upon entering the Whole Note Inn, you find yourself standing in some sort of entry space amid a large, elegantly-furnished bar room. Multiple levels are accessible from the first, and each level is dotted with tables, bars, lounges, and fireplaces. The first floor additionally has a curtained stage, visible at all angles to patrons on any level. There is currently no performance playing, and the room looks about a third-filled. The patrons look well-to-do, not quite the upper strata of society but certainly in the class of more-successful merchants, craftsmen, artisans, and officials.

A large display sign greets you near the entrance, reading:




~ Specials ~

Carceri snails, 7sp

(fried in goat butter)

poached goose eggs, 5sp

(served with a shaving of truffles)

malt flatbread, 4 sp

(and juniper oil)

braised ankheg, 12sp

(pickled radish, mushroom sauce, 8 oz.)



~ Drinks ~

freshly squeezed Crimmor pears, 10gp

(infusion of honeyed ginger)

Pale Saerloonian Chartreuse, 1gp

(imported from Faerûn)



~ Performances ~

Sara mac Lir, harp, Falataer's Six Studies for Strings, tickets 10gp ea. SOLD OUT!

watch the famous god-blooded harpist play the mesmerizing tunes of the Fochlucan College
an unrivaled musician, a performance for the ages!
date to be announced

Next to the display is a proper-looking graying half-elf man wearing gold spectacles and a fine brocaded doublet. He is holding up a leather-bound appointment book and seems to be muttering to himself. "Hmm... should swap the fourth-floor guests in the fifth room with the sixth. Yes, yes... that makes space for Chairwoman Rhys' meeting..."

[BelGareth]

Fetch straightened his jacket as he entered Sigil, he had been there countless times before, he stepped through the portal and couldn't help but grin at the sight of it all, his eyes wide with wonder, he couldn't help it.

His feet hovered slightly off the ground, no one cared here, and he could be himself with out care.

He moved quickly to the inn, weaving and bobbing around, through, and sometimes under the menagerie of creatures that inhabited this city.

It didn't take long, and he involuntarily gulped as the air thinned, he knew it was coming, but it still happened, such was the perils of being mortal. Perhaps he could change that.

He floated into the inn, bobbing gently on an invisible current, and took a seat, waving the barmaid and ordering the Carceri snails while he waited for something. anything

[Archmage1]

Having traveled via the elfgates to Sigil, Eilyra gets lucky, and manages to spot the ruins of the Civic Fest Hall, and she only gets lost a few times along the way, although it takes her most of the day(Especially with the thin air making it rather hard to breathe). Starting to feel rather tired, and hungry, she pauses when she sees a large building, with the sign of an Inn.
Hm... quite the large building, for an inn. But I've been walking all day, and this air... how do natives stand it! I suppose a brief break won't hurt, and some food will do me good, especially if it helps with the air. The sight lines are impressive, but the ruins detract from it a bit. I can see how someone in this age might be amazed by the appearance, but it has nothing on Arcorar. Of course, it's still here, where Arcorar is long gone. Bah... enough of this.
With a word, and a quick gesture, her magic scrubs the collected dust and dirt of a day's walking from her green and gold dress, and her wings, before she approaches the door, smiling in a closed mouth fashion, since she didn't want to worry the half elf servant waiting there. After waiting for a few moments, she speaks up, her tail flicking back and forth behind her, giving away her agitation.
<Elven>
"Do you have a table available?"

[dextercorvia]

Wisp

Standing at the mirror in her room, Wisteria smooths an errant curl back into her braid. As she straightens her dress, the lock falls right back to dangle next to her ear. She absently tucks it behind her ear, and heads down to the common room.

Descending the stair, she can feel the tightness in. She takes a seat and orders off menu, "Berries with creme." While she waits, she takes in the oddness of this place. It isn't just the air. Who would have thought the day Omar ran off would lead me to this? Wisp's business in Sigil is pressing like the lungs against her ribs. Stele. He noticed my weakness after Omar left. He will not get away with this. The purse of diamonds he stole is only part of it. Wisp does not tolerate betrayal.

Another voice in her mind, like her own, but distant, That is not the only thing we are here for.

[TankLaser007]

Faris

It had been almost three days since he had enter the portal and three days in this -- city. It was unlike any place he had seen nor even heard tales of from the elders and learned men, not even the barbarians who sometimes visited their lands with their strange tales and books with pictures of far off places ever came near to the almost nightmarish landscape. Perhaps this was the innards of some bottle or lamp that this king of djinns was trapped in. And he too was imprisoned in this strange encapsulated world.

Whenever he had inquired of this djinn -- this master of wishes, Azarah Tor most of the strange denizens merely cast bemused looks his way, a few had laughed, the most helpful he had found had directed him towards a large building and some sort of gigantic statue of a horse. He stopped a wide black eyed woman and asked her as he had asked so many before and she indicated a building a few meters away. He nodded and thanked her and he made his way to the building.

Perhaps it was a barracks of some type, its size was great and there seemed a good amount of soldiers were in employ there. Inside near the door was an elf, or on of elven ancestry. He approached the man who seemed to be busy with some type of recitation, perhaps his daily devotions...

"Greetings. I am Faris al-Zakhari, I am seeking the one they call Azarah Tor, I was led to believe I might find news of him here, might you be able to assist me or know of one who can?"

[00110111]

Having paid the doorman to see to her horse, Astrid Mavenwood pulls back her veil as she steps into the flickering candlelight and releases a full head of of auburn hair with a shake of her head. Her noble bearing relaxes, and she sheds five years in an instant. She smoothes a day's ride from her prim and proper habit, and she approaches the bookkeeper with the smile of a lifelong charmer.

"It has been years, old friend," she croons in the deep, feminine, husky voice. She offers her hand in greeting. "Ever since the old way closed, I feel seven years older each time I make the journey. You look sharp as ever. Tell me everything. How is business?"

After some smalltalk, she requests an upper-level stateroom and allows herself to be escorted to the bar. She doesn't recognize the bartender. She waits to be acknowledged before ordering the eggs, flatbread, and chartreuse. Meanwhile, she scans the length and breadth of the room for notable faces and those who seem different than they really are.

Taking 10 on bluff (total 29); she doesn’t know the proprietor at all. Taking 10 on gather information (total 27) regarding local events.

Spend:
5cp doorman/stablehand for horse
5sp eggs
4sp flatbread
1gp chartreuse
??? lodgings

1.95gp total plus lodgings

Mindsight tells Astrid intelligent creatures’ position, type, and int scores within 100ft. Right now, she’s only interested in type discrepancies (e.g. Aberrations appearing humanoid). She doesn’t care about mind flayers playing cards as long as they look like mind flayers.

Also, if there is any spellcasting within 60ft, her Ring of Spell-Battle will alert her. The same would go for manifesting, if transparency is in effect.

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Astrid, Step, Fetch, Eilyra, and Faris)

A server brings to Fetch's table a plate of four large snail shells, each twice the size of a human fist, colored in streaks of black and red. The cooked flesh is dark, glistening, and aromatic. A glass of water is placed next to the plate. The server bows and leaves.


"Do you have a table available?"

In fluent, but accented, Elvish, the bespectacled half-elf says, "Naturally, sir. In our establishment, you merely need sit at a table and a server shall tend to your needs. I handle reservations and other such bookings."


"Berries with creme."

It does not take long for a server to bring the desired dish and an accompanying glass of water. The listed price is 2 sp.


"Greetings. I am Faris al-Zakhari, I am seeking the one they call Azarah Tor, I was led to believe I might find news of him here, might you be able to assist me or know of one who can?"

"Oh dear," says the half-elf. He turns around and says loudly, "Madame!"

Across the room and entertaining two well-dressed guests is a friendly-looking human woman in colorful courtier clothing. Upon hearing the call, she apologizes to the guests and strides towards the entrance. Looking Faris head to toe, she says, "Aye, cutter. Abigail, at your service. What can this one do for you?"

"Madame," says the half-elf, "let me introduce you to Sir Faris al-Zakhari. He is asking of the wizard known as Azarah."

With a sigh, Abigail says in a low voice, "Lots of bloods have been asking after this Azarah fellow. I know the rumors started after Darkwood's War, yeah? I get it. Planars, primes, and bloods in the Cage worried and all. What I don't get is why they come to my place. Look, cutter, you don't look like some cony, so I won't demean you. Just... understand no berk on the street really knows the chant about this Azarah fellow. If they say they do, they're feeding you a smooth line, you see? And bloods, well, they don't share, if you mark my meaning."


"It has been years, old friend," she croons in the deep, feminine, husky voice. She offers her hand in greeting. "Ever since the old way closed, I feel seven years older each time I make the journey. You look sharp as ever. Tell me everything. How is business?"

The half-elf bows apologetically. "Deepest apologies, madame, my memory must be failing me. Our establishment has been doing well. We—" his voice turns to a scandalous whisper "—even managed a contract with the Sara mac Lir, and I should believe the competition is quite livid." His voice returns to normal. "I should be happy to speak with you in a moment, but alas, presently, there may be matters to attend to." He inclines his head towards Abigail and Faris. "If you take a seat, our excellent staff shall tend to you."

He books Astrid one of their more stately rooms on the fourth floor. Costs 2 gp a day. Not long after Astrid chooses a table and orders, servers bring her food and drink. The bread and eggs are excellent, but the Saerloonian chartreuse is particularly good. It is neither too sweet nor too dry, and has a warm, breezy taste with a hint of pear.


THE SHATTERED TEMPLE, GROUNDS (Jhessail)

The Shattered Temple, true to its name, is what remains of a once-soaring temple. Nonetheless, its crumbling walls, spires, and arches still reach several stories tall, and its now-fragmented form proves surprisingly resilient to the elements, both natural and artificial. The temple is beautiful, in spite of or perhaps because of its deterioration. Its half-shattered stained glass windows and cracked polished stone brick construction stand testament to faded glory, which is, in its own way, powerful.

The Shattered Temple stands within a larger enclave of abandoned buildings, all brought to ruin by whichever force undid the temple. The Ditch flows in sight, its foul, murky waters running below a bridge. Across the bridge is a path towards the Hive. In another direction, the immense, monolithic structure of the Great Foundry dominates the skyline. It looks but a short walk from here. Black clouds spew from its many chimneys, obscuring the air. Fortunately, a light breeze blows through the area, providing some respite from the sickening fumes.

The temple was once home to the Athar, under the leadership of Factol Terrance, and provided succor to many former religious as well as those born defiant. Now one could not be sure who runs the place. As you approach, you see eight mercenaries milling about the grounds, and twice that number in gray-robed figures walking hurriedly, carrying heavy tools, scrolls, and crates in and out of the temple.

[Gryps2]

She was back in Sigil again.

Despite having been there many times before, the city's thin air never failed to make Clymene's lungs and throat feel raw. She remembered the first time she arrived, she was panic-stricken, stumbling and gasping. Now she just bore the discomfort silently as she wandered the streets of the City of Doors, occasionally pausing to notice a portal. It was a great fantasy of hers to find a portal that led to Elysium, or Arborea, or one of the many other paradises she had heard of, and to find that the burden on her soul would be magically lifted there. But it seemed unlikely that she would find welcome in any such place.

No, the key to her future lay in the city itself. Perhaps it was another daydream, but she had heard Azarah Tor's name mentioned a few too many times for it to be some idle fantasy. All the chatter and clues had led her here, to the Clerk's Ward, a place she had heard of before but never visited, having spent all of her time in the Market Ward, Lower Ward, or the Hive. She could remember a dozen interchangeable taverns; smelly, noisy places where she sat uncomfortably while her mentor drank and did business.

None of them looked as comfortable or welcoming as the Whole Note Inn, and she both feels and looks out of place the. Clad in full plate that had lost its mithral luster, she looks like a soldier fresh off the field of battle as she enters. Scanning the room, she notices someone else who looks out of place, a man questioning the maître d'hôtel, asking him about... Azarah Tor?

Then she is not the only one. Wordlessly, she approaches the elf and Faris, standing about a yard away and shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation. Hearing nothing interesting, she frowns and steps forward, looking at Faris. "You're looking for him too, then." she says, her voice flat.

[BelGareth]

Fetch nods his thankyou and picks up his utensils, but remembers why he was there in the first place. He narrows his eyes and scans the room, both with his eyes, and ears.


Particularly the conversation happening, but that is meta, so whatever he hears.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Astrid, Step, Fetch, Clymene, Eilyra, and Faris)

The whisper gnome hears the conversation without much difficulty.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra would register as an outsider with an int of 28.


Nodding at the servant, Eilyra walks into the common room, and looks for an empty table with decent chairs(Namely, ones usable with wings), planning on ordering the snails, as they seemed to be intriguing.
Odd accent on that one.
Soon enough, she finds one meeting her requirements, she heads for it, moving gracefully across the floor.

However, as she walks, she hears mention of Azarah Tor, and slows down to listen in.
Sounds like there's competition for the wish, Unfortunate, but not surprising. And the locals are either scared, or genuinely don't know anything. That makes things riskier, but no risk is rather boring, after all. Hm... to join, or not to join... He's not ugly, but seduction is so passe, and rather risky. Time to wait and see. He might be a servant, or interested in hiring some help. Or there might be others, and groups are so much easier than people. And who knows, there might be more than one wish on offer.
She promptly looks around for a closer table, and subtly moves towards it instead, planning on ordering snails, and listening in.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

She was home--and yet not home; a native, and yet a stranger both. How fitting, thought Jhessail Zhodani, for this city of paradoxes called Sigil.

Ever since she fled the Cage with the remnants of her faction, she would look up the infinite heights of the Spire to the torus that ringed its pinnacle and dream of the day of her return--and yet, in another paradox, she felt equal parts dread. She deliberately had avoided taking any contracts on her forays to Union that would take her to the City of Doors, not believing her time had come.

And yet here she was, walking the streets of the Lower Ward, taking in the sights, the sounds, and the smells--oh the smells--of her old stomping grounds. The lure of the Wish, the Wish of All Wishes--and the magus rumored to have the power to grant it--was simply too great a lure to pass up. She was in the wrong part of the Cage of course from what the rumors had spoken, if they were to be believed (she was skeptical), but her feet had followed a more familiar path than the ones that led to the Whole Note Inn. There was time for a detour, surely.

Whether it was a wisely chosen path or not, Jhessail found herself standing before that magnificent wreck of a place she had once called home. Granted, it hadn't been for very long, but there was something about the Shattered Temple that comforted her. Her eyes greedily took in its glorious decay, its blighted grandeur--again with the paradoxes--and took no notice of the robed figures and mercenaries moving about the grounds until she was practically elbow to elbow with them.

"Oi, what's all this then? You bloods movin' in or movin' out?" she asked, more surprised than angered by their presence.


Jhessail currently has active a ML 14 Share Pain with her Psicrystal and a ML 14 Inertial Armor (at a cost of 13 PPs for +10 AC) shared with her Psicrystal, which she would have immediately manifested upon entering Sigil. I assume she counts for being acclimated to the environment?

[dextercorvia]

Wisp sets a couple coins on the table and then raises the spoon to her lips. The berries are tart, but the creme is cool and sweet, just like she likes. I detest creme. That distant voice again. She gives her head a slight toss as if to dislodge the passenger. The newcomers catch her eye, but especially the loud one. I met Omar in a place like this. She takes another look around, Well, not exactly like this. Perhaps I can acquire some muscle.

Somewhere, Step hears the name Azarah. There! That is who we are looking for.

"No. I am looking for Stele." Wisp answers the voice aloud before she can stop herself. She tucks an errant strand behind her ear and tries to see if anyone noticed her outburst. The voice is becoming more frequent, and that troubles her. She takes another bite and finds that she has lost the taste. Despite that, she forces herself to take slow and patient bites.

[00110111]

Fetch notices that Astrid's ears perk up ever so slightly when Faris mentions Tor's name. "Humanoid 10," her mind notes. "My. Muscles in all the right places, but no sense of subtlety. Too bad." Her mental attention follows Faris to his table.

With nary another telltale sign, she quite convincingly settles down for a nice meal at the bar facing away from everyone. As she scans the room, she feels a powerful jolt as if an imaginary spine were to seized up. "Aaargh, Outsider 28," she groans all of a sudden under her breath. She quickly pretends to squeeze her "sore" shoulder on her cane hand. "I'm not getting any younger," she murmurs. She takes a sip of liqueur medicinally, and she feels better very quickly. She produces a handkerchief, whereupon she dabs her lips. Faris' conversation comes in loud and clear. From this vantage point near Faris, she glances in Eilyria's direction. "That dress suits you, dear. If only I had the figure for it..."

"Ah, humanoid 23," she notes. "Hmm. Something isn't right. The stars are lining up in the span of a few minutes where Tor's name is mentioned in public. Time to take my leave." She downs the last morsel, savors the liqueur, and leaves a bit of coin for the bartender.

Astrid approaches the proprietor, she takes his hand unsteadily, and she whispers, "May I trouble you one more time? I'm afraid I have had a drop to drink. Be a dear, and have a lass help me with the stairs and a nice hot bath, would you?" With a squeeze, she leaves him with a few coins more.

Astrid pays for a single night's stay for now.

Again, taking 10 on Bluff (total 29) to "not listen" while listening in.

Astrid manifests a Clairvoyant Sense (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/psionic/powers/clairvoyantSense.htm) sensor by a table near Faris using her Third Eye Sense at-will. She places the sensor underneath against where the table leg meets the table surface. She re-manifests as needed to follow him around. She cannot fail the Concentration check to manifest without a display, even if she wasn't taking 10, so she will not use a display for the rest of the game.

Spend: 5cp

[tonberryking]

For her first time in a bizarre titanic city like this, the centaur was managing fairly well.

Oh sure, there was a bit of a stir when she gated into this place, expecting a cadre of sickly pallor dwarves wielding picks and spears coated with oil and poisons alike only to find herself in a courtyard of very surprised beings wearing armorless robes and yelling at her in a language she could not understand. Presumably they were investigating why the portal in their care had opened, but Raila just cantered out of there agitated and tensed. Maybe her hand never leaving her sword hilt kept the gatekeepers from giving her too much of a hard time and none of them were willing to chase her, either.

Her run quickly slowed, however, and not because of the air. No, she was ignorant beyond the strange smells that the air in Sigil would have harmed her. Raila, a centaur with a red lower half, eventually came to a steady trot, merging into the crowd, looking up at the ring that was Sigil even as it turned slowly underneath her hooves. Frankly, it was like an odd, impromptu stargazing session, only with buildings and spires rather than stars and nebulas to captured her attention. Rather than silence save for the chattering of crickets, she heard a din of city noises and tongues speaking words she only understood one out of three times. For how long she wandered, looking in silent awe upon a city that was not heaps of technology oozing corrosive fluids and pollution mills that putrefied anything nearby it, she doesn't know. A plains dweller her entire life, with towns being either laid to ruin or part of an industrial nightmare, she reasons this is what most too leggers want out of a city rather than the Cult's idea of structure. To a degree, it sobered her and her sword.

Of course, there was much in this turning wheel of an oversized megapolis that offended her, but not in the vile, violence inducing way of those damned dwarves. Most importantly, she determined that this this was a bazaar. A bizarre one, but this was not a place of war and constant fighting; Raila felt somewhat self conscious she had come here with little else but a blade and armor. And after enough time of walking around, she cantered instead down paths with signs she could actually read and came upon the inn. Its purpose she had already known of, though it would be her first to enter; while it wouldn't have been her first choice to seek refreshment and information, at least its doors seemed large enough to accommodate her.

And through the doors she goes, her shod hooves clacking against the floor and there in the foyer Raila stops, her braided blond tail twitching. She pokes at whatever material the floor is made from, a little cautious that marring its surface may put off the owners. She cautiously looks out from under her bangs, expecting her presence may be challenged...

[TankLaser007]

Faris al-Zhakari

He relaxed himself as the woman approached, suddenly conscious of how he might appear. He adjusted the kaffan in such a way as to pull the cloth up a little more over his face adjusting the side by pulling the corners up a bit. His flicked quickly to the head of Dawn, the worn and tattered sheath was still in place on the long spear's blade, a sign to all he was there in peace. There was no need to unduly frighten or offend these people.

He listen to the woman speak, this Abigail, she spoke quickly her accent was strange, and while he understood her words it seemed that somehow their meanings were foreign. Cutter? Did she think he was someone else, she spoke also of blood his eyes once again scanned his own garment and Dawn checking for signs of battle or stains.

Faris had never been one adept at subterfuge, it wasn't that he lack guile per say -- although he did -- it was that he just never understand the need or even the purpose for it. His people tended to be direct, yes they maintained the etiquettes of custom but it was always clear what the wanted, and no matter the eloquence of the speaker -- and there were many a man of the sands who expressed their thoughts in couplets and verse, yet this...

It was obvious to likely all that he was a bit confused by her speech.

"My lady, Abigail? Forgive us but we are only three days here in this... place" he gestures with a free hand seeming to indicate the city as a whole and not just the Inn, "...perhaps much of the local languages escapes us." he lowers the wrap cover his face a bit, sliding down so that its lowest point covers his chin while the sides still obscure most of his face. He smiles, as he does so a soft glow seems to radiate from him. Nimbus of Light Active

"I do not wish to trouble you, nor those in your employ, forgive me. I just wanted to clarify that this Azarah -- he is known of here, in this city? Whoever might be most knowledgeable on this matter if you could direct us to them we would be indebted to you."

It is then he notices the woman, she seems to also be seeking him. Clearly a warrior by her bearing he has never met such a creature, standing almost a foot taller than him, with red eyes. She seems like something from the stories told to frighten the new recruits. He tries to conceal his shock upon first seeing the warrior woman.

"Yes we are seeking word of this Azarah Tor. Might you know something of him?"


[roll0] to try to hide his initial shock at seeing a Maenad for the first time; so as not to hurt the woman's pride or offend her.
[roll1] +2 With any Good aligned individuals; trying to gain the full support/assistance of Lady Abigail in his search for information.

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Astrid, Step, Fetch, Clymene, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


"You're looking for him too, then." she says, her voice flat.

"'Tis remarkable, truly," says Abigail, "how you cutters step right out of nowhere soon as there's any talk of this Azarah fellow."


Astrid approaches the proprietor, she takes his hand unsteadily, and she whispers, "May I trouble you one more time? I'm afraid I have had a drop to drink. Be a dear, and have a lass help me with the stairs and a nice hot bath, would you?" With a squeeze, she leaves him with a few coins more.

"Oh, you are very gracious, madame," says the half-elf with a deep bow. "Your arrangements will be ready shortly and I shall have a maid tend to you at once."

A few quick words sees a young tiefling girl with horns and a tail approach Astrid. The girl smiles and awaits Astrid's commands. Other housekeepers head up the stairs to prepare the room and bath.


And through the doors she goes, her shod hooves clacking against the floor and there in the foyer Raila stops, her braided blond tail twitching. She pokes at whatever material the floor is made from, a little cautious that marring its surface may put off the owners. She cautiously looks out from under her bangs, expecting her presence may be challenged...

Seeing the cautious centaur, Abigail smiles warmly, partly happy for the respite from Azarah-hunters, and waves Raila in. "No need to be shy, prime lass! This place's kip for all."


"My lady, Abigail? Forgive us but we are only three days here in this... place" he gestures with a free hand seeming to indicate the city as a whole and not just the Inn, "...perhaps much of the local languages escapes us." he lowers the wrap cover his face a bit, sliding down so that its lowest point covers his chin while the sides still obscure most of his face. He smiles, as he does so a soft glow seems to radiate from him.

"I do not wish to trouble you, nor those in your employ, forgive me. I just wanted to clarify that this Azarah -- he is known of here, in this city? Whoever might be most knowledgeable on this matter if you could direct us to them we would be indebted to you."

"Oh, aye," says Abigail with a sigh, "though it depends on what you mean by 'known'. The well-lanned bloods—that is, well-connected powerful folk—probably know more than I do, yes? Most berks—sorry, clueless sods, I mean, just clueless folk—on the street probably don't know more than the name, if that at all. I hear a bit more 'cause I'm in the tavern business, like I hear this Azarah fellow is some real power of a spellslinger. But that's about all I know. You want the real chant—er, the, uh, truth—you've got to speak with a true blood—I mean, someone who has real connections and real power. Factol Rhys—"

"Madame," says the half-elf with a cough.

"Oh, Councilwoman Rhys. Sorry, 'Factol' is bit of a hush-hush term nowadays. Can't say I blame anyone. Anyhow, seeing as she's the only remaining, you know, actual factol—leader of a, uh, important group—from before the war, you might want to speak with her. I warn you, though, she's a bit... barmy—that's 'insane', mind you."


THE SHATTERED TEMPLE, GROUNDS (Jhessail)

Jhessail is indeed acclimated to the thin air of Sigil, having called it home in another time.


"Oi, what's all this then? You bloods movin' in or movin' out?" she asked, more surprised than angered by their presence.

The mercenaries scrutinize the elan before them. One steps forth and says, "We're here to stay, cutter. We get jink to mind this place. Now, unless you got words for the Friar, I have to very politely ask you to find someplace else to mark." They look like they do not want trouble. Jhessail is obviously an adventurer, and an experienced one at that, and these mercenaries have seen enough to know not to tangle with random folk carrying a town's worth of magic items.

[Archmage1]

Settling at her new table(And shifting her wings in an effort to get comfortable), Eilyra flags down a server, and orders wine and the Carceri snails as she continues to eavesdrop, crossing her legs primly as she positions her tail on her lap(After having it get stepped on once, she doesn't really want to repeat the experience).
Of course he's a goody two shoes. That makes things either much easier, or much harder. But the other might prove to be more helpful. Strong, but probably not that bright. Or maybe not. And the woman's reaction to the centaur... she's definitely nervous. And a Factol? And the last surviving one? Something must have happened while I was... unavailable. But if the factols are gone, that makes this place far more dangerous, unless the chaos is done. Still, nothing usable yet. Perhaps a location for this Councilwoman might be forthcoming?

At that moment, she feels a moment of surprise, and knows that it wasn't her surprise.
Mental surprise? Wonderful.
She promptly starts focusing on complicated mathematical problems as she looks around, to see if anyone is behaving oddly.

[00110111]

Eilyra felt a brief disturbance on her telepathic sense at the time of Astrid's scan. If she's lucky, she may have noticed Astrid's reaction. In any case, she's more than capable of responding on that particular channel.

Astrid smiles in gratitude, offers the Tieflingling her arm, nods in the direction of the stairs, and they both make their way up. "You have such a cute nose, dear. How old are you?"

I give Step a 50% chance to notice the telepathic disturbance since the bulk of the reaction comes for Eilyra. High means he does notice properly enough to say Hi. [roll0]

Astrid really does intend to take a bath while monitoring Faris' progress psionically.

I'm assuming that a 100ft radius telepathic range continues to include the tavern room from even the 4th floor staterooms above. It's okay if it doesn't.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Realizing this could well prove a distraction from what had brought her here in the first place, Jhessail's hackles had been sufficiently raised upon hearing the word Friar--a religious term of some sort, as she understood it--for her to press on.

"Friar, eh? What's the chant on this Friar of yours? He turnin' this, this temple back into a prayer hall?"

She had nearly called it a faction hall, but stopped short of that, figuring so much as even uttering the word might call down the Lady's wrath.

[Gryps2]

If Faris is shocked by Clymene's appearance, she seems equally disconcerted to be dealing with him. She flinches noticeably as Faris turns to address her, and averts her gaze to avoid having their eyes meets. Her voice drops to a quiet rasp as she murmurs a retort to Abigail. "Cutters need things you folk don't."

"I heard that Azarah Tor is known to the Society of Sensation," she says in reply Faris, "But their Hall's been destroyed, and-"

Clymene freezes up as Raila enters. Turning slightly to look at the centaur out of the corner of her eyes, she quickly dons her hood and looks back away. Why was she of all people here? It seemed all too likely that she was still pursuing the Brotherhood, and had somehow managed to follow them here to Sigil. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have noticed Clymene just yet. A part of her would have welcomed the diversion; violence was simpler and more enjoyable than the arduous task of talking to strangers and divining the truth of Azarah Tor, but she knew that it would prove to be counterproductive. No one would want to talk to her if she started a fight instead the inn.

"We can talk more at a table." she says, hurrying past Faris and Abigail to find a free table as far away from the newly entered centauress as possible.

[Archmage1]

Taking a deep breath, and having found that the math calmed her, Eilyra rethinks her plans.
Now probably isn't the time for rampant paranoia. I don't know enough to know if it's justified, and it's possible that enlisting allies might change that. Now, that mental contact is a problem, but I haven't felt anything else, and, more importantly, I don't think my enemies know I'm here, and if they do, there isn't anything immediate they can do about it. And this is such a good opportunity to see if they are useful.
This is why I want to undo... It's hard to tell if my thoughts are being driven by reason, or chaos.
Seeing the hurrying woman looking for a table, Eilyra waves to her, smiling slightly(Without showing her teeth).


Eilyra is a reasonably beautiful elf, wearing a green and gold overdress, with a white underdress, with golden eyes that burn with an inner light, and golden hair that almost looks like it's on fire. She also has pair of leathery wings folded at her back, and a long thin tail, which is currently sitting in her lap. Between her wings, a ruby sits at the end of the pommel of a large sword. A thin silver circlet, marked in ancient elven circles her head, with a pair of similarly marked armbands on her wrists.

[TankLaser007]

He nods to Clymene, and much like her donning of the hood, he raises the wrap from his chin to its former perch upon his mouth and nose. Placing his hand over his heart he bows to Abigail, "You have been most helpful blood Abigail, we are indebted to you." He then falls into step behind Clymene.

[dextercorvia]

Wisp (Step)

Her berries gone, Wisp notes that the muscular Faris has attracted quite the crowd. She can only pick up a few words of the conversation, but she suspects that one of these women is the one that just projected something into her head. Either that or the voice is getting stronger. She rises to move closer, hoping to learn something. As she smooths her gray dress, a new ringlet springs loose and tumbles across her right cheek. She wanders toward the strangers.

"Pardon. I am Wisteria Greymote. I couldn't help but overhear that you are looking for a man called Tor. I might be able to help you with that. I have no interest in the man, myself, but I'm looking for someone else. Perhaps we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."

She smiles slightly as she ignores the sound of the distant voice railing in her head.



I'm not sure if Wisp was able to hear Rhys' name
Listen [roll0]

For any pertinent info on the situation, including what a Cutter is:
Knowledge Arcana [roll1]
Knowledge Planes [roll2]
Knowledge Local [roll3]

[Gryps2]

Clymene regards Eilyra with bewilderment, as if not believing that someone would ever smile at her. After taking a moment to mentally confirm that the seemingly winged elf is indeed gesturing to her, she looks over at Faris, and see Wisp addressing him as well. It seems they've both attracted a lot of attention, causing her to give Raila a quick glance to make sure that she hasn't noticed it.

"Um," she says hesitantly to Faris and Wisp, "I think it best if we sit down to talk." She gestures to Eilyra. "With her."

She addresses Eilyra directly as she sits down. "You did want to speak with me, yes?"

[TankLaser007]

Following behind the warrior women, he is somewhat surprised to see another lady who also seems interested or perhaps has some news of this Tor. Then a some devil invites them to join her. His body language and eyes betray his mediate disgust. Although he has seen many devilish looking creatures in his sparse time here, perhaps like the orc,dwarf or elf this was not, in fact, some creature spawned from the evil realms beyond -- yet simply another type of creation.

He joins the three women sitting at the table, it clear he seems a bit uncomfortable. He shifts frequently in his seat and repositions his spear several times, leaning it against his hip and shoulder, trying to place it across his lap, holding it with one hand and then another. Finally he extends one leg slightly skew, wrapping the back of his calf around the long spear's butt while leaning forward and placing the upper part of the haft in the crook of his arm while his shoulder rests upon the shaft.

He nods his head to the three women. "I am Faris al-Zakhari. Some among my people know me as the Dawn's Spear. We have not been formally acquainted." he pauses. "It seems we share a common interest in this Father of Djinns, the one they call Azarah Tor." he looks to the winged and horned woman. "You are from this city?"

[Archmage1]

Seeing that the maenad and the human, at least, had taken a seat at her table, and seemed willing to talk, she smiles, gently, to the maenad.
And now there here... and let's see what they know. Hm... hard or soft? Hard, I think. I don't want to spend more time here than I need to.
"It's nice to meet you, Miss, and you as well, Miss the second, and you, Faris. I was interested in talking with you."
And boy, isn't he quite the racist. But seemingly trying to learn better... that could be quite useful. Those who's heads and hearts don't align are always so much simpler. Of course, this does work better if he thinks he can redeem me, or that I'm not evil. So, not coming across as the hyper evil demon from hell. Shouldn't be too difficult.
"However..."
She turns her golden eyes to Faris.
"Have you really thought this through? You are seeking Azarah Tor, the Astronomer of the Refuge of Color? Quite the quest, that. Why, I imagine that story has spread all over the planes. Here, in The Cage, the story is everywhere, and here you sit, clueless, and lost."
Seeing the confusion, she pauses.
"Ah, sorry dear, The Cage is Sigil."
With that, she leans back in her chair, still waiting on her snails as she explains, her melodious voice precise, and somewhat cool.
"Now, he's known for granting wishes, yes? And the rumors of such are truly everywhere, even in whatever sheep infested place you call home. But you haven't thought that through, have you. A wish... now that is a thing of great value, is it not? And an unlimited one? Even more so. But everyone knows about it. And yet, here you are. You know you're not the first to come looking for him, yes? And yet... the rumors persist. The wish, seemingly, goes ungranted."
And let's see if his mind includes lust... I hope not, but any tool that works, I suppose. Now is not the time to be pregnant. Or to risk such.
She pauses, and leans forward, bringing her shoulders together slightly, emphasizing her cleavage, and breathing in to continue.
"You're missing the important question. What does he want? Or, to put it another way, what can you afford to pay? And what can you offer him that he can't simply wish for? This is no mere Djinn we're talking about, this is one of the most powerful wizards to ever live. Do you think he's bound to only grant the wishes of others?"
Finished, and finally giving him a chance to talk, she leans back in her chair, and takes another breath, looking serene.
And now, why don't I see if he'll reveal how determined he is. Is he willing to pay any price for this? Looking at his gear, that would be a bargain for him, but for something like this, a price in souls, or worse is likely. And it is always so helpful to have someone else pay for things. Now, if only those snails would arrive...

[00110111]

"Control passes to Her, of course. And now for Rhys' location..." Astrid comments to herself, smiling pleasantly as she makes smalltalk with the tiefling girl assisting her up the stairs. Astrid makes mental note of each of Faris' hangers-on.

Astrid continues to monitor Faris' conversation. She re-manifests Clairvoyant Sense as often as needed, this time within a knot in the ceiling. (I'll stop prompting this; just mentioning that the clandestine spying will continue.)

[tonberryking]

Raila nods to the greeter and proceeds to cautiously enter the inn, still obviously unused to the whole 'buildings' concept. She misses seeing the mercenary she's already encountered in her warfare laden past, for now, proceeding to the largest bar on the first floor rather than a table, unsure of but trying to maintain etiquette. Apparently, she's not sure this is a safe place for her to sit down and would prefer to keep standing.


<"Bread and cheese?"> she asks in Elven to whomever's serving, before glancing around the place. She switches to everything but common if they give her a blank look; it may seem obvious to use that language but without knowing who to trust Raila is willing to appear more as a rube than she actually is... <"And.. I am new to this city. Are there places where wizards gather? I mostly just have experiences with druids and they tend to hole up together when they can..."


Might as well leave this to chance:
[roll0] Listen check, to maybe here something about the other PCs mentioning the wizard
[roll1] to see if she sees anyone she might recognize from another time and place. (Gryps2's character)

[TankLaser007]

The eyes narrow, the only bit of skin showing, but they are a sea of expression. He seems not to notice her feminine wiles, in fact he seems rather out of his depth, perhaps too overwhelmed by the alien environment or predisposed with his search to notice much of anything least of all a table full of beautiful women.

"I have not considered that there would be a specific price. Yet this is a good point. First you find the sea, then you look to the boat. Or so the saying goes among my people." He looks at the three women sitting at the table. "All of you are users of magic of some sort." It is a statement, a fact. His eyes linger on Clymene and his head tilts slightly to the side, "These two, they have 'the look' yet you. You are like no sahir I've sla-- seen before." The light radiating from him slowly dims. "They usually do not wear so much metal, they are more delicate" his eyes momentarily flick towards Eilyra and Wisp, ""this is not you. You have the cut of a true warrior."

He turns back to face Eilyra. "As the most helpful native I have come across thus far how would you advise us to precede in our search? It seems you have more knowledge on this matter than ourselves."

Almost as an after thought he turns to Wisp, "I intended no offence regarding your vocation Lady Greymote, nor yours." he finishes facing Eilyra.

[00110111]

Once Astrid reaches her room, she sends her cute little tiefling friend to the manager with the following message along with one hundred silver coins in a small box stuffed with paper to prevent rattling.

“My Dear Friend, thank you for managing the situation downstairs with such skill. The newcomers don’t know any better. Would you be a dear and help Mr. Faris and his entourage obtain a favorable audience with Councilwoman Rhys? I find them entertaining.

Senatrix von Reinsdorf”

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, FOURTH FLOOR SUITE (Astrid)


Astrid smiles in gratitude, offers the Tieflingling her arm, nods in the direction of the stairs, and they both make their way up. "You have such a cute nose, dear. How old are you?"

The tiefling blushes. "Near old enough for the Martyrs to take me, ma'am." The two ascend three flights of stairs to the fourth floor and turn down a well-lit corridor, leaving behind the sounds of the main room. Two guards stand at attention here, respectfully inclining their heads as Astrid passes. Astrid is brought down the far end of the corridor and shown through a set of beautifully-carved double doors.

Her suite consists of a bedchamber and a solar, both spacious, furnished with antiques, and lavishly decorated. From the solar, large windows supply a panoramic view of Clerk's Ward's skyline, consisting of packed, two- to four-story wood-framed stucco buildings, sprawling plazas with fountains and statues, and the immense, glistening dome and spires of the Hall of Records.

Other servants bow and leave. In the bedchamber is a wood and stone basin, filled with steaming water and fragrant with rose petals scattered on the water's surface.

The Great Hall is outside of Astrid's telepathy's range. The tiefling bows, takes Astrid's message, and leaves.

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Step, Fetch, Clymene, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


<"Bread and cheese?">

At first the serving girl gives Raila a blank stare, but upon repetition in Common she leaves with the order. 5 sp. Soon enough, Raila is brought a plate of sourdough, sliced cheese, and plum jam. The cheese is streaked with black and red veins, and tastes sharp and hearty.


<"And.. I am new to this city. Are there places where wizards gather? I mostly just have experiences with druids and they tend to hole up together when they can..."

"Er," says the girl, "I dunno, prime. I just work here..."

Raila hears the others' conversation as she passes.
In the planes, where belief is power, it is not enough to know only cosmology. Eilyra knows as well, in broad strokes, the major powers of the planes, and the tiefling up until recently known as Factol Rhys is the head and representative of the Transcendent Order, an enigmatic organization now headquartered in Elysium.

The longest-lived mortals might recall a time when Rhys was Evil, with a capital E. But even great beings change, and the Rhys most everyone knows is a serene, charismatic leader and mediator, a true paragon of neutrality and action. Indeed, the factol is a fitting representative of an organization whose philosophy is often summarized as 'becoming one with the multiverse' (though you would likely see yourself corrected if you asked a cipher—slang for a member of the Order—whether that is an accurate description).

Rhys is also the only factol to have survived the Faction War unscathed. This has only increase the aura of mystique surrounding her. There is also no question either that she is powerful, and even tanar'ri balors and baatezu pit fiends would think twice before facing her directly.
I'll leave it to you two to work out how much recognition you have of one-another. Raila rolled a 26 to recognize, but I've no idea what check she attemped.
Wisp manages to hear the conversation and catches Rhys' name. It is a name she has only passing familiarity with. The name crops up in various texts on the planes, usually in mentioning a philosophical planar organization called the Transcendent Order. It is not clear to Wisp what the Order's goals or beliefs are, but sure enough, Rhys is its leader, and one's organization does not span multiple worlds unless one is quite dangerous in one's own right.

Wisp has no trouble discerning that 'cutter' is a form of address that is casually respectful. She quickly understands its usage in sentences, for instance, "Hey, cutter, what's the chant?" roughly translates to "Hey there friend, what's the talk of the town?" though, based on usage, it seems 'cutter' typically refers to one who is street-smart.

THE SHATTERED TEMPLE, GROUNDS (Jhessail)


"Friar, eh? What's the chant on this Friar of yours? He turnin' this, this temple back into a prayer hall?"

"Friar Muriov Garianis," says the mercenary, "and we don't hear much, cutter. We just stand out here. Not to mention, place hasn't been a temple for some time. The Lost made their case here since, well, since forever. And now that the Lady's told them to pike it, it's just us."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra looks at the server as he passes by, but, alas, no delicious sounding snails seem to be in her future, and with that disappointment done, she turns her attention back to Faris.
Hm... so, Lust isn't his sin. Excellent. He doesn't seem to be wealthy, so desire isn't really his thing, and he's willing to cede control to me, so... pride or anger seem likely. His gear is well cared for, but he doesn't put on much of a show, but then, he was rather insistent on his name, but he seems to be suppressing hatred, for me? And magic users in general? Something brought that on. Which seems potentially important. La, things for later.
Still leaning back in her chair, she frowns as he disparages her, but makes no other reaction.
Hm... interesting. He assumes a lack of armor in a social situation implies vulnerability. He is definitely a man of many conflicts. His companions, however, seem rather wiser. But I've never heard of a house of Greymote, so, new, or minor. Likely herself only, with few external resources to call on here. Younger child? Rebel? Imposter? And he thinks I'm a native? Still? I wonder how long I can keep that going, without ever actually saying I am...
"No offense taken, Faris."
Her tone strongly suggests otherwise, but she continues speaking.
"As for proceeding, assuming you are committed?"
She pauses for a moment, looking for confirmation, before she continues.
"Then I'd say you have three real options. You might try following the rumor, and seeking the Sensates. They'll probably charge you, in either wealth or memory, but likely not too much. Second, as Abigail suggested, Councilwoman Rhys, or, really, any of the councilors might be able to help. They'll likely charge more, but offer more immediate assistance. Third, you could try consulting a sage, and seeing where that gets you. I'd recommend the Sensates, as while their aid might not be the best possible, their price is likely to be more palatable, and they're not likely to cause you further problems. Of course, they do tend to use a lot of magic, and their preferred price is experience, a memory, shared via magic."
She looks straight into Faris's eyes as she speaks.
"Would that be a problem for you?"

[Gryps2]

Clymene looks over to Faris as he addresses her in turn, and replies simply. "My name is Clymene." She didn't find much pleasure in being acknowledged as a true warrior, not did she consider herself a spellcaster, but Faris's comment still said much. Cardiff, her recently deceased master, had a special word for people like him (particularly people who had monikers like "Dawn Spear" that they used themselves). But despite what her master's judgment would have been, she felt rather positively about him. Despite his flowery speech, he said what he meant, and didn't seem to be playing any games with her.

That couldn't be said about Eilyra, who sounded a lot like the clients that she and Cardiff used to take. Her speech was like a serpent, winding through rhetoric and coiling back around itself. Normally she'd drop out of conversations like this and let Cardiff handle it, and explain things to her later. But he was not around, so she had to untangle Eilyra's words herself. She kept talking about prices, so...

"What is it that you want?" she interjects. "You talk of prices, and you have yet to name yours."

[dextercorvia]

Wisp is not bothered in the least by being called delicate. She deduces from his slip and his manner that Faris is some sort of witch hunter. Even that doesn't seem to bother her. Her smile turns cold, however, at Eilyra's obvious display. The merchant knows she is pretty enough to turn an eye, but she's never made a show of herself to influence a deal. I'd have to unfasten a dozen buttons to show half as much.

Her scowl fades as the talk turns to price. "Yes. Let's discuss price. This wizard you seek, I can help you find him. However, being so delicate, I prefer to be accompanied by a true warrior or two." Her eyes twinkle slightly at Clymene as she jests. "My last two warriors have not been so true. The first left after I made him a very rich man. That was unexpected but tolerable. More recently, my guard decided he wasn't getting rich quickly enough and stole from me. I've tracked him to a portal leading here, but the trail was cold when I got to Sigil. As our differing talents complement each other, so perhaps might our different quests. I realize of course, that your own quest may be too urgent for you to aid me in my need."

Wisp's eyes are large and hopeful. Inside, she directs a thought at the winged woman on the chance Eilyra can hear, Wrong play, devil.

[TankLaser007]

Faris' face turns one after the other to the women as they speak. When they have finished he looks to Clymene, placing his hand over his chest he bows slightly, "It is an honour Clymene." he then looks to Eilyra, "It seems both Clymene and Lady Greymote are more experienced in such matters than ourselves. However a fakir once said; 'He who looses himself in the bargain has gained nothing'."

He pauses, a moment to gather his thoughts, "I cannot give what is not mine alone, memories are of such things that one lacks sole dominion over them; from the time we enter into the world we touch and are touched by the lives of others. This is not something I am able to consistent to, one cannot sell his neighbours camels without first being given leave."

He looks to Wisp, "Lady Greymote, if you are in need of assistance or you fear violence then do not worry about coin, I will not allow you to come to harm while in my company. Should you require specific aide in something and it is not in conflict with the strictures of my people or my path then I will help you to the best of my capability."

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Not since forever and that's the dark of it," Jhessail replied, unable to fully contain her displeasure at the implication that the Defiers would have had anything to do with the place when it was an actual temple for some long-dead power of portals. "Now if you're through rattlin' your bone-box, I'd like to meet this cenobite and get the true chant from him and not this piece of cake you're feedin' me."


Jhessail isn't trained in either Knowledge (local) or (religion), so this is just a straight Int roll to see if she's ever heard of this Friar Muriov Garianis.

[roll0]

[00110111]

I suppose I should have rolled a diplomacy check (taking 10 and +14 from a divine insight spell for a check total of 50) with her last message.

Astrid will keep an eye out for the girl to deliver the message in the Great Hall.

Alone and undressed, Astrid lowers herself into the warm aromatic water with a long sigh. She drinks in the room and the view. "Almost perfect." she says to herself. "Just one more thing..." With a minor gesture, the doors to her stateroom fly open. "Boys!" she calls out to the guards. Softly, "...your lady needs a foot rub." She admires her shapely legs as she continues to monitor the conversation downstairs. The mist from the bath thickens.

"Such posturing," she shakes her hair loose over the side of the bathtub. She flashes a mischievous smile. "Not that there is any particular rush."

Open/close on the doors. Once to open and again to shut them if the guards are amenable.

Obscuring mist for a bit of decency... at least for the first 6 minutes.

Charm Person on each guard as they enter within line of effect. Will DC 14 negates; 6 hours. She uses mindsight to target them through the mist. Verbal components are whispered.

Taking 10 on diplomacy for a check total of 36 to turn up the innuendo if the evening carries on.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra bows her head slightly in acknowledgement of Clymene's name.
"How wonderful to meet you, Clymene. As for prices... wishes are rather valuable, as I feel certain you're aware. We all have things we desire. But for a simple conversation, and a few opinions? I believe lunch would be reasonable?"
I suppose things are approaching the names part of the day. Hm... I do rather like my name, but it would be best, I think, to not mention my title. Of course, no one would acknowledge such a thing now, but with the death of my mother while I was imprisoned, and the death of my sister and her children shortly after being released... the title falls to me. For what little it's worth.
While Greymote speaks, clearly seeking to take control, Eilyra struggles to retain her serenity. It wouldn't do to grin, after all.
Oh, the poor little thing. So offended that she tries such a transparent ploy. And one that was doomed to failure. Sarya could do better than that when she was two, although she was rather gifted in such things. I almost feel sorry for her. Wait... no, that would be the hunger. Service here really is quite poor.

There is no indication that she heard Wisp's thought.

After Greymote finishes speaking, and Faris has a chance to respond, Eilyra smiles once more, and simply ignores Greymote's words as she gives a warning.
"I fear that I must warn you, Faris, that the price of the Councilwoman is likely to be far higher than memories. The memories would be merely shared, and you would choose which ones to offer. Surely you have some that belong to you, and you alone? If not, I imagine that they might find some of mine to be interesting, if we can come to an agreement about a price."
If only they took them, instead of copying them. Still, such a ending would be unacceptable.
She pauses, before looking directly at the warrior.
"However, you mentioned a path, and strictures? It might be helpful to know what they are? That way, I don't accidentally offer information that leads you into breaking them? Or suggest such a path?"
If he would follow such a thing blindly, then he likely takes pride in doing so. If I end up needing to break him, forcing him to break them might work. Of course, such breakage can be rather messy.

[TankLaser007]

Faris straightens a bit. His posture becomes more formal, rigid, military. His eyes seem to glaze over as if focused on something far in the distance, something only he can see.

"I am but a reflection, half of a man; from before I was born I was not alone, nor the day I died. So no, I am afraid I have no memories which are wholly mine to share. Least of all with some strange coven. As for my path, it is not for all. I have forsaken much of life. I do not eat. Nor drink. Nor have I need for breath." Slowly a dim nimbus of light begins to grow around him pulsing slightly as a flame in a light breeze, until he seems to radiate a soft golden glow like a lantern.

He continues, "I no longer feel the searing heat of the sun, nor the chill of night or ice. I do not hunger nor thirst, and because the body does not desire such things the heart becomes free in the service of others. I have no desire for neither dihrim or dinnar, and because of that I cannot be bought like some stallion in the souk. I am free as the wind upon the sands. The most valuable thing which one can hold, which I own is this," he lightly taps the but of the spear on the inns floor, "and it is not even mine..." his eyes take on a sheen as if moist with tears, he pauses for a moment then continues, "...that of the greatest worth in my possession cannot be touched, stolen, nor bought, only lost."

"The people of the Cage... An apt name, I think, they may find my ways simple, perhaps they think us backward or little it is of no concern to us. When one frees themselves from the prison they have created, be it of gold or iron, fear or envy, lust or hate, then they will have no need to ask of us what it is that binds and restricts us, because it is only in our servitude we are freed, while those who see themselves to be free are the true slaves -- slaves to their whims and desires, hostage to an insatiable hunger that will devour them."

"This path is not for you, I think, not yet. Perhaps in time when the breast has widened and the glass has been emptied, perhaps then we can discuss such things -- in earnest."

He relaxes a bit, his eyes regain their former focus, he seems suddenly self-concious, if his face were not swathed in cotton one might think he was blushing. The golden light slowly begins to dim, until it is no longer visible.

[Archmage1]

Noting the straightening of Faris's posture, Eilyra frowns, clearly concerned.
Indoctrination? Change in his stance... he's reflecting how he was taught to sit?
As he starts reciting, her expression only grows more concerned, crossing over into horrified.
That... that has to be the worst philosophy ever. He's giving up his spirit, what makes him who he is, in exchange for power. In exchange for sublimating his will to others, the ones who grant him this power. And he thinks this is a good thing. I... I've seen evil, and the consequences of not thinking things through, but however cruel my family could be, whatever crimes Sarya committed after she was freed, she never took the will of others. She might have murdered them, but this man... he's closer to a zombie than a man. He's lost everything that made him human. And he believes it to be a good thing. The righteous always seem to be far darker than any demon, but believe themselves to be so pure.
After he finishes, and suggests that she might desire to walk his path, she firmly shakes her head.
"No, I don't think so. My mother made a very similar choice on my behalf before I was born. I would not wish what you described upon my worst enemy."
Her voice is flat, and final, clearly unhappy.
That is, if I had any living enemies. Regardless, If this is what would have happened had my mother sought a Solar rather than a Balor... So like me, but he chose this. I just hope it was knowingly. But from his actions... it was forced.
After a few moments, the half fiend takes in a breath, and continues, her expression growing calmer.
"But, I suppose it is your choice. Regardless, those are the options I can see. As I said, if you would like further assistance, we can discuss price."
She pauses, then continues, speaking quickly.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't charge anything along the lines of souls, or memories, or anything like that. I'd want something more financial, or favors. I suppose a split might work, depending on the exact nature of the wish or wishes."

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, FOURTH FLOOR SUITE (Astrid)


Alone and undressed, Astrid lowers herself into the warm aromatic water with a long sigh. She drinks in the room and the view. "Almost perfect." she says to herself. "Just one more thing..." With a minor gesture, the doors to her stateroom fly open. "Boys!" she calls out to the guards. Softly, "...your lady needs a foot rub."

A disembodied voice across the mist, seemingly unconcerned with its sudden appearance indoors, calls out, "Sorry, miss, we're supposed to mind the corridor. Should we call a manservant or maid for you?"

It occurs to me that Astrid didn't have a small box, a quill, ink, or paper on her when she sent the message down. I'd say it doesn't matter here since these amenities are easy to find in the room she rented, but just a thought.

The RAW is pretty unambiguous; Mindsight does not allow one to see, only sense. This means charm person can't target people across the total concealment granted by obscuring mist, and fails on attempt.

Diplomacy: 10 + 15 (ranks) + 4 (Cha) + 4 (synergy) + 3 (circlet of persuasion) + 13 (divine insight spell, CL 8 with Practiced Spellcaster feat) = 49. It's not important, but I'm short by 1 on your count, let me know where the 1 is coming from?

Astrid's clairvoyant sense gives her a bird's-eye view of the great hall. Given the size of the room, the ceiling is pretty far from nearly everything. She would have to either reposition her clairvoyant sense or make Listen checks at -3 (due to distance) to hear voices near the entryway. That said, merely taking 10 is sufficient to hear anything that is not whispered.

The tiefling maid hurries down the stairs with the message box. The half-elf opens the box and begins reading the message. The maid looks at him expectantly. With a chuckle, the half-elf gives the maid half of the coins (a stunning sum of five gold). The maid gives the half-elf a tight hug and bounds off to the back rooms. Returning to the message and finishing reading it, the half-elf waves over Abigail. They hurriedly whisper to one another.

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Step, Fetch, Clymene, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)



"Don't worry, I wouldn't charge anything along the lines of souls, or memories, or anything like that. I'd want something more financial, or favors. I suppose a split might work, depending on the exact nature of the wish or wishes."

As Eilyra speaks, a server hurries over with a plate of steaming Carceri snails and places it on the table before her. Its rich aroma reaches her nose instantly. "Sorry we're late, cutter." He places on the table a stoppered, opaque glass bottle. "Greengage cider. Courtesy of the house."


THE SHATTERED TEMPLE, GROUNDS (Jhessail)

Jhessail has not heard of a 'Muriov', but the Garianis family is familiar enough. They are a Lower Ward mafia, and while the brunt of their operations are legitimate businesses, typically warehouses, tanneries, ironworks, and the like, it is generally understood that they engage in illegal activities, though their careful nature ensures few really know what is happening behind their closed doors.


"Now if you're through rattlin' your bone-box, I'd like to meet this cenobite and get the true chant from him and not this piece of cake you're feedin' me."

The mercenery shakes his head. "Sorry, cutter. Not about to disturb the boss over randoms who twig to this place."

[Archmage1]

Distracted from the conversation by the appearance of her rather delicious looking food, Eilyra turns to the server, and snifs, but she accepts the food, and the offered cider.
She then uses the cutlery, and extracts a snail, before biting it, revealing her mouth of sharp teeth. After she finishes chewing, and swallows, she speaks.
"Hm... not too bad. A pity about the wait."

[dextercorvia]

He looks to Wisp, "Lady Greymote, if you are in need of assistance or you fear violence then do not worry about coin, I will not allow you to come to harm while in my company. Should you require specific aide in something and it is not in conflict with the strictures of my people or my path then I will help you to the best of my capability."

Wisp's shoulders drop slightly, releasing a tension she didn't know she had felt, "My thanks will be eternal. I understand that monetary compensation does not hold your interest. But, for the promise you've given, I'd be happy to pay a memory to the Sensates on your behalf. I find myself overridden with them at times, and wouldn't mind sharing a piece of that burden, especially if it helps you achieve your quest."


"Hm... not too bad. A pity about the wait."

Wisp looks at the winged one out of the side of her eyes, "You should try the berries. They are a trifle tart, but I trust that is to your taste."

[Archmage1]

Listening to the words of Greymote, Eilyra grins inwardly.
And so she binds herself as Feris's servant. And Feris seems rather easy to manipulate. This is a good thing. And she thinks she's being clever. I wonder how far her pride can go?
Once Greymote addresses her directly, Eilyra smiles at her, and shakes her head.
"No, no, child, don't worry. I wouldn't want to take your favorite food away from you. I'm sure you'll enjoy them far more than I."

[tonberryking]

And she had been doing so well up to that point.

She was already in a surly mood having to switch to common, and while the food did raise her spirits some, Raila's disposition sinks considerably when a random glance across the inn chances over a hooded form. ...Surely no. It couldn't be the same hood--and more importantly the same person-- whom she fought violently against in the past. Something about the lighting in the bar reminds her of the time she fought that savage mercenary in during the Oil Rainy Season debacle who was wearing the exact same cloak over her shoulders...

This is not a place of war, this is not a place of war, this is not a place of war, thisisnotaplaceofwar...

To hell with it. Draining the jam jar like it was a drink to knock back in a sudden fury, Raila abandons the bar and marches herself towards the table Clymene rests at, not caring who the others are, her braided and constrained tail flicking angrily, her hooves intentionally loud. She has to remove her offhand from the hilt of her katana, lest she be tempted to draw it. Her smoldering molten gaze is enough of a weapon to bear down at the woman.... for now.

<"What in the hells of the Eight Devils are YOU doing here???"> she demands, first in Sylvan, and then with a frustrated shake of her head, delievers the same line in her heavily accented common, no doubt leaving out inflections that were doubtless foul obscenities in her original tongue.

"Don't tell me the Cultists are upstairs, drinking elbow grease or whatever vile concoctions sputter out of their pollution wells..."

[TankLaser007]

Faris shifts to look at the centaur. He had seen her for only a few moments before when she entered, but like so many things in this strange city in a bottle he hadn't really had a chance to process it.

He looks between the two, the centaur and the red-eyed Clymene. It seems there is some history. She seems to be well armed. A sword, bow, armour and... interesting. All of them are wizards of a sort.

[Gryps2]

Clymene sits in relative silence as the attention focuses primarily on Faris. Wisp at least seemed to extend her offer to her as well, by Eilyra seemed fixated on the stolid man. Based on the cleavage she showed earlier, Clymene guesses it was because she desired him. She feels a tinge of envy; no one has ever desired her, or loved her. Her own parents abandoned her, leaving her to a series of keepers who either sought to contain her or exploit her. There was no reason to expect anything different now, she supposes, bitterly.

Before she can respond to the offers, Raila comes cantering back into her life, causing Clymene to freeze up for a moment. A maelstrom of emotions surged up within her: shame, regret, anger, bloodlust. Here was a chance to turn this awkward social situation, where she felt excluded and powerless, into combat, where she could forget her problems and indulge herself in the wine of violence. But a sudden memory stayed her hand.

It was back on her last job. She stood alone in a sea of grass, a small settlement in front of her. She, Cardiff and some others had been sent ahead to wreck havoc in the centaurs' back line, burning supplies, wiping out villages, and keeping their warriors off balance. Cardiff and the others were hiding in ambush along the most likely path the centaurs would run; the settlement was all noncombatants: herdsmen, healers, the elderly, and children, all of whom would try to flee when Clymene started her attack.

Blood on her hands. The pavilions and huts of the centaurs ablaze from her alchemist's fire. An elderly druid had tried to stand against her, and now he was cleaved in twain at the belly. At the start of expedition, Cardiff has proposed a game: the one who managed to cut a centaur in half closest the boundary between their human and horse halves would win. Clymene didn't care about the prize, but Cardiff would be displeased if she didn't play.

The village was emptied now. Cardiff and the others had arrived, and Cardiff had what looked like a dead foal slung over his shoulder. He dropped it in front of Clymene, along with half a child: together they made a whole centaur, painstakingly split where fur met skin. Cardiff grinned broadly, hefting his axe over his shoulder.

"I win."

Coming back to the present, Clymene shudders and looks up miserably at Raila with sullen eyes. "I split from them when we reached Sigil. I won't work for them any more." she says, hoarsely. "If you want to try and kill me, let's go outside. I don't want to fight here."

[TankLaser007]

Faris leans Dawn against the table. He rises slowly and dliberately, placing one hand upon his chest and the other he extends to the Centaur as a soft glow begins to fill the space between them, "I am Faris al-Zakhari, I do not know what has occurred between you, yet I am hopeful some means of amends might be made without resorting to violence..."


[roll0]

[00110111]

"One of each would be divine." Astrid coos, playing with her hair. "And let them have strong hands."

Upon spotting the girl with her manager, she sneaks her little eye and ear under the lip of a nearby countertop.

"Now, how dutiful is this manager and his master? Their cooperation gives them a clear advantage over the newcomers."

She smirks as tensions escalate downstairs, apparent even from this distance. She wiggles her toes underwater. Astrid dismisses stray plots and stratagems in favor of letting things play out naturally. "This is a relatively safe baseline test to see how they fare without direct intervention." She sighs to herself, "The last group was *so* high maintenance."

Astrid casts Guidance on herself.

Astrid repositions her Clairvoyant Sense to spy on the half-elf's conversation (taking 10 on listen, total 15 with guidance). She then takes a quick peek in a random back room before returning to the Great Hall and the party's conversation.

[Archmage1]

With Faris seemingly unable to discuss price, Eilyra is almost glad when the centauress charges up.
8 Devils? Usually, there are 9 devils, not 8. Hm... perhaps she's referring to a specific group, or a group of evil gods? But this should be entertaining.
Undeterred by the prospect of violence not far from her, Eilyra tentatively tries the cider, before eating another snail, and watching the entertainment unfold.
No, Faris, don't take the fun away! Clearly she's her dastardly foe, and after searching for her for eons, she finally found her, and can seek the revenge for her dead puppy, fluffy! I should be more serious, but this looks to be too much fun! And I don't seem to be getting the idea of hiring me through. I wonder if they'll actually fight, or if the manager or Faris will sort them out. Less fun if they do, but I can't have everything.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail was less than pleased with her reception, and even less pleased if this was indeed a mafia scheme operating out of this solemn location. That said, as powerful as she is, they are many and she is but one, and she had bigger fish to catch anyway so this could wait.

"That's a fair cop. I'd have taken you all for clueless sods if you'd let any random cony-catcher waltz in and bob the place. Not that I'm just any random, or a cony-catcher for that matter, but you wouldn't ken to that. Just tell your boss Jhessail Zhodani sends her regards."

With that, she disappeared in a flash, as though she had never been there.


I'll Dimension Door out of here and start making my way to the Clerk's Ward and the inn. Might as well join the main cast. :smallsmile:

[dextercorvia]

"She is not going to try to kill you Clymene." Wisp holds out her hands in a light shrug as she rises from her seat and turns to face the centaur. "Whatever has passed between you in the past is over. I am currently negotiating the price of her sword, so I can attest to her being currently unemployed. Your quarrel is clearly with whomever her employer was."

Her gaze drifts from hoof to hair, taking in the majesty of this new warrior, and an idea comes to her. "Perhaps, you too, find yourself currently unencumbered except for this one matter. I think we might be able to come to an arrangement. I would be happy to help you track down this Grease Cult in exchange for your help in a small matter. "

[Archmage1]

Eilyra seems to be suppressing laughter at Greymote's recruiting efforts.
She still hasn't figured it out, has she. This isn't a place to hire guards.
After a few moments of recovery, she speaks up.
"Dear, this isn't the place to recruit guards. Especially when your a known miser."

[tonberryking]

"Feh. Not that I expected you to become a nun after the carnage you helped with, but that's hardly good news." The centaur speaks common with a good bit of spite; either she had trouble learning it (and)/or she isn't a fan, generally, of those who would speak it. The way others come to her aid so quickly lead Raila to assume that this is a mercenary inn, and from the looks of it she is gradually losing more respect for anybody in this place. "I suppose this isn't the place to pick a fight, but don't think a reckoning isn't in your future, butcher..."

Starting to turn, Raila looks down at Wisp with an indifferent scorn, clacking her left foreleg on the floor. As if answering her is an afterthought she doesn't really care about "...And anyway, I'm not looking to join a mercenary group. Currently I'm busy seeking a specific wizard to help fix the mess her prior leash holders caused in my homeland. I'm not party to join whatever war crimes you mercenaries plan to commit next."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra considers for a moment, before speaking.
Best time to acquire an ally, then. And see if anyone else here speaks sylvan. If I recall correctly, centaurs appreciate honesty, so...
<Fluent Sylvan>
"It would seem that everyone at this table is interested in such. Of course, they're all dancing around the point, but that's fairly usual, isn't it? From the sounds of it, your goal here is similar to mine. Different places, of course, but undoing the events of the past? That, it seems, we share an interest in."

[dextercorvia]

"Dear, this isn't the place to recruit guards. Especially when your a known miser."

"Look around you, fiend. Everyone here is looking for something. At least I am transparent about the price for my assistance." She lets the miser comment pass.


Starting to turn, Raila looks down at Wisp with an indifferent scorn, clacking her left foreleg on the floor. As if answering her is an afterthought she doesn't really care about "...And anyway, I'm not looking to join a mercenary group. Currently I'm busy seeking a specific wizard to help fix the mess her prior leash holders caused in my homeland. I'm not party to join whatever war crimes you mercenaries plan to commit next."

"Suit yourself. Perhaps you'll have better luck working with the devil woman, then."

[Gryps2]

Clymene frowns as Faris and Wisp both literally stand up for her. Wisp, at very least, wanted her sword, but Faris seemed motivated only be some misplaced virtue, which only served to make her feel worse. The only relief she gains is from the fact that Raila does not seem interested in pressing for her head, thus sparing Faris from being wounded or worse trying to protect someone who so richly deserved whatever was coming for her.

Raila's next words snap her back from her funk. "Then you are seeking Azarah Tor, the same as me." she says. "Our paths are then bound to intertwine, whether you seek it or not."

Rising from her chair, she dares to finally look the centauress in the eye. "I know what you want to wish for. I won't ask for your forgiveness, but if you'll tolerate me, I'll see that you get your wish." She lowers her eyes again. "What I did to your people was wrong." She slumps back down into her chair again. "So, decide who you wish to go with. I will follow you."

[dextercorvia]

Wisp is shocked. "Seriously?! You are all looking for the same Wizard? Three," a glance at the half-demon, "maybe four people looking for the same Archwizard just happen to be in the same inn at the same time. Do you have any idea of the odds..."

Her face turns white. "I think it would be best if we all left here. Now. Reclusive archmages have contingencies in place for when too many people start asking around. Think about it. How did you end up here? A lucky tip, no doubt. Not so lucky, I think."

With that, she pivots toward the door and begins walking toward the exit.

[Archmage1]

Seeing the suddenly terrified Greymote leaving, Eilyra laughs, a surprisingly melodious sound, before speaking, almost sighing out her words.
"Oh, dear, don't be ridiculous."
She pauses for a moment, before she continues, speaking like a teacher to a young child.
"That's actually good news, not bad. If Mister Tor wished us to be dead, we would be dead. No question. But if we're all summoned, that gives us a much, much better chance of success."
She pauses once again, frowning momentarily, before she continues, her tone more cheerful.
"After all, we won't be competing with everyone who's interested in a wish. Just those the wizard chose to call. And if not... he'll have far too many targets to go after anyway. And this entire thing would be pointless."
And that would mean that he chose us for a reason. If we can work out that reason... Regardless, there is no evidence either way. But making Greymote seem foolish? Devaluing her word? Worth it. With luck, even if she is right, no one will remember it was her idea first. And if not, I pointed out the alternative. She does seem to have a special hatred of me. Issues with demons in the past? A dislike of my initial behavior? Although that, at least, seems to be insufficient.
And then, of course, she continues eating her snails, and drinking her cider.

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, FOURTH FLOOR SUITE (Astrid)


"One of each would be divine." Astrid coos, playing with her hair. "And let them have strong hands."

"Right away, miss."

Setting the clairvoyant sense nearer Abigail and the half-elf, Astrid catches their whispered conversation.

The half-elf is midsentence. "...returning client. Madame, we should at least try."

Abigail seems unsure. "And if the factol's piked off?"

"A matter best handled delicately, to be sure."

"You can't peel a high-up that canny."

"No, madame! No deception. We merely present ourselves to the chairwoman and let her know that, 'Some gentlefolk have asked the honor of meeting you.' I suggest nothing more."

"...Alright. This ride's got me peery, but alright. Be the smoothest, cleanest cutter on this side of the ward, got it?"

"Of course, madame! I shall be the very soul of hospitality and discretion."
A few minutes pass, then Astrid hears noises outside her suite, light footsteps followed closely by the sound of hooves on the wood floor. A voice filters through the mist. A deep, male voice. "Oh, sod it! What is this blasted fog?"

Then a familiar voice, the tiefling maid's. "This-a-way, now, cutter. Wouldn't want to keep the lady waiting."

Emerging from the mist are the tiefling and a new creature, from the waist up a handsome, liveried human man with curling ram horns growing from his forehead, but below a large, fuzzy goat. He sees Astrid, averts his eyes politely but unblushingly, and bows. "Madame. A massage? A foot rub?"


THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Step, Fetch, Clymene, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Fetch catches a whispered conversation between the half-elf greeter and Abigail, the inn's owner.

The half-elf is midsentence. "...returning client. Madame, we should at least try."

Abigail seems unsure. "And if the factol's piked off?"

"A matter best handled delicately, to be sure."

"You can't peel a high-up that canny."

"No, madame! No deception. We merely present ourselves to the chairwoman and let her know that, 'Some gentlefolk have asked the honor of meeting you.' I suggest nothing more."

"...Alright. This ride's got me peery, but alright. Be the smoothest, cleanest cutter on this side of the ward, got it?"

"Of course, madame! I shall be the very soul of hospitality and discretion."

Wisp is shocked. "Seriously?! You are all looking for the same Wizard? Three," a glance at the half-demon, "maybe four people looking for the same Archwizard just happen to be in the same inn at the same time. Do you have any idea of the odds..."

Her face turns white. "I think it would be best if we all left here. Now. Reclusive archmages have contingencies in place for when too many people start asking around. Think about it. How did you end up here? A lucky tip, no doubt. Not so lucky, I think."

The half-elf greeter, having just finished conversing with the inn's owner, walks to the table where Clymene, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris have congregated, passing Wisp on the way. Perhaps on another day, he would have found Wisp's sudden departure a cause for concern, but today his mind races with possibilities.

Approaching the group, he clears his throat, bows with his appointment book tucked in his arms, and says, "Sir al-Zakhari, do these people accompany you? An opportunity has... arisen, should you wish to speak to Chairwoman Rhys of the Sigil Advisory Council. Merely say the word, and I shall see what I can do."

CLERK'S WARD, ADMINISTRATOR'S DISTRICT (Jhessail)

It does not take long for Jhessail to find her way to Clerk's Ward. The air is cleaner than the Lower Ward's and the otherwise hazy skies are unpolluted by smog, though even from this distance the monolithic Great Foundry can be seen hugging the upward curve of Sigil's ring. The district itself is clean, well-lit, and well-paved, and, as its name might suggest, a place where administrative and other civic activities occur. The Guildhall Ward is close by. A little further on is the Market Ward.

The busy streets of Clerk's Ward are filled with—you guessed it—clerks, carrying piles of scrolls and record books, talking to the various denizens of Sigil, typically the middle- to upper-class sort, or doing business at local shops and bureaus. There are also other cityfolk, most commoners, domestic servants, craftsmen, and artisans. Some live here, some work here, but most are here for specific reasons.

The buildings in this ward have timber-framed beige stucco walls and clay tile roofs, are four- to five-stories tall, and are packed in a haphazard manner. However, the streets are wide, and many spacious plazas with fountains and statues dot the ward. Currently Jhessail stands in the Administrator's District. She is within a stone's throw of the Whole Note Inn. A short walk away are the Hall of Speakers District, the Hall of Records District, and Little Arcadia. The great dome and sparkling spire of the Hall of Speakers rises from behind rows of buildings. The immense dark stone tower that is the Hall of Records can be seen in the distance in the opposite direction, no less imposing.

The skyscraping silver towers of the Civic Festhall of the Festhall District can be seen farther past Little Arcadia. Far enough that, through the inner width-wise curve of Sigil's torus, one can see the vague but colossal groundwork of the Festhall above the roofs of interposing buildings.

[TankLaser007]

Faris seems more surprised by the interjection of the manager than by the confrontation between the Centaur and Clymene. "If you would allow me to confer with these ladies, I will answer you shortly..."

He turns to those still present and looks towards the retreating Wisp, seeing if this new development has been noticed. "I know nothing of the local politics, even less of the customs here. I would think it unwise for me to precede to meet such a notable without first having, at the least, understood a bit more about her station, the etiquettes of such meetings and what might be expected of one in such a situation -- not toe mention how, exactly this 'council woman' might be linked to the Father of Djjins."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra also seems to be taken somewhat aback by the manager's offer.
I... what? There's no way Rhys has asked to meet us, so someone has done so on our behalf? Hopefully, we can get out of it? Drawing her attention would probably be bad.
Once Faris asks about Rhys, Eilyra frowns, before she starts to speak, her voice calm.
"Councilwoman Rhys, one of the most powerful individuals associated with Sigil, she's currently the head of the Transcendent Order, a group who's philosophy is described, somewhat inaccurately, as becoming one with the universe. She was once quite evil, but over the years, she's shifted her viewpoint, and is now considered to be more neutral. She's charismatic, and most of her work is as a mediator. It's possible that she is associated with Azarah Tor, but I don't have any information one way or the other. The Transcendent Order is centered in Elysium. If you chose to go there, I won't be accompanying you."

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail took in the sights of the Clerk's Ward, which seemed to be as bustling with bureaucratic busybodies as ever. There was the Civic Festhall in the distance; she couldn't quite tell from here as to how it had weathered the storm, but from what she recalled the Sensates hadn't fared too well during the fighting. Shame, that, since she always had a soft spot for them--she easily could have gone down the path of hedonism after what she'd seen, especially for how addicting the Festhall could be, but it just goes to show that knowledge cannot exist merely for its own sake.

At any rate, if this wish-granting wizard really did have ties to the Sensates, or whatever's left of them, this was where to begin. She would start with Abigail's place, which she spotted just over yonder, and seeing it looked just as it had before the War Jhessail wondered how exactly a bard like her had been able to keep it safely intact. That wonder turned to awe as she wandered over and entered the Whole Note Inn.

"Blimey! This place hasn't changed a whit, or I'm barmy as a Spire god!" she exclaimed, heedless of the other patrons. "Oi, where's that songslinger? She still running this bath tub?"

She appears to be a youngish, red-headed human woman, in good shape and wearing a tight red vest and black trousers with a green cloak drawn back, carrying a purple crystalline longbow like a staff, and another purple crystal worn like a pendant--except it had no visible chain attached. And yet, there is an unintelligible yet unmistakable sense of something... not altogether right about her.

[00110111]

"Oh, my." Astrid coyly attempts to shield her bosom with a manicured hand. The other is offered to her handsome manservant. "Darling, yes, I've traveled farther than you know. These feet are positively dying."

"Dear," she indicates the tiefling lass without taking her eyes off the satyr. "Do help the nice man warm some oil, and help me with a scrub. There is work yet to do."

"Mmm, how the past returns to haunt us. Will they set aside personal differences for common good, or will enemies test steel and hoof? I daresay either or both would be interesting." Astrid smiles as multiple debates unfold downstairs. "Were the task easy, would not all manner of being beg for favors at Tor's gates? The he-saint fears not Elysium, of course. Let the others' mettle be tested. I daresay, each must face their respective demons ere the end."

"Ah!" The noblewoman gasps and then bursts into a fit giggles.

[rigsmal]

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, FOURTH FLOOR SUITE (Astrid)

The maid and manservant attend their duties, fetching supplies as needed from various closets in the bedchamber. Despite lacking courtly grace, they are clearly accustomed to catering to the whims of wealthy folk.


THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Step, Fetch, Jhessail, Clymene, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Stepping into the inn, Jhessail finds herself in some sort of open entryway.


"Blimey! This place hasn't changed a whit, or I'm barmy as a Spire god!" she exclaimed, heedless of the other patrons. "Oi, where's that songslinger? She still running this bath tub?"

Abigail, in the middle of speaking to a server, turns on her heels and says, "Aye, and that way it'll stay." She grins. "Haven't seen you since, well, since Darkwood's folly! So hey, what's the ride been the past five or so years?"

Further into the great hall, the half-elf speaks to Faris and Eilyra.


"I know nothing of the local politics, even less of the customs here. I would think it unwise for me to precede to meet such a notable without first having, at the least, understood a bit more about her station, the etiquettes of such meetings and what might be expected of one in such a situation -- not toe mention how, exactly this 'council woman' might be linked to the Father of Djjins."

The half-elf bows slightly in apology as he interrupts. "Sir. Link or no link, few enough in the multiverse escape the notice of the chairwoman. Every adventurer coming to this establishment, seeking this enigmatic Sir Azarah—and we've had plenty over the years, I assure you—we usually recommend the aid of, well, factols." He whispers the last part. "Ever since the war, however, the only one left to recommend is the chairwoman."


"The Transcendent Order is centered in Elysium. If you chose to go there, I won't be accompanying you."

"Oh, no, traveling to another world shan't be necessary, madam. The Council is holding a dinner meeting here, at a date to be announced. Chairwoman Rhys herself will be present. It is an honor to host such illustrious people! And the beautiful and talented Madam Sara mac Lir was invited to play the harp at this auspicious gathering."

[dextercorvia]

Wisp tosses a look over her shoulder as she walks through the door. I feared as much. That demon has her claws in them. I rather liked the sell-sword, but there are always swords to be bought.

Out in the street, she looks for a likely candidate to ask directions of.

[Archmage1]

War? Only one Factol left alive, and calling herself a councilwoman, to distance herself? And I can't even try to find out more now. I suppose it was too much to hope that Sigil would remain unchanged, despite my unavailability.
Listening to the half elf explain, Eilyra frowns, as she eats the last of her snails.
Hm... coming here, but not at a specific date, and using the house bard, only? This sounds like either a trap, or something that's being put together on a very, very short notice. Which probably means trap, since I don't see why they would take the risk otherwise. So... why don't we see if they'll give away the backer? Could be the wizard? If people have been seeking him for years, that doesn't bode well.
Once the half-elf finishes explaining, Eilyra nods.
"An intriguing offer indeed. I have one question, really. Who's putting you up to this? Arranging a meeting with the Chairwoman on such short notice can't be easy."
And will he correct me? If he goes along with it, then it probably hasn't been arranged, which means it is definitely time for me to go. Maybe, if the others stay, I'd be able to get information out of them later.

[tonberryking]

Raila pays attention to Eilrya for all of a few moments before Clymene speaks up again. Willpower alone keeps her from trying to shove the smaller humanoid out of her way, uproot the table and demand the barbarian explain herself. Not that it keeps her from sputtering a round of obscenities that are hodgepodged from all the languages she knows, ultimately ending in her stamping her hooves upon the floor.

"All the gods damn it... Forget what I just said, if you know anything about the wizard, I'm not leaving if only to make sure you don't somehow tempt him into making my people's condition worse. I want to know what this party is-- the call to meet a councilwoman confuses her a bit, not to mention interrupting her entire spiel.

"...Yes. An explanation would help right about now. I know nothing of this place's council, and the wizard's connection to it all."

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail returned Abigail's grin, until she asked how the last five years had been.

"Hard, right hard," she replied, her expression grim. "Barmy to the Spire ain't just a piece of cake, it's a way of life for the Lost. Apart from that, I've been hunting knights of the post and other berks out of Union. Not much jink in it, but it's a damn sight better than the Mazes or whatever Her Serenity had planned for us. I only stuck my neck out this far 'cause I'm on the trail of a spellslinger going by this hoity-toity title, the Astronomer of the Refuge of Color, and the chant is he's in with the Sensates--or was. Figured I'd come in for a wash at least before hitting up the Festhall, assuming it's still open."

[Gryps2]

"If she has a connection with Azarah Tor, then we will speak with her." says Clymene, without hesitation. "I'm not afraid of talk."

The verbal jousting of Eilyra and Wisp, combined with the delicacies of Faris's social interaction was making her impatient. Social interaction was never her strong suit, but it seemed to her that if she left things to her betters in this case, they would be sitting there all night. Let them worry about how this fits into someone else's scheme. As long as the road led to Azarah Tor, Clymene cared little about who paves it.

[rigsmal]

CLERK'S WARD, ADMINISTRATOR'S DISTRICT (Step)

If Wisp hasn't already paid for her purchases, she is asked to as she leaves through the inn's front entrance.

This is just a copied description from another post.

The district is clean, well-lit, and well-paved, and, as its name might suggest, a place where administrative and other civic activities occur. The Guildhall Ward is close by. A little further on is the Market Ward.

The busy streets of Clerk's Ward are filled with—you guessed it—clerks, carrying piles of scrolls and record books, talking to the various denizens of Sigil, typically the middle- to upper-class sort, or doing business at local shops and bureaus. There are also other cityfolk, most commoners, domestic servants, craftsmen, and artisans. Some live here, some work here, but most are here for specific reasons.

The buildings in this ward have timber-framed beige stucco walls and clay tile roofs, are four- to five-stories tall, and are packed in a haphazard manner. However, the streets are wide, and many spacious plazas with fountains and statues dot the ward. Currently Step is within a stone's throw of the Whole Note Inn. A short walk away are the Hall of Speakers District, the Hall of Records District, and Little Arcadia. The great dome and sparkling spire of the Hall of Speakers rises from behind rows of buildings. The immense dark stone tower that is the Hall of Records can be seen in the distance in the opposite direction, no less imposing.

The skyscraping silver towers of the Civic Festhall of the Festhall District can be seen farther past Little Arcadia. Far enough that, through the inner width-wise curve of Sigil's torus, one can see the vague but colossal groundwork of the Festhall above the roofs of interposing buildings.
Within moments of looking like a lost outsider, Wisp senses that various folk have fixed their attentions on her, some unsavory. Fortunately, many of those eyes averted upon sighting her not-insubstantial collection of magic items. Among those which remained, one approaches her, a flamboyantly-dressed, beautiful tiefling woman with bright red hair and enough jewelry to buy a house.

The tiefling grins. "You'd be not just any prime, but a prime blood at that. It's 'cause of this none of these sods tried to peel you." She bows, every bit as flamboyantly as her appearance. "Kylie the Tout, at your service. I know the Cage top-to-bottom, or least, much as knowable to any of us who ain't Her Dread Majesty or any of her dabus servants. I'll give you a simple question for free, cutter. What do you need?"


THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Fetch, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Near the entryway, Jhessail converses with Abigail.


"Hard, right hard," she replied, her expression grim. "Barmy to the Spire ain't just a piece of cake, it's a way of life for the Lost. Apart from that, I've been hunting knights of the post and other berks out of Union. Not much jink in it, but it's a damn sight better than the Mazes or whatever Her Serenity had planned for us. I only stuck my neck out this far 'cause I'm on the trail of a spellslinger going by this hoity-toity title, the Astronomer of the Refuge of Color, and the chant is he's in with the Sensates--or was. Figured I'd come in for a wash at least before hitting up the Festhall, assuming it's still open."

"Ah, I sympathize, cutter. Darkwood did do us all in with his foolishness. Curse the Takers and all of their lot!" Abigail sighs and her smile returns. "Apologies, apologies. I know you folk had it harder than the rest of us. 'Tis a shame the Lady told everyone to pike it, not just the Takers.

"Now, that spellslinger. curious name, that one. 'Astronomer of the Refuge of Color.' What, precisely, is this 'Refuge of Color'? Sounds like barmy nonsense, if you'll pardon my saying so. Oh—" she rests her face in her hands "—don't be telling me the dark of it is this be the same spellslinger known as 'Azarah'? Oh, cutter, we've been getting folk asking about that fellow the past few years, but today's been one of the heavier days, though not the worst by a long shot! Some dour prime dwarves a week back, searching for this fellow, started a sodding fight in my case, can you believe it! Anyways, I'll tell you the same as I've told them, Factol Rhys is your surest bet, 'cause she knows more than any mortal blood on this side of the planes, this much is true. But, here's what I think, she's a cipher at heart, and you know what they're like. Nobody's getting the straight chant out of her."

Further inside the great hall, around the table where Clymene, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris are gathered, the half-elf greeter answers their questions.


"An intriguing offer indeed. I have one question, really. Who's putting you up to this? Arranging a meeting with the Chairwoman on such short notice can't be easy."

The half-elf bows in apology. He seems to be bowing a lot. "Apologies, madam. Sir al-Zakhari has a benefactor who I cannot name, unless said benefactor should wish it, of course. Alas, I fear I must disappoint you twice, for I also did not mean to imply that I could arrange a meeting with the chairwoman, just offer an introduction at a public dinner."


"...Yes. An explanation would help right about now. I know nothing of this place's council, and the wizard's connection to it all."

"Ah," says the half-elf, "the Council runs all the parts of the city that the Lady herself doesn't, which is to say, most of its day-to-day affairs. Chairwoman Rhys is the head of this Council, but it's not for this reason that it's recommended you speak to her, oh no. She's one of the, well, most knowledgeable people in Sigil—and out of it too, I'd imagine—and if anyone can find this Sir Azarah Tor, it would be the chairwoman. But I shall not mislead you: there is no guarantee the chairwoman can help you. She might simply not know of this wizard, or you might encounter... difficulties of comprehension, for lack of a better phrase."

[Archmage1]

Eilyria nods understandingly at the servant, before she pushes back her chair, to stand.
"I see. In that case, I think it would be best for me to depart."
Because if Rhys lives in Elysium now, she probably isn't going to be excessively happy to see me, and while she probably wouldn't do anything permanent, she might be less willing to divulge information. Perhaps Faris or the centaur might be induced into revealing additional information later? If they learn anything.
She turns away from the table, and takes a step or two forwards, before leaving.
"Perhaps we'll have the opportunity to help each other in the future."
Hopefully, enough to cement me as a possible ally. If not... I've invested enough time in trying to get them over their dislike. Now, to see if this new arrival might be willing to accept some company, and some help. My prestidigitation from earlier should be available, and if all she wants is to get clean...
She walks away, moving with a certain calm serenity as she approaches the discussion with Abagail.
"Greetings, Ms Abagail, and your new friend. I'm afraid that I couldn't but help to overhear your desires. I might be able to offer some minor assistance there, as we seem to have similar goals."
Hopefully, this doesn't backfire in some horrifying way.

[dextercorvia]

"That's high praise, cutter." Her use of the slang is stilted, but Wisp is nothing if not adaptable. "Do you happen to have the chant on where the Sensates can be found these days?" Wisp is wary. She's seen a number of cons that start with the helpful stranger, but it just may be possible to squeeze a bit of truth out of this one before any unpleasantness can occur.


Sense Motive [roll0]
Spot [roll1]
Bardic Knowledge for info of her own on the Sensates [roll2]

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail had been nodding along with her, but toward the end she gave Abigail a strange look.

"Factol?!" she finally said, stunned--and louder than she should have. "How in the name of the Nine bloody Hells did she get to stay on as a factol--let alone not have to pike it with all the rest? Bah, sod it, I'm past Cage politics at this point. You really think she's a sure bet?"

Any answer to her question was delayed by one of the other patrons--an undeniably attractive demoness (or was she? Hmm, something in her manner of speech sounded familiar)--inserting herself into the conversation.

"New friend, that's a good one, fiend," Jhessail replied, giving her a full glance up and down before continuing. "Well, you don't have that jinkshirty look to you like most of your kin, at least, so I'll let you rattle your jaw-dice at me while I wash away my thirst."

So saying, she turned back to Abigail.

"We'll talk later, Abs. Have one of your girls bring by a glass of that Saerloonian chartreuse, and a plate of flatbread," she requested, then, with a sweeping gesture to the demoness, added, "Lead on, whoever you are."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra herself seems not to mind Jhessail's insulting attitude, but her tail flicks back and fourth once more.
Jinkshirt? I haven't heard that one. Jink is money, so... selling shirts? Stripping, maybe? Or possibly a reference to the more lawyerly attitude of the devils? Definitely not nice. It's times like this where I wish I had inherited the ability to shapeshift, or that bloody pigeon hadn't stolen my hat.
"I think you'll find this interesting. Either we can talk, so I can clue you in, or we can meet with the group of more like minded individuals over there."
She points out the table full of adventurers.
"All of them seem to be seeking the same individual as you are. Your choice."

[tonberryking]

Raila sighs. After a few moments of processing the information given, translating it, putting it into context and concluding that of course the wizard Azarah Tor is elusive as all get out, she releases a few things. Mostly, going around on her own trying to ferret out his location will take lifetimes in this hellhole of a cycling city, unless she has some good leads and this is her first. Secondly, Cylmene is here, the cult is somewhere out there, and if she has to work with one of them to find the wizard, well, lesser of evils and all...

"I'm going with you all, as well. But only because our goals are the same; don't assume I'm a common mercenary."

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Like-minded? In Sigil? You having a laugh?" a bewildered Jhessail answered. "Maybe they are seeking the same spellslinger as yours truly, but I can bloody well promise you it's not for my reasons. Now, you going to clue me in or what? Let's hear the chant, fiend."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra shrugs, her wings bobbing up and down slightly, as her tail flicks back and forth. A few moments later, she spots a handy table(This time, with more wing friendly chairs), and gestures towards it.
"Shall we?"
Assuming no objections are forthcoming from the stranger, she starts walking towards it.
"That's exactly what I meant by like minded. Now, the dark of it's fairly simple. Azarah Tor, Wizard extraordinaire, the Astronomer of the Refuge of Color. Someone who is rumored to be able to grant extremely potent wishes. Someone who has had people looking for him for years. Based on that, he's either quite hard to find, or not hard at all. Regardless, the one consistent point of contact seems to be the Sensates, which is both good and bad. Apparently, the holy knight fellow over there, Faris, has a backer who is able to arrange an invite to a dinner with Councilwoman Rhys, who might know more."
She pauses.
And now, to see if I can get everyone working together. Might not be so simple, but it would make everything simpler to keep track of, and probably improve my chances of success.
"And that's the whole of what's known. I'd suggest that working together makes sense, at least for the moment, since it allows us to pool our talents and knowledge, improving everyone's chances of actually finding the wizard. And making it more likely that we survive, should there be guardians, or other such things along the way."

[rigsmal]

CLERK'S WARD, ADMINISTRATOR'S DISTRICT (Step)


"That's high praise, cutter." Her use of the slang is stilted, but Wisp is nothing if not adaptable. "Do you happen to have the chant on where the Sensates can be found these days?"

Kylie grins when she hears Wisp's attempt at planar cant. She nonetheless gives a direct answer. "So, the Sensates, eh? They proper got kicked out of the Cage by the Lady. Now they're officially over in the Gilded Hall in Arborea. That Festhall—the case with big silver towers yonder—still be theirs by proxy. Sorry to say, prime, can't actually help you with the first; you'll need a proper planewalker for that. And the last, well, you can see the towers, yeah? Just march your feet in that direction. 'Less your brain-box is a brain short, you can't miss it.

"If you ever need some canny blood to show you 'round the cage, come on over to the Escorts and Tout Guild. See you around, cutter."

Unless Wisp tries to stop Kylie, Kylie walks off.

Kylie comes off as one used to swindles and tricks, both on the receiving and giving ends, but her desire to show Wisp around the city seems more or less genuine and absent an ulterior motive.

Wisp indeed has no trouble spotting the lofty silver towers of the Civic Festhall in the distance, taller than neighboring buildings by at least five times. The streets are open and simple enough that there should not be any issue getting there.

Wisp also knows enough about the Society of Sensation to know that they were formerly headquartered in the Festhall. That they are newly headquartered on Arborea is news to her.

THE WHOLE NOTE INN, GREAT HALL (Fetch, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


"We'll talk later, Abs. Have one of your girls bring by a glass of that Saerloonian chartreuse, and a plate of flatbread,"

Abigail smiles. "Sure thing, cutter. Best of luck on your hunt." It does not take long for servers to bring what was asked for.

In the meantime, the half-elf greeter is looking at Faris expectantly but patiently.

[dextercorvia]

"My thanks, cutter." As the woman walks off, Wisp looks out over the expanse of this place. Locals call this place The Cage, and I can see why. I'd rather not walk this far, but if I stand here in the street for ten minutes, some sot will try his luck. She settles on quick invocation which quickens her pace, then sets off in the direction of the silver spires of the Festhall. As she walks, she mentally commands her armor to reshape itself. Her gray dress becomes obscured by a chain shirt, with strategic plates. As soon as her her armor changes, her outline begins to waver like a shadow in candlelight.

Casting Longstrider

Activating the Glamer in her armor and the Greater Blurring property. She will reactivate this every 10 minutes.

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e3/85/c2/e385c293a981059769cb5d87ace42862--dragon-armor-fantasy-dress.jpg

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail listened patiently while the demoness plied her case--until the food and drink arrived. She savored each bite of the juniper-drizzled bread and every sip of the fine, greenish-colored liqueur, as if it had been her first meal in days. Well it hadn't been that--it had in fact been many months, as if time really mattered to her.

"You know, it's funny, had you been one of your full-blooded abyssal kin you might have been able to buy my soul off of me for the price of a good meal and a glass of wine. That would've been quite the prize, but I'm afraid you'll just have to wait another year before I get the desire to eat again," she finally told her after she was satisfied, dropping the cant completely--along with the loudmouth tone of her voice--and sounding, well, not all that unlike the demoness in her accent. "So, where on Faerûn are you from? Heartlands for sure; western or eastern, though, of that I'm not certain, but I do want to know before we talk business. There's a--a part of me that is... very curious about that world."

From the look on Jhessail's face she's completely earnest, and not at all self-aware of this sudden change in her mannerisms.

[TankLaser007]

Faris follows the rapid fire back and forth. So much moving so quickly, and who all these people are he seriously begins to wonder. The women Miss Greymote, who had at first seemed frightened or concerned, and seemed desirous of protection seemingly up and walked off, alone.

Then there was the demon. He had tried to consider the fact that it was possibly that her appearance was simply that. Yet she too seeming to be acting oddly moving in and out of the circles of strangers, there was definitely more going on here than his forward mind could currently wrap around. He would have to sit and think over things.

There seemed to be something between the horned one and this Greymote, was it -- a history? Hostility, there was there but he had not quite grasped the entirety of it. Then this elf, he comes speaking of a "benefactor" a "backer" who wished to remain anonymous.

It was fortunate that the centaur and the warrior woman seemed to find a peace of sorts, if only temporary, and even if built upon distrust that was something that could -- hopefully prove to be the foundation for something more. There seemed to be some type of agreement that these two would stay together, if only to keep an warfare eye on one another. Despite there being wizards of a sort they had the cut of warriors about them and both had an earnest directness about them -- most true warriors did. This was something he felt more comfortable than the seeming serpentine speech of some of the others.

This would do. Perhaps the three of them could precede upon hunting this mage Tor together. He felt more at ease with them than any of the others.

"Very well." he said looking to the elf.

"I shall be close by. Should this council woman find herself willing to see us -- I would be most honoured if Cleymene and ...." his voice trails, having not seeming to have heard the centaur's name, "... and ..." he indicates the centaur, "our mysterious lady, should join me in this endeavour."

He nods to each in turn. "If this is agreeable to all then I shall await news of her arrival. In the mean time I will most likely take me leave. Is there a oasis or garden nearby? Something open to all of the 'cage' dwellers?"

[Archmage1]

Seeing the woman stop listening as soon as the food arrives, Eilyra calmly folds her hands and tail in her lap, and waits, showing no signs of impatience as she eats.
Once the woman finishes, and starts talking, Eilyra listens, and, once the woman finishes, she smiles, politely not showing her teeth.
"Alas, for opportunities lost. Frankly, my understanding of souls is that they're mostly for boasting rights anyway, or entertainment, getting tortured for all eternity. Always struck me as fairly pointless, really. Then again, I don't really have an inside view, as it were. However, I'm not necessarily the best person to talk about Faerune. I've been a little out of touch with it, lately. I'm from Arcorar, which was the heartlands."
She looks rather sad as she speaks, her voice sad, and filled with longing.
"It isn't what I remember, now. I used to run through the forest for weeks at a time, but now so much of it has been destroyed..."
And the wind in the trees, as far as the eye could see, the mountains, shining in the mist... but all gone, taken from me forever, by Sarya. But she's dead, and I'm not. And maybe, just maybe, I can do something about it.
She shakes her head slightly, and her reminiscing comes to an end. Her voice seems firm, and in control once more.
"But it's gone now. And I think that if you're interested in joining the Seekers, they're planning on moving out soon."

[rigsmal]

CLERK'S WARD, FESTHALL DISTRICT (Step)

Wisp's transformation attracts a few glances. These are not looks of wonder, but of wariness. Satisfied there is no imminent danger, the city folk leave Wisp alone.

Approaching the Civic Festhall, Wisp notices the street-level businesses are turning towards exotics, the arts, and bars. The Festhall itself, immense from a distance, is even more impressive up close. The faces of the hall look like sheer walls dotted irregularly with large windows and spacious balconies, topped with silver towers of varying heights, some reaching the hazy clouds high above. The building itself sprawls over a half dozen blocks. Its ornate front entrance is flanked by two guards and a greeter, a gnome woman currently talking with—or rather, getting annoyed at—an older, robed human man leaning on a staff.

"Not happenin', prime!" says the greeter.

"I insist," says the human. "I must speak Cuatha. The matter is of the utmost importance."

"Get this through to your addle-cove brain! He ain't even in!"

"...But can be reached through one of your portals, yes?"


WHOLE NOTE INN (Fetch, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)



"Very well." he said looking to the elf.

"I shall be close by. Should this council woman find herself willing to see us -- I would be most honoured if Cleymene and ...." his voice trails, having not seeming to have heard the centaur's name, "... and ..." he indicates the centaur, "our mysterious lady, should join me in this endeavour."

"Excellent," says the half-elf. "We do not have a date for the dinner at present, as it has been delayed until the Council has dealt with the portal kerfuffle. (Truly horrible business!) It would be best if we knew how to reach you in the meantime. Might I recommend our lodgings? If this does not please sir, at least let us know where we may send a message so that we may inform sir when the date has been decided upon."

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail smirked at the comment about souls in the Abyss, imagining an eternity of torment to be far preferable to what the powers had in store for her assuming they ever get the chance. After that, though, she appeared lost in thought.

"Arcorar. I'm not familiar with that name, though it feels like I should be," she mused. "Well, nevermind. I'm originally from Jhaamdath, or I suppose it's Chondath now, though it's still hard to believe it was ever home..."

She trailed off there at the end and was silent for a while, then she too shook her head clear and was back to the girl from the Gatehouse.

"Right, I'll do it, but I don't want you primes getting any big ideas rattling around in those brain-boxes of yours that I'm some tout playing at planar shepherd," she admonished. She stood up, dropped two gold pieces on the table, and smirked once more. "Jhessail Zhodani, at your service."

[Gryps2]

"Her name is Raila." says Clymene, looking up at the centaur for a moment before turning her gaze elsewhere in a sulky gesture. Having the centauress around reopened many old wounds, which, if not healed, had at least felt bandaged. But she had no right to try and deny Raila anything. "And I don't have any problem going with you. We won't get close to the wizard if we're not willing to take a risk."

"There's no gardens in this part of Sigil," she continues, glancing at Faris. His sacred nimbus was starting to make her uncomfortable, and his demeanor was a strange mixture of forthright warrior and child; strong yet naive. None of her companions or mentors (or parents, for that matter), had ever had an attitude like his, and its unfamiliarity was both disconcerting and comforting. None of her previous associates had been very good people, after all.

"You'd have better luck in the Lady's Ward. But it's a long walk away." She had never been to the Lady's Ward before, but she had heard stories of the opulent buildings and gardens there.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra nods calmly at the woman's answer.
"Arcorar is no more as well, broken up into hundreds of pieces. Time has not been kind to it. Jhammdath I know. It was a small kingdom, not worthy of note last I heard. Called Chondath, now? Interesting."
Perhaps we are both out of time.
When the woman agrees, Eilyra smiles, in a cheerful sort of way.
"Excellent. I don't think you'll regret this decision."
She stands as the woman does, and nods as she introduces herself.
"Good to meet you, Jhessail. Call me Eilyra. I'd rather keep my house name hidden, for now."
She moves, and gestures towards the table full of adventurers.
"Shall we?"
With that, she starts walking back towards the table she had abandoned not long ago, smiling cheerfully as she does.
Hopefully, this shan't be too difficult.
"Ready to go and pay the Sensates a visit? Everyone, I'd like you to meet Jhessail, who knows the Cage better than anyone else I know. Jhessail, be known to Faris Al-Zakhari, a Holy Warrior, Clymene, an excellent fighter, and..."
She pauses as her eyes go to the centaur.
"My apologies, but I'm afraid we haven't been introduced, dear. Call me Eilyra."
And let's see where the pieces fall.

[TankLaser007]

The askir places a hand upon his chest and bows in the direction of the centaur, "Raila, it is an honour." he then looks to the elf, "I am sure your lodgings are some of the best. However, I do not like to be so .... confined. I am much prefer to sleep beneath the ..." he pauses looking for the word, there seems to be no real sky above only a disorientating arch of cityscape, "...in the open.". He thinks for a moment. "Not too far from here I saw a large statue of a horse. An auspicious animal, perhaps I shall spend some time there in reflection and await word from you regarding this council woman."

When Eilyra returns he looks at the new woman. Yet another spell slinger. Perhaps this is a ring wherein all for of jinn is imprisoned, how many a tale has had a ring bound jinn as its centre piece. Is that why they call this place "the cage" it attracts and traps these sorcerers...

He bows to the newcomer, "Lady Jhessail.", he then turns back to Eilyra, "If Clemeyne and Raila wish to meet with this memory coven I will accompany you. Otherwise we await word of this councilwoman."

[tonberryking]

"My name is-- yes, it's Raila." she eyes Clymene for a moment and then looks away with a silent harrumph. There's been several people leaping in and out of the conversation and mentally translating it all has left her even more irritable, but at least she's tempering her temper with the thought that a few leads have been laid at her hooves. "And while I will gladly accompany you to speak with this council woman, forgive me but my common isn't perfect. What was that about a memory coven?"

Then the half elf speaks up and she glances at him dryly. <...Do you have accomodations for centaurs?> she asks in elven. The "And don't you dare say the stables" part is implied, but not openly stated.

[Archmage1]

Hm... I can see what Faris is meaning, but he's rather ill informed, which is unsurprising. But Raila has trouble understanding common? She was speaking Sylvan when she entered, perhaps her favored tongue? I could offer translation services, might lead to something of interest? Probably not, but no real loss in trying, since I've already tried once.
Listening to Raila, Eilyra nods, before she starts speaking in fluent Sylvan.
"Raila, Azarah Tor has been known to contact the group known as the Sensates, who seek memories and experiences. Faris, I think, is rather poorly educated regarding magic, and assumes that everyone and everything associated with magic is a witch? So he considers them to be a coven of witches that take memories. I'm suggesting that we visit them, and see if they'll be able to offer any useful information."
She pauses for a moment, before continuing, still in Sylvan.
"If you'd prefer I can explain in another language? I thought Sylvan was your native tongue, but I might be wrong there."

[dextercorvia]

Wisp drops her obscurement and glides over to the arguing duo. "Oh my!" she exclaims, "Your mutual frustration is so palpable -- I can feel it on my tongue. The taste is so exquisitely bitter. It reminds me of the summer I spent on Athas. For two weeks I had nothing to drink but cameldung tea. Absolutely atrocious. But, I lost a full stone. I can tell the experience is wearing on you, perhaps it is time to try something new."


Bluffing [roll0] (She's never been to Athas, and she hopes they have camels)

[rigsmal]

CLERK'S WARD, FESTHALL DISTRICT (Step)


Wisp drops her obscurement and glides over to the arguing duo. "Oh my!" she exclaims, "Your mutual frustration is so palpable -- I can feel it on my tongue. The taste is so exquisitely bitter. It reminds me of the summer I spent on Athas. For two weeks I had nothing to drink but cameldung tea. Absolutely atrocious. But, I lost a full stone. I can tell the experience is wearing on you, perhaps it is time to try something new."

The greeter gives Wisp an odd look. "Prime, the Festhall is open to wandering cutter, 'long as they've got the jink and don't pike the minders off."

The human nods at Wisp. "You hail from the Crimson Sphere? I am Malbert Ermengard from the faraway plane of Eberron. I am one of a druid sect known as the Gatekeepers."

The greeter interrupts. "No basher's gonna want to hear your wigwag."

Malbert shrugs. "I'm not here to cause trouble and my request is eminently reasonable. However, the past few days in Sigil have been... hard on me, so you'll excuse me if I'm a tad short on patience." He sighs. "Does our interloper have a name?"


WHOLE NOTE INN (Fetch, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


"Not too far from here I saw a large statue of a horse. An auspicious animal, perhaps I shall spend some time there in reflection and await word from you regarding this council woman."

"Alas, sir," says the half-elf, "I do not know how long we shall have to await word of the date. Perhaps a more... permanent address would be feasible?"


Then the half elf speaks up and she glances at him dryly. <...Do you have accomodations for centaurs?> she asks in elven. The "And don't you dare say the stables" part is implied, but not openly stated.

"But of course, madam," says the half-elf in perfect Elvish. "We regularly accommodate bariaurs, and have accommodated visitors from Arborea and the Beastlands in the past." The inn has only common and good rooms available. Pricing per day is respectively 5 sp and 2 gp.

[dextercorvia]

"Wysteria Greymote, of Oerth, originally. Athas was something of an unintentional delay. It is a pleasure to meet you, Malbert. I've never been to Eberron, but I'd love to someday. Perhaps you have time for a drink and we can swap a few stories. You aren't getting anywhere with your friend at the moment," Wisp nods toward the gnome.

She lets out a sigh and looks wistfully at the silver spires spanning the sky. When she looks back at Malbert, Wisp's eyes glisten with just a trace of extra moisture. "Honestly, the last few days haven't gone well for me either, and I could use a rest and a sip of brandy before the next calamity."

[Gryps2]

"Just take a room in the inn," says Clymene to Faris, impatiently. "They're acting as your gofers, so you might as well pay them."

Clymene then turns her attention to Eilyra, furrowing her brow at the new arrival. Jhessail didn't seem like anything too unusual... Faris had acknowledged her as a spellcaster, but Faris also thought that Clymene was a spellcaster, so his judgment seemed rather poor in that regard. As much as she thought Wisp had overreacted, it was rather strange to have so many people looking for the wizard in the same place. Either it had been planned, or they would be running into other groups of petitioners on their journey.

The demoness's exchange with Raila drew her suspicion. Was she whispering a special deal to her? It wouldn't do to be betrayed when salvation seemed so attainable. On the other hand, Clymene simply didn't feel like she had it in her to spill blood on a mere doubt. The release of violence faded all too quickly, and the shadow of guilt grew ever greater.

Rather than causing a scene, she merely stood up. "If you think you can arrange an audience, I will visit the Society."

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail could ignore the jibe at her forgotten homeland. She could tolerate the cool reception she had been given by this table of would-be seekers. But she couldn't be silent at such ignorance of the workings of the planes, even if it was directed at a different faction from her own.

"Memory coven? Of all the addle-coved bollocks to rattle past a prime's jaw-dice, that takes the cake," she sputtered, head in hand. "Better open up your brain-boxes and get with the chant right quick, or you'll be taken for a clueless berk and end up scragged, no matter how well-lanned a blood you be back home. The Sensates are--were--a faction, not some witch's coven, which meant they were one of those what tried to turn the Wheel, that's the planes, in their favor. The Wheel turns on belief, and the Sensates believed in experience, and that's what they traded in when they made their case at the Festhall. That was before the War, before Darkwood's Folly saw the factions sent piking it or written in the dead book (except for the Ciphers, apparently, hmph). After, well, we'll just have to see for ourselves, won't we. Now, I suggest we make our case here before traipsing around the Clerk's Ward."

With that said she pulls out two more gold and drops it in the headwaiter's palm.

"The most private room you have."

[TankLaser007]

Faris looks to the newest member to the table. "What do you mean 'the Wheel turns on belief.'"

He then looks to the Elf, his eyes, the only visible part of his form not wrapped in white fabric, momentarily flick to Cleymene; "You may find me at this horse, or, if you prefer, I will come and check with you everyday."

He then looks to Clymene, "As for these 'gofers' I am of the assumption they are, in fact, serving the interests of this 'benefactor' if there is some need for recompense, well as the saying goes; 'every snake returns to its hole' and 'After the hunt every hawk is returned to its cage'. We should not mistake utility for generosity. I may not be familiar to your local turn of phrases nor your customs yet the people their motivations," he looks now squarely at the manager, "and their ploys and plots tend to be the same whether, Badian, Hadharan or Ajami."

Turning his attention back fully to the group, "I will accompany you to these 'Sensates' and as I previously mentioned leave the negotiations and speaking to the locals, 'The Badian does not trade in the souk, nor does the Hadharan walk the dunes'."

[rigsmal]

CLERK'S WARD, FESTHALL DISTRICT (Step)


"Wysteria Greymote, of Oerth, originally. Athas was something of an unintentional delay. It is a pleasure to meet you, Malbert. I've never been to Eberron, but I'd love to someday. Perhaps you have time for a drink and we can swap a few stories. You aren't getting anywhere with your friend at the moment," Wisp nods toward the gnome.

"Pleasure's all mine, Wysteria. Unfortunately, the greeter is far too stubborn for her own good."

The two guards shift uncomfortably where they stand.


She lets out a sigh and looks wistfully at the silver spires spanning the sky. When she looks back at Malbert, Wisp's eyes glisten with just a trace of extra moisture. "Honestly, the last few days haven't gone well for me either, and I could use a rest and a sip of brandy before the next calamity."

Malbert strokes his chin. "A drink and a few stories, then? Why not? But I do believe the best taverns nearby are found within the Festhall."

"No," says the greeter. "You'd best pike it, or I'll have a martyr scrag you."

"Am I supposed to be afraid of your bluster?"


WHOLE NOTE INN (Fetch, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


"The most private room you have."

With a bow, the server leaves and returns with a brass key to a room on the fourth floor.


He then looks to the Elf, his eyes, the only visible part of his form not wrapped in white fabric, momentarily flick to Cleymene; "You may find me at this horse, or, if you prefer, I will come and check with you everyday."

"No, sir, no need to trouble yourself," says the half-elf. "I shall have a messenger sent to the Triona daily."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra smiles, in a cheerful sort of way, before she speaks.
"Wonderful! In that case, I believe everyone's ready to go? Jhessail, might you be willing to lead us to the Festhall?"
Time to go, I think.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail was about to answer Faris until he turned away upon asking his question, prompting an eyeroll from the psion. She took the room key and slipped it into her pack, then turned to Eilyra.

"Aye, for all the good it'll do, but like I told you, I'm not some kind of tout here to hook you on a bunch of flam," she replied before turning back to Faris. "And I meant exactly what I said, prime. Your power never gave you the real chant on belief? That figures."

With that, she stepped aside and motioned to the door.

[Archmage1]

The smiling half fiend sashays her way out the door, confident that none of her erstwhile allies were going to stab her in the back yet.

[rigsmal]

CLERK'S WARD, FESTHALL DISTRICT (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Minor edits to a copy of a prior description.

As the group from the Whole Note Inn approach the Civic Festhall, they notice the street-level businesses turning towards exotics, the arts, and bars. Clean, well-paved, and well-lit, the district no longer boasts clerks as its majority, but rather citizens from all across the City of Doors, ranging from middle class to positively affluent. Additionally, artisans and courtiers can be seen every which way. Indeed, the three pillars of the district seem to be culture, fashion, and hedonism.

The Festhall itself, immense from a distance, is even more impressive up close. The faces of the hall look like sheer walls dotted irregularly with large windows and spacious balconies, topped with silver towers of varying heights, some reaching the hazy clouds high above. The building itself sprawls over a half dozen blocks. Its ornate front entrance is flanked by two guards and a greeter, a gnome woman currently talking with—or rather, getting annoyed at—an older, robed human man leaning on a staff. Next to the human is a familiar face, Wisp, from the inn.
The group from the Whole Note Inn arrives before the Civic Festhall.

Jhessail has a feeling that, based on cues from body language and the general atmosphere, the greeter and the human have been arguing. Wisp appears to have interrupted.

I refer to Wisp by name, but if memory serves, Jhessail doesn't actually know Wisp's name, so something to keep in mind.

[Archmage1]

Seeing an old acquaintance, Eilyra tries to look innocuous as the group approaches.
Lovely... that rather obsessive woman again. Maybe she's thought things over this time?

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Well, here it is, the Civic Festhall," Jhessail said flatly as they approached. "Hmm, and there's a queue forming already. Oi! Just pay the cover and get on with it!"

Clearly she's no fan of standing in line, no matter how short.

[tonberryking]

<I can speak elven and common just fine; it's this din of a city and every language under and above the stars being used all at once that's driving *me* up the wall. I keep switching back and forth in my head.> Raila explains, though she remains a bit quiet on the way to the Civic Festhall. Before she leaves, she does pay for a room in advance, at least, hoping it shows as a sign of good faith to the others.

"I understand large cities are frequented by strife, but does everyone argue here?" she asks in her thick accented common.

[Gryps2]

Clymene gives Faris a strange expression for a moment, but it seems likely that his life didn't include a lot of common courtesy lesson. Her old githzerai master used to say that the manners of angels were not the manners of men, and that seemed to ring true. But in any case, it was immaterial next to the information that could be gleaned from the Society of Sensation. Standing up from the table, she follows the others.

Traveling in Sigil had ceased to amaze her, so she passes through the crowds largely ignoring them. The Festhall... it seems familiar. Perhaps she had been here with Cardiff at one point, but no single memory stands out. Looking over at the "queue", she raises a hand in greeting to Wisp. "We meet again. I hope you don't feel jinxed."

[dextercorvia]

Malbert strokes his chin. "A drink and a few stories, then? Why not? But I do believe the best taverns nearby are found within the Festhall."

"No," says the greeter. "You'd best pike it, or I'll have a martyr scrag you."

"Am I supposed to be afraid of your bluster?"


"Indeed, I think you are correct." Wisp turns to the little gnome, "Surely you won't deny two new friends a chance to get a decent drink? I promise Malby will be on his best behaviour, and I'll even make sure he buys you a bottle of port for your troubles."


Looking over at the "queue", she raises a hand in greeting to Wisp. "We meet again. I hope you don't feel jinxed."

Wisp directs her attention to the mercenary, carefully avoiding looking at Eilyra lest she lose her carefree smile. "Clymene! Not a jinx, but fortune's smile indeed to see you again. I was just about to have a drink with my friend, here, but it is good to see you."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra nods understandingly at Raila's statement.
<Sylvan>
"Cities can be quite interesting, yes? So much life, so many ideas, so many things to do. It can get confusing. I mostly tend to focus on some of it, and just remember the more interesting bits for later."

Along the way, she nods at Raila's comment.
"Any time you have 2 people who don't know each other, you'll have conflicts. And in cities, no one knows each other."
She looks almost wistful.
"Wonderful, that. Life would be so boring without all the little conflicts."

After Clymene approaches Greymote, Eilyra notes that Greymote's darting eyes seem to be avoiding her, Eilyra shakes her head, clearly disappointed.
I suppose not, but she isn't going to be trying anything too obvious.

[rigsmal]

CLERK'S WARD (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


"Well, here it is, the Civic Festhall," Jhessail said flatly as they approached. "Hmm, and there's a queue forming already. Oi! Just pay the cover and get on with it!"

The greeter shrugs. "See? This cutter knows the chant. Stop holding things up, human."


"Indeed, I think you are correct." Wisp turns to the little gnome, "Surely you won't deny two new friends a chance to get a decent drink? I promise Malby will be on his best behaviour, and I'll even make sure he buys you a bottle of port for your troubles."

The greeter sighs. "Alright, alright! Just head in already, and sodding well mind yourselves!"

"Many thanks," says Malbert in a low voice.

I won't post this every time I roll a check for a player, but I just want you to know Wisp made a Diplomacy roll here.

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Whereas from the exterior the Festhall looks in one piece, the interior tells a different story. There is construction everywhere. Temporary scaffolds, platforms, and pulleys have been erected all over the large atrium, and goodness was this atrium large.

The atrium, the most immediate room upon entry, has roofs unfathomably high, at least over a hundred stories tall. The upper floors have balconies looking over a massive open space, wide enough to house several dozen towers side-by-side. The architecture is replete with flying buttresses, arches, and ornately-carved columns. The floor is a mix of white, gray, and black marble, and the walls are colored limestone and smooth granite. Furnished with ornamented lounges and tables, and decorated with exquisite paintings and sculptures, some obviously magical, the atrium is designed to overload one's senses with culture, heedless of cost. From the atrium are countless doors and stairs to other parts of the Festhall. 'Countless' indeed, for one literally cannot count all the doors unless one wishes to spend half-a-century here.

A variety of city folk, from well-to-do to extravagantly wealthy, crowd the atrium, noisy with chatter. As the group enters through the front doors, two, ten-story tall, multicolored crystal doors etched with abstract geometric patterns, they walk past two immense waterfall fountains of clear water, flowing upwards in defiance of physical laws, and come face-to-face with someone who appears to know the facility, a being from waist up an attractive human woman with spectacles, and below a four-legged black ram.

"Visitors," says the being with a curtsy, "I'd be Factotum Annali Webspinner. I mind the Civic Festhall. Help you with directions? Services? Shops? Events? Booking? History? I'll try not to launch into a screed."

[Archmage1]

Stepping into the Civic Festhall at long last, Eilyra pauses momentarily to take in the appearance of the atrium.
It looks like this place has been through a war. And I suppose it has. But the approach... I can see why someone would seek to shatter this gauche display. I mean, really... so many expensive paintings, statues, and other such things... all together, they clash. Far better to have each set up, so that they might be a centerpiece of their own, rather than just screaming "I have no taste, but lots of money, and I was to show off". Really. But, best to just keep quiet. Better to not offend our hosts, I think. I suppose they charge a lot for their stored experiences?
Passing through the doors(With a slow look at them), Eilyra pauses as the woman approaches them, and smiles, her tail resting behind her.
"Thank you for your kindness, Factotum Annali. We're looking for someone who's been known to contact the society of sensation. Might you be able to help us find someone who might be able to assist us with that? Preferably by the scenic route? I can see a lot of effort has been put into a most excellent display."

[dextercorvia]

Wisp inclines her head to the dwarf, and lets her smile broaden. She places a hand on Malbert's elbow and allows him to escort her into the hall. As they pass through the doors, she whispers back to the older man, "It's no problem, really. That's what friends are..."

The sight of the hall stops her cold. She can't help but gape at the extravagance of it all. Having made and lost small fortunes over her life, Wisp had some idea of the opulence money could buy, but this was beyond words. It seemed so...frivolous, but in a way that tickled her senses. Unable to help herself, Wisp lets out a giggle.

While Eilyra is talking with the factotum, she excuses herself for a moment, "Let me speak to my friend Clymene for a moment then we'll get that drink."

She approaches Clymene and Faris, "I'm sorry we didn't finish talking earlier. I meant everything I said, and would like the chance to catch up after having a drink with my friend. Would you object to me using a tracking invocation? It is just a harmless bit of divine magic so that I can find you in this maze later" She looks Faris directly in the eye at the mention of divine hoping he will perceive the truth of her words.

If they accept she will cast Status on the two of them.

When the factotum has finished with Eilyra, Wisp replaces her hand on Malbert's elbow and inquires, "We'd be most interested in a fine brandy and a bottle of port. After that..." she trails off. "Who knows?"

[TankLaser007]

The people here have much different customs to those of his homeland, even for Ajam. There is a crude directness to their manner of speech that never would passed for civilised discourse even among the rougher nomadic Badian. It was quite one thing to be forward in explaining your perspective, providing information or conditions, your desires or dislikes yet their way of conveying such was rather unrefined or discipline. He chocked it up to the simpler ways of the Ajam, they where not, after all, a people of poetry or contemplation. Their language seemed to lack any sense of nuance or precision, or perhaps he still needed more practice it was possibly he was entirely misunderstanding their words or lack the proper context.

he nodded his head in quiet deference while the others spoke, that is until Lady Greymote approached.

"Divine?" his head tilted, "Whom is your patron? I was not aware that you were a priestess Lady Greymote..."

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Malbert remains silent and watches.


"Thank you for your kindness, Factotum Annali. We're looking for someone who's been known to contact the society of sensation. Might you be able to help us find someone who might be able to assist us with that? Preferably by the scenic route? I can see a lot of effort has been put into a most excellent display."

"I mark all who come and go," says Annali, "so name the cutter and I might help you. Also, if you like the works you should scan title and artist now, 'cause they'll be going into smaller galleries by week's end. Policy's to exhibit each month's top-shelf artists. The best go to the Great Gallery. I really love Grace in the Brothel by Yvana. Well, that one's just a top-shelf artist all around. Do take a peek at the rest of her works, aye?" She gives quick directions to the gallery.


"It's no problem, really. That's what friends are..."

The sight of the hall stops her cold. She can't help but gape at the extravagance of it all. Having made and lost small fortunes over her life, Wisp had some idea of the opulence money could buy, but this was beyond words. It seemed so...frivolous, but in a way that tickled her senses. Unable to help herself, Wisp lets out a giggle.

Malbert smiles at Wisp's reaction. Nonetheless, he himself takes in his surroundings with jaded indifference.


When the factotum has finished with Eilyra, Wisp replaces her hand on Malbert's elbow and inquires, "We'd be most interested in a fine brandy and a bottle of port. After that..." she trails off. "Who knows?"

"Just the drink, miss," says Malbert politely but firmly. "It was the truth outside when I said my purpose is urgent."

"Second floor, any of the spireward corridors," says Annali. "Bars and similar services. First floor, any corridor on your right, all the way down. Lodgings."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra smiles, somewhat more genuinely this time, and Annali's explanation.
"Wonderful. Thank you for your assistance. The individual we're seeking is known as Azarah Tor."
So, this is some sort of pre-display? They'd do better to organize them better, but that makes more sense, I imagine. Looking at the galleries while I'm here... that, I think, would be a good use of my time. Without art, we are no better than demons and devils.

[dextercorvia]

"Divine?" his head tilted, "Whom is your patron? I was not aware that you were a priestess Lady Greymote..."

"I don't like to say at first -- some might get the wrong idea. Many have done truly awful things in the name of Wee Jas. That ugliness is not me, though, and nor do I believe it to be my patron."


"Just the drink, miss," says Malbert politely but firmly. "It was the truth outside when I said my purpose is urgent."

"Second floor, any of the spireward corridors," says Annali. "Bars and similar services. First floor, any corridor on your right, all the way down. Lodgings."

"Of course. I only meant," she blushes at the suggestion of lodging, "I only meant that I would like to see the sights of this place once you were about your business." She allows herself to be escorted to the second floor.

[TankLaser007]

It is clear from the momentary lack of focus in his eyes that the name Wee Jas has not immediately registered as a familiar deity. "Forgive me for the breach in etiquette Lady Greymote." he says placing a hand over his heart with a slight bow, "On the subject of religious stricture my own beliefs prevent me from consenting to any magics. I shall likely be with Clymene, should she allow you to work your charm finding her should lead you to us both."

[Gryps2]

Walking into the Festhall, even Clymene couldn't help but feel a little impressed by its vastness, its grandeur. Looking up at the fountains, she is momentarily enthralled, forgetting her worries and merely enjoying the spectacle. But like all releases, it is temporary. She lowers her gaze, and looks over to where Eilyra is addressing the Factotum. It didn't seem like the road to Azarah Tor would be a direct one, as far as the Society was concerned.

Hearing Wisp, she turns towards her, then looks over at Malbert. She went drinking with others before, but never with friends, just with whoever she and Cardiff were working with at the time, and it was just as liking to result in a barfight than in merriment. Out of all of them, Wisp seemed the most likely to actually be friendly with her; Eilyra didn't seem likely to see her as an equal, Faris was too pure, Jhessail too uninterested, and Raila... well, that didn't need explaining. So while Wisp didn't seem to have any better of a chance to leading her towards Azarah Tor than anyone else, she still wanted to help her out. The road to the wizard was bound to be perilous, and having someone in her corner would be helpful. Besides, having a friend would be... novel.

So when Wisp makes her offer, Clymene merely shrugs. "I will accept the mark." she says, before adding in a shy tone. "Perhaps... we can go drinking as well. Afterward."

[dextercorvia]

So when Wisp makes her offer, Clymene merely shrugs. "I will accept the mark." she says, before adding in a shy tone. "Perhaps... we can go drinking as well. Afterward."

Wisp grins, "I would like that very much."


It is clear from the momentary lack of focus in his eyes that the name Wee Jas has not immediately registered as a familiar deity. "Forgive me for the breach in etiquette Lady Greymote." he says placing a hand over his heart with a slight bow, "On the subject of religious stricture my own beliefs prevent me from consenting to any magics. I shall likely be with Clymene, should she allow you to work your charm finding her should lead you to us both."

"I would not ask you to compromise on this."

Her incantation is brief and as promised harmless.

She casts Status, 14 hour duration.

Here ends the parallel timeline.

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


Eilyra smiles, somewhat more genuinely this time, and Annali's explanation.
"Wonderful. Thank you for your assistance. The individual we're seeking is known as Azarah Tor."

"Ah, we've had others like you." Annali purses her lips. "Well, the short and long of it is this: blood used to stop by every so often, but now Factol Montgomery's gone and so's he. No, I don't know the dark of his business with the factol. Your ride here's a deader, cutter."

Malbert raises an eyebrow.

You sense Malbert recognizes the name 'Azarah'.

"Of course. I only meant," she blushes at the suggestion of lodging, "I only meant that I would like to see the sights of this place once you were about your business."

Malbert nods thanks to Annali. He and Wisp leave, climbing nearby stairs and walking for minutes through a series of busy and opulent halls, finally reaching an airy plaza-like corridor, down the center lined with crystal-clear fountains topped by dancing—yes, moving—glass sculptures of idealized animals and fey. Lightly crowded with hushed conversations, echoing footsteps, and the dulcet tones of distant singing, the corridor is home to many bars and variations on the theme catering to the various races, prime worlds, and inner and outer planes. Through some closed doors are muffled sounds of revelry, these no doubt for the more raucous sort.

Choosing a quiet bar, Malbert orders himself a lighter brew of mead and for Wisp a glass of Tethyrian port supposedly imported from the vineyards of Myratma. He pays respectively five silver and two gold.

"The drink is thanks for the help at the doors," he says, taking a sip of his mead. "Also as apology for making you into a liar, as I have no intention of buying our friend outside anything. So, Wysteria, priestess of the Stern Lady and traveler from Greyspace, tell me how it is that your path brings you to Sigil, here at the center of all things."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra nods, clearly not too surprised by the answer, but just as clearly disappointed.
Unfortunate, but not unexpected. I'm not getting a bribe feeling, and I suppose the next logical step would be investigating the relationship between the two. Lovers? Research sharing? Boredom? Hm... documentation? But I doubt they'll let me look at the records of their former Factol? Or might they? Hm... or else someone might have overheard? To go directly, or look for more information... I suppose the worst she'll do is say no? If needed, I suppose I can use a disguise, and ask later, as someone else?
"That is rather unfortunate. I don't suppose you might have heard what she said to any of the others who have come looking? Or their names, and possibly a way to contact them? Or might you be willing to let us have a look at her records? If they're available, of course? There might be something there? If not, it'll still be an interesting experience, I'm sure."

So, Greymote is a cleric, and of Wees Jaa no less? Interesting. Or possibly not. And it does look like Clymene is leaning in her direction, so Raila might be more likely to lean in mine? I might be able to play them off against each other, but not for long, I suspect. Raila probably wouldn't tolerate such behavior for long. I suppose she's more trustworthy than Clymene, but honesty does get boring after a while.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail's marveling at the post-war repair work to the Festhall turned to disgust at all the religious talk, and though she kept her mouth shut it was clear that line of conversation, while innocent, was upsetting to her.

"Oh you think so?" she finally chimed in, responding to the factotum's remark that their trip here had been a dead end. She nodded her head toward Eilyra and then, once she'd caught her attention, glanced toward the older human who was on the way up the stairs with Clymene's friend.

Turning back to Annali, Jhessail had one more question, and it was a legit one.

"There's a right barmy bit of flam what went with that name, 'the Refuge of Color.' Mean anything to you?"

[dextercorvia]

"The drink is thanks for the help at the doors," he says, taking a sip of his mead. "Also as apology for making you into a liar, as I have no intention of buying our friend outside anything. So, Wysteria, priestess of the Stern Lady and traveler from Greyspace, tell me how it is that your path brings you to Sigil, here at the center of all things."

Wisp takes a small sip of the sweet drink. The warmth of it flushes her cheeks and spreads from there down into her chest. "I'm afraid that I've already made myself a liar. I can hardly hold you accountable. I've never been to Athas, or anywhere, except in a book or a tale. I wasn't lying when I said this has been an awful week, though." Her shoulders droop just a bit.

"I'm so lost in this place. I'm not even sure why I was trying to find the Sensates -- just something I heard, I guess. And then, there you were, so sure of your mission. I could tell you were a cutter or blood or whatever it is they call people that know their business in this place. There you were having trouble getting by some officious gate guard. I've been living as a merchant for the last while, so I know the, er, chant of her sort. I hoped," a tear slid down her nose, making Wisp thankful she hadn't charcoaled her eyes this morning.

"I hoped that if I helped you get through the gate, I'd feel like my old self again. Last week I was sitting at a bar in the Free City and my influence mattered. Then that scoundrel Steele ripped me off and led me on a merry chase that brought me here. Today, I realized that in Sigil I am nobody -- an infant. That group you saw down there -- they all met at an inn not two hours ago, all coincidentally looking for the same wizard. I had heard the name once in some bard's tale, and I thought that was my chance. I'd offer help a few folks out and they'd owe me a favor. You have to start somewhere," Wisp smiled weakly. "It's hopeless, though. I honestly have no idea how I'd even help them if they even wanted it. To top it all off, since meeting them there is this voice in my head constantly telling me that I need to find the same wizard they are looking for."

She dabs her moist eyes with her napkin, "I'm so sorry to bother you with all of this. It sounds so trivial and crazy when I say it out loud. Please, tell me a story of your travels, and maybe we can both forget what a foolish nit I've been."

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Near the entrance, Annali engages the group.


"That is rather unfortunate. I don't suppose you might have heard what she said to any of the others who have come looking? Or their names, and possibly a way to contact them? Or might you be willing to let us have a look at her records? If they're available, of course? There might be something there? If not, it'll still be an interesting experience, I'm sure."

Annali shakes her head. "Too many've come since Darkwood's folly and before that they were few and far in-between. Here's the chant: Your spellslinger's been around since at least Elloweth, the very first factol, and this whole time even proxies've been asking about him. Yeah, if the powers aren't sharing the dark with their servants most mighty, it doesn't bode well for you.

"As for records, this here's now under the Entertainer's Guild. You want the Sensates, you'd be looking for the Gilded Hall on Arborea. That's where the written records'll be. Most of our recorders proper'll still be here. You want access, you'll have to join the guild. Same as it's been under Montgomery: Share with our Sensoriums, and if it doesn't give us the yawn we'll share what we've got with you. Mark me though when I say I don't know how or if you'll find your wizard in our recorders. You want to take the chance, head straight down the middle through the big doors and talk to one of the factotums in the circular chamber."


"There's a right barmy bit of flam what went with that name, 'the Refuge of Color.' Mean anything to you?"

Annali tilts her head for a moment as she thinks. She shakes her head. "Afraid not, but we got some real canny planewalkers down the wing through the spireward door. Pay the guildworker ten gold and you've got the run of the lecture halls, training classrooms, libraries, and offices."

On the second floor, by the bars, Wisp just finished telling Malbert her story.


She dabs her moist eyes with her napkin, "I'm so sorry to bother you with all of this. It sounds so trivial and crazy when I say it out loud. Please, tell me a story of your travels, and maybe we can both forget what a foolish nit I've been."

Malbert was a good listener, attentive but nonjudgmental, at least insofar as Wisp could tell from his inexpressiveness. He sips his mead. "A curious tale. Were I not in a hurry I would have offered assistance with tracking down this Steele, but all I can do is perhaps ease your mind. I do not think anyone readily takes to travel in alien worlds. Some, like you, show a little awareness. You intervened between me and our greeter friend outside. If I know my magic, you also cast spells on people you just met that would warn you should danger arise.

"In my years of shepherding the planes, I have tried to be the very paragon of conscientiousness. But I am not, and have never been, a traveler at heart; I am a traveler by necessity. Were it not for your interference, I would have polymorphed the woman outside into a toad. My tale is no secret and I do not mind sharing. My home, Eberron, the Dragon Between, is under constant siege from the horrors of Xoriat, a plane of unspeakable horror. We Gatekeepers have many duties, and to defend our world against the twisted beings of madness who dwell in Xoriat is one of our highest duties.

"In recent years our numbers have dwindled, and the forces of Xoriat have grown more powerful. Several manifest zones, these regions where the borders between our worlds are thinnest, have begun spawning great evils so quickly that as soon as we slay one, another takes its place immediately. Our world's greatest clerics called to the gods with their divinations and came to us planar shepherds with their answers: Seek the one known as Azarah. Yes, I seek the wizard as well, as do your friends.

"I went with my companion Iris, a beautiful dragonhawk I raised from a chick I rescued in Aundair. She has accompanied me through the peaks and valleys of my time with the Gatekeepers, and once again she accompanied me for the dark and cold weeks we traveled through the Plane of Shadow, where I was bereft of any comfort save for her company. When I finally arrived, I stepped from a portal, coming face-to-face with the so-called 'Master of Portal's' toll-collectors. On account of Iris, they charged an inspection fee I could not pay. They then drugged her and took her from me while my attention was diverted.

"You say you have lied. You call yourself foolish. Here's the truth of it, Lady Greymote of Oerth. I am just as new to the City of Doors and I have already done far worse. When Iris was taken, I killed every toll-collector I could find. Nothing came of it. I killed every son of mercy and every sodkiller who stood in my way. Nothing came of it. But I will tell you this: Until I find Iris, I will be the most pitiless killer this damnable city will ever know. In the meantime I take to the shadows of the city, an old man of no threat to walk its streets as I continue my search, both for the wizard of wishes and my loyal companion.

"So, tell me: Have you forgotten how much of a 'foolish nit' you've been?" He laughs.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra smiles grimly at Annali's answer.
Well, I knew it wouldn't be easy, and it seems that Azarah has something against gods, so that might be helpful. A pity that the Sensates don't seem to have the information; It'll probably be stored in a hidden location, if it's recorded at all. Ah, well, if Azarah was easy to find, then finding him probably wouldn't be helpful.
"Thank you for your help, Annali."
She reaches into her dress, and extracts a few coins.
"I appreciate it. If you happen to hear anything else on the subject, please, send me a message? I'll be staying in the Whole Note Inn while I'm in Sigil. Thank you."
She presses the five golden coins into Annali's hands.

With that, and having seen Jhessail's gesture, Eilyra turns to depart, planning on following Greymote.
Hm... better to have followers that tell me when they see something of interest. But to do that, I need to follow through. Ah, well, if my presence bugs Greymote enough, maybe she'll tell me what she knows, if anything, just to get rid of me.
"I think it might be good idea to follow Greymote, to see if she's had any more success than we've had."
She looks briefly over her other erstwhile companions, to see if they were going to follow, or if her fragile alliance was going to shatter here. And then she starts walking, heading up the stairs.

[tonberryking]

Raila seems at ease, willing to continue the 'alliance' as is, actually. Of course she wasn't happy to see some people she'd met speaking with a dwarf of all things, but the sight of another kind of tauric being--like and unlike herself at the same time, gives her a fleeting sense that maybe this topsy turvy place isn't as bad as it would otherwise be.

Of course the warrior mage trying to make sense of the discussions is a bit of another matter.

"That's fine, really," she nods to Eilrya following her in half attention, Though at some point I should acquaint myself better and find out if there's a district for people like myself and that friendly guide. Correct me if I'm wrong but she was saying that the wizard we're seeking is as elusive as hairs on a fish, right? That business about the dark confused me...

[Archmage1]

Walking towards the stairs, Eilyra answers Raila's question, her melodious voice calm.
"She was indeed, which is good for us, I think. If he was easy to find, everyone'd be finding him. The Dark of something is a secret, something not well known. Another of those catchy sigilisms. There are quite a few."
Having answered Raila's initial questions, Eilyra pauses for a moment, before she continues, clearly more thoughtful.
"I'm afraid that I'm not aware of a district for quadrupeds, but I might be wrong. My general understanding is that Sigil is mostly a mix of races, more divided by wealth than race. However, since quadrupeds tend to be larger, and to handle stairs poorly... there might be some financial incentive to stick together, so there might be one?"

[Gryps2]

Clymene looks towards where Wisp has gone, then over towards the big doors Annali had indicated to as she considers her next move. Finding their way to Arborea would be difficult, but not impossible. Clymene had a sixth sense with regards to portals; finding them, and finding out where they went. It had been the skill that had allowed her to escape from the githzerai, and the skill that had gained her Cardiff's protection when she first arrived in Sigil.

But if she needed membership to advance to the Guild's records, and membership could be won in the Festhall, then she would at least try. None of her memories were particularly pleasant ones, but they were certainly not "yawners" either. She looks towards the others as they begin to depart. "I want to try these 'recorders' first. Greymote will know how to find me." she says, starting off towards the big doors.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra seems to be somewhat disappointed by Clymene's answer, but she tries to smile encouragingly at Clymene.
"Good luck, Clymene. The spell Greymote used probably won't last for more than twelve hours or so, so if you need longer than that, perhaps send a message to us at the Whole Note?"
Hm... she's chosen, which is somewhat unfortunant. Still, all I can do is try to be seen as a good ally, and hope she'll keep me informed if she does find something.

[dextercorvia]

She dabs her eyes one more time, this time tears of shared grief rather than embarrassment. "I have indeed. I have never been more convinced that the chant... No, I do not need to use the slang of this place. The truth is, this Cage is a trap, and Tor is the bait they dangle to lure unwary primes. I find your actions extreme but understandable. I hope that not too many more meet the Stern Lady before you find your friend."

Her own visage turns stern as she reference the goddess of her home world. "In the Free City, I strive to live at peace -- it is good for business. But, when you are surrounded by bandits on the open road, you have to bring your own peace. A final peace. You are surrounded by bandits, Malbert, and it is right to fight to save your friend."

Wisp senses that Clymene is getting farther away. She stands as she finishes her wine, and she looks almost nothing like the giggling and foolish girl that entered the bar. Instead it looks as though a storm cloud could break against her brow at any moment. "Thank you for the wine, but I will not keep you any longer. If I find Iris, I will Send to you. May your steps be as swift and inevitable as death and may you find rest at the end of your journey."

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


"Thank you for your help, Annali."
She reaches into her dress, and extracts a few coins.
"I appreciate it. If you happen to hear anything else on the subject, please, send me a message? I'll be staying in the Whole Note Inn while I'm in Sigil. Thank you."
She presses the five golden coins into Annali's hands.

Annali curtsies gracefully and turns her attention to new arrivals.

Clymene steps through the doors Annali indicated into a quieter wing of the Festhall. The rooms and corridors before her are less extravagant and more elegant, with carpeted stone floors, wood-paneled walls, and a glass ceiling revealing a greater superstructure of a dome in the center of which is a grand and beautiful wisteria at least thirty-feet tall. Accentuated by the lighting of dim lanterns, the wisteria casts a deep velvet glow through the glass, shades shifting as its colorful leaves and branches twist, sway, and fall in some mysterious indoor wind.

Eventually Clymene comes to a circular reception hall. Guildworkers in beige robes are busy engaging visitors or performing clerical tasks. Some carry baskets of multicolored, multifaceted mineral rocks, each roughly spherical and small enough to fit in a hand.

A guildworker approaches Clymene. "I am a factotum of the guild. You are new here, so let me explain our two basic services. Our theaters, Ren Hall, Elloweth Theater, and the Northumber Amphitheater, regularly host performances such as ballet, opera, or orchestra, plays, dramatic and musical, and contests, martial, magical, and skillful. What's available changes on a daily basis, so if you'd like to hear more, let me know.

"We also have the Sensoriums, where by magic you may experience events or sensations collected from across the planes within the safety of our rooms. A quick word of warning: Some of what you may experience in our sensoriums may be quite intense. For short experiences, ranging from about a dozen to two dozen minutes, the cost is a flat ten gold. Half-an-hour to an hour, twenty. Four hours or above, one hundred, and these must be reserved a week in advance.

"Alternatively, you may wish to join our guild. There are several benefits to this. First, we reserve a body of experiences only for members. These are typically rarer or not otherwise suitable for entertaining the masses. Second, we buy and sell magical and psionic items and have many far-reaching supply chains for such goods. Third, we bank. To join, you will have to contribute five interesting experiences, one for each sense, or one particularly rare experience. If we deem your contributions insufficient, you may try again at a later date.

"Finally, if you do not wish to join, we still would like to purchase interesting experiences from travelers. For particularly novel ones, we may even pay in magical goods."


"Thank you for the wine, but I will not keep you any longer. If I find Iris, I will Send to you. May your steps be as swift and inevitable as death and may you find rest at the end of your journey."

Malbert inclines his head. "Some parting words: Many from my world have sought this wizard, and most have failed. Ages ago, however, one is said to have succeeded. Aaren d'Cannith. Among the powers of my world, it is whispered that his wish even came true. But he paid the ultimate price. On his deathbed, his soul did not go to Dolurrh where the dead rest. No: It was dragged away by terrible forces of distant realms to spend an eternity in torment. If this Azarah isn't some devil, I'd be very much surprised.

"Farewell, traveler of Oerth. I hope fate is kinder to us both."

Wisp, Eilyra, and Raila catch up in the halls.

[Archmage1]

Seeing Greymote in the halls once more, without Malbert, Eilyra is somewhat disappointed, but she does her best not to show it, instead trying to smile in a friendly way.
Greymote... without Malbert. Well, that's either irrelevant, or rather important. So... How to determine which is which. Hm... Greymote isn't likely to tell me, unless I can persuade her that it's in her interest? But it probably isn't, which means persuading her that I'm her friend, or trying to be? But if she's had bad experiences with demons in her past, that isn't too likely, not in one conversation. I'd need to convince her that I had similar experiences, and more reasons to dislike them than she does, which, I suppose, is true, but convincing her would probably take a better speaker than I. So... Try for a truce?
"Ah, Miss Greymote. What a pleasure it is to meet you again. I realize that we didn't exactly get off on the right foot, but I'm not really sure what I did to offend you? Might you be willing to consider overlooking it? Truly, I don't mean you any harm, and I think we can help each other."
She pauses for a moment, before she extends her hand.
"Call me Eilyra."
As she speaks, her tail rests calmly behind her, only the very tip flicking back and forth.

[dextercorvia]

Wisp is a bit startled to see the others without Clymene. I'm surprised the demon left her on her own, and to follow me it appears. At least Malbert is gone. If he thought she was delaying his quest, it might have gotten one of the others killed.

The other voice never really left, but it was louder now that Malbert had left. Take her peace offering. We need her to find Azarah Tor.

I'm not looking for Tor. I'm here to find Steele and get back my diamonds. If the planars try to stop me, there will be war. Wisp had tried ignoring the voice, but responding to it doesn't seem to be better.

You need allies to fight a war. The voice grows quieter then as though it knows it has won.

Wisps mouth smiles, but it doesn't touch her eyes. "I suppose you are correct, Eilyra. You may call me Wisp. I'm surprised that you would be willing to help me with finding my thief, though. You scoffed earlier at my ability to help find this wizard."

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Seeing Eilyra go off with Raila after the old man on her tip, and Clymene trying out the Sensoriums, it looked like it was down to her and the holy roller.

"Well, what of it, prime, want to hit up the other planewalkers in this case and see if any have the dark on this Refuge of Color?" she asked, turning to Faris, and for the first time getting a good look at him she was surprised at what she saw. "Huh. You don't have a single bit of jink on you, do you? Even that pigsticker of yours is just a piece of tree. How you gonna scrag any planar blood like that?"

Detect Psionics (magic-psionics transparency) at will.

[TankLaser007]

As Clymene leaves his eyes follow her until she disappears through the large doors, when the rest have left he turns his full attention to Jhessail. He looks to his spear the back to her, "This..." he says holding it slightly between them, "...is Dawn. The name carries more meaning in our native language"

"What is it you said 'belief makes the wheel turn?' well my belief sustains and supports me, and Dawn has scragged more spellslingers than I can count, jan and efreet among them." there is a glint in his eyes and perhaps the traces of a smile in the crinkle of their corners, "if you think there is something to be gained than I will follow your lead, and help where I may."

[Gryps2]

Looking at the wisteria as she passes, Clymene reflects on how nice it would be to relax under its boughs, if she could relax. But there is business to attend to, and no time for fantasies. Seeing the guildworkers carrying the multi-hued rocks, she grows curious. Perhaps these are how the memories the Society takes are stored and distributed?

Her train of thought is interrupted by the approach of the guildworker. Listening to their spiel quickly bores her, and she glazes over more of the information until how to join is mentioned. "What kind of experiences do you traffic in?" she asks, looking over at the baskets of rocks being shuffled about. "I don't have any pleasant ones, but I have ones that could be considered... rare."

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

In the quiet reception chamber, the factotum engages Clymene.


"What kind of experiences do you traffic in?" she asks, looking over at the baskets of rocks being shuffled about. "I don't have any pleasant ones, but I have ones that could be considered... rare."

"Any and every kind," says the factotum. "Many think we traffic in experiences for pleasure. Indeed, outsiders come here and request the same few every time. Indescribable ecstasy, utter vindication, feylike whimsy, rapturous wonder. Occasionally more complex experiences, such as slaying a red wyrm on a stony mountain, hunting a serial killer in city sewers, defending an innocent farmer against a heartless magistrate. A few dabble in the more controversial. Instead of slaying a dragon, they'd rather be the dragon and kidnap a princess. Instead of hunting a killer, they'd rather be the killer. And so on.

"But our former factol Montgomery rightly argued that we limit ourselves by only experiencing that which are wish-fulfillment fantasies. She believed, as do today most members of our guild and the sensates in Arborea, that by opening ourselves up to discomfort and pain we expand our being. Very rarely do we ever see a request for unbearable regret or crushing guilt, for instance, but experiencing that memory for myself changed my life. Knowing loss and hardship is an essential part of life. Forgive me stranger, but judging by the wear on your blade and armor I'd say you understand this well."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra smiles merrily at Wisp's answer.
Thief? I was assuming she was using a euphemism. Maybe she's serious? I suppose it doesn't matter too much, really. After all, maybe looking for one lost thing will help me find another. If not, well, whatever was stolen is bound to be valuable, and possibly acquirable.
"It's nice to meet you, Wisp."
She pauses for a moment, before she continues, sounding somewhat thoughtful.
"I thought Greymote sounded overly formal. As for earlier... dear, you were being quite disruptive, and if I wanted to put a group together to pursue mutual goals, I needed to discredit you, to encourage working together. If we split up, I suspect that half of us would be dead within three days, which would be problematical, since I don't want to die."
She frowns, looking somewhat sad.
"Of course, such tactics leave something of a foul taste in the mouth, but I've grown used to being rejected by all. It limits my options, somewhat."
Her frown fades, shifting her face to one of serenity.
"But yes, it's possible that finding your thief might, in some way, lead us to Azarah. If not, if we find him first, you should be able to wish yourself to your lost property, and handle things that way. I don't suppose you heard anything additional about Azarah? At the moment, we seem to be low on potential leads."
And if I can't find one, or fake it, then I'm unlikely to remain in control, and if I lose control, I'll probably be ousted. But I've probably got a day or two before that. I might be able to hire a messenger, and have him claim to be from Annali, with a dubious lead? One that does lead to treasure of some sort? Regardless, I doubt that she knows anything of use, since if she did, she'd have said no.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Blimey, I can sodding well respect that, prime," Jhessail replied with a nod and a look of grudging acceptance on her face.

"Er, Faris, is it? When this job's done, Faris, you and I oughtta have a right good jawing session on the nature of belief--though to be safe, Dawn and Force," she paused, holding up her bow staff, "Oughtta be set aside first, lest we start poking holes in each other and not in our arguments."

With that, she motioned toward the door that led to the classroom area.

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Jhessail and Faris approach the door to the lecture halls and classrooms. A guildworker watching the door asks for ten gold each.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Each? Bugger! I don't have that kind of coin!" Jhessail exclaimed. She looked over at Faris, then seemed to make her mind up as to what to do. "Oh, sod it, you go. You seem a nice enough bloke, and to them you're just some clueless random, while I'm a known basher from the war, so you'll get more of the real chant out of them than I will. Though if anyone asks, you didn't get a copper outta me. Can't have word getting out 'round the Cage that I've gone soft on power-pushers. 'Sides, that graybeard knew something, and I want to know what."

With that she pulled 10 gold out of her haversack and paid the guildworker for Faris' entry fee.

[dextercorvia]

Wisp nods acknowledgement, "It's my own fault. When you lead with your bosum, I assumed that you were a simple trollop. That lead me to miss it when you outmaneuvered me. Rest assured, I no longer underestimate you."

"The old man... I suppose I should send you after him, because of all the time you would waste trying to find him. But, if you were successful, I feel like it would mean your death." Even though the thought of removing the competition is appealing to Wisp, she doesn't really want to cause the woman's demise.

"To be more honest than I'd like, I have no interest in your death. It is safe to say that way is a dead end." And I definitely don't want to delay Malbert.

"What were you able to get from the tauric woman downstairs?" Wisp shakes her head slightly as she realizes how she sounds. "I do not want a wish granted. I was raised on tales of foolish men and their captive ifriti. A few diamonds are not worth the risk. My reputation for not tolerating betrayal, however. That is worth crossing planes for.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra shakes her head sadly at Wisp's statement, but she looks like she's trying to conceal her anger.
Thinking me a Trollop. The gall of her. I suppose she has no idea who I am, but the thought remains. Calm. Calm. Now is not the time for anger. Calm must prevail.
After a long moment, she speaks, her voice cool.
"Dear, I am hardly a trollop. Now, why would finding the old man be my death? To my knowledge, I don't have any living enemies at present, and if he's in Sigil, he's unlikely to be killing whomever he sees. As for Annali, little. Evidently the knowledge was restricted solely to the factol, who is rather dead. Clymene is working on gaining access to her records, but if it was so secret, it is rather unlikely there will be a record. I'd suggest checking with the instructors here, they might have heard of the Refuge of Color."

[Gryps2]

As the guildworker speaks, Clymene feels her eyes grow moist for no reason she can explain. How wonderful it might be, to have memories from someone who did not have to labor under a curse like hers. Perhaps this society can give her more than just a way to Azarah Tor. Perhaps she would not even need the wizard, if she had at her disposal a bevy of happy memories.

She shakes her head. In the end, it wouldn't last. She used to drink to try and escape her inner fury, but it only helped for a while. No, she would not give in so easily. Wiping her eyes, she manages to keep her voice steady. "Yes, I understand. I think I know what memory to give." she says, before adding, "After I join, will I be allowed into the Guildhall at Arborea? Do you have a portal leading to it?"

[dextercorvia]

A grin turns up the corners of Wisp's mouth. So. She's not impervious to emotion.

"Suit yourself and chase after him if you want. After all, maybe I just wasn't up to the task. Maybe you would have an easier time of it."

She takes a pair of dice from one of her pockets and sings a short limerick. When she blows on the dice, they are gone.


Finally someone mentioned the Refuge of Color in front of Step. Casting Improvisation, adding 28 luck points to the bonus pool. Spending 7 each on Arcana and Planes.

Knowledge Arcana [roll0]
Knowledge Planes [roll1]
Bardic Knowledge [roll2]

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


Wiping her eyes, she manages to keep her voice steady. "Yes, I understand. I think I know what memory to give." she says, before adding, "After I join, will I be allowed into the Guildhall at Arborea? Do you have a portal leading to it?"

The factotum shakes his head. "We have portals aplenty, but I'm doubtful there's one leading directly to the Gilded Hall in Arborea. The simplest route to my knowledge is to use one of Ramander's nearby portals to the gate-town of Sylvania, then from there to use the Gate to Arborea. I know not the lay of the land of the Olympian Glades, so past that, I cannot help. We of the Guild have many talented planeswalkers in our employ, however. For pay, I'm sure most would be happy to lead you to the Gilded Hall.

"If you wish to join, please follow me."

Unless Clymene declines, the factotum leads Clymene through a series of quiet, gently curving halls lined with doors to identical small rooms, each accompanied by a brass placard with a description and number. The first rooms are marked Storage, Files, or Stairway, but after a few halls, all the remaining rooms are marked Sensorium.

Walking for what seems like minutes, the factotum stops in from of Sensorium 182 and ushers Clymene in. It is a quiet chamber, well-lit and elegant, but consists of only a cushioned lounge, a wooden pedestal, and a small, square pool of clean, running water. Atop the pedestal is one of the spherical mineral rocks Clymene saw earlier.

"Clear your mind and slow your breathing," says the factotum. "When you are ready, merely rest your hand upon the recorder—that rock there—and think of the memory." With a bow, he leaves and shuts the door.

Silence, but for the sound of the pool, water gently streaming from a small font.


With that she pulled 10 gold out of her haversack and paid the guildworker for Faris' entry fee.

Faris is ushered through the door. He finds himself in a great hall, busy with students and instructors either in gowns, for academic lectures, or in armor, for more practical training. The place is loud with chatter and echoing footsteps. Chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling and the walls are plastered with large posters depicting the kind of images one would find in manuscripts and textbooks. This wing is comprised of several levels, each of which contains lecture halls, training classrooms, libraries, and instructors' offices. A quick survey would tell Faris that almost every vocation and discipline of knowledge is represented here.


"Suit yourself and chase after him if you want. After all, maybe I just wasn't up to the task. Maybe you would have an easier time of it."

She takes a pair of dice from one of her pockets and sings a short limerick. When she blows on the dice, they are gone.

The Refuge of Color is an enigmatic kingdom in the Quasielemental Plane of Radiance. Wisp knows this. Wisp also knows it is one of the most obscure subjects in the study of the Inner Planes, and of those who know what it is, an even tinier handful have actually been.

Nevertheless, it is a name she has also seen mentioned in arcane texts, if tangentially. Supposedly a great eldritch observatory was constructed here for the rulers of the land, said to be an artifact capable of incredible feats of divination and transmutation. This is also an extremely obscure piece of knowledge. More obscure yet is what the observatory actually does, and unfortunately, Wisp does not know.

[Archmage1]

So, not willing to share her information? Interesting, and something to be remembered.
Eilyra, easily recognizing the spell, remains silent, looking curiously at Wisp.
Improvisation... an odd choice for a cleric. And she doesn't carry an instrument, nor does she seem to have the face or skills of one. So, perhaps a metacaster of some sort?

[dextercorvia]

Wisp begins answering the unspoken question, "A charm for luck that a minst..." when she remembers learning that phrase, Refuge of Color.

"I'm sorry, did you say Refuge of Color? I think it would be best if we found the others. I trust they are all with Clymene?" She looks downward and into the heart of the structure, where she can feel the tug of consciousness.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra seems to be rather disappointed by Wisp's answer, but she takes it in stride.
So, she intends on using whatever it is that she remembered as leverage? I think she might end up regretting that. Especially if I help her along.
"Of course, dear. If you would like to share with the group, that's perfectly reasonable. Raila, do you think you can find Jhessail and Faris? I'm sure Wisp can find Clymene."
Even as she speaks, she turns about, and starts moving back towards the central atrium, in hopes of catching up to her allies there.
Being seen to value her input should help. Not sure if I should go with her, or Wisp. Raila is probably more reliable, I suppose...

[TankLaser007]

Faris looked around the large series of classes, diagrams, boards and etchings. It was overwhelming. Moreson based upon the fact that the young warrior could not read. Most of his peers, like himself, where well versed in the oral traditions of thier people. He like many others had memorised thousands of verses of poetry, histories, and the series of of strictures and guidance from the Law Giver. He never understood why the Ajam felt such a drive to write things down.

He need to see what he could find out about this Refuge of Colour or this Wizard, he looked about for someone who seemed both wise and welcoming. Looking for anyone who might remind him of one of the Hakim who used to teach them at the village.


Putting these here if relevant:
[roll0] +2 with anyone of Good Alignment
[roll1]

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

After Faris had gone, Jhessail went back and climbed the stairs up to the plaza to meet up with the others.

"Well? Did you get the chant out of that graybeard? Azarah's name shook something loose in that brain-box of his," she asked, mainly directing her question to Eilyra.

[Archmage1]

Elyria gives a frustrated look to Jhessail.
"Apparently, he departed before we arrived, and only said that he'll kill anyone who tries to follow. I'm afraid you'll need to ask Wisp for more details than that."

[Gryps2]

Taking a seat, Clymene glances around the chamber, trying to relax herself as best she can. Carefully, she removes the gauntlet from her left hand, revealing not skin and flesh, but an appendage of iron and wood. Flexing it tenatively, she meditates on it momentarily before placing it on the recorder and closing her eyes.

It was dawn, and the slowly rising sun caused light to splash off of the river next to the centaurs' camp. She and Cardiff had separated; each given the task to hunt down and kill the tribe's druids. The Brotherhood was planning on using poisons to help end the war in their favor, and wanted to eliminate anyone who could cure or mitigate its effectiveness. The druid she had tracked was an elder, surrounded by a small detchment of bodyguards. All the druids now were either old or very young. The best of them had already been killed in the fighting,

Stepping towards the camp, Clymene drew her sword, feeling a tear trickle down her face as her blood ran cold. Now, so close to the moment of release, the echoes of wrath that clouded her mind fell to silence, and she could feel the power surging through her veins. The centaurs had noticed her now, but it was too late. One, picking up a spear, shouted before hurling himself at her. Ducking to the side, she hewed his legs out from underneath him, pivoting to sever his spine as he fell.

Two more in front of her, with bows. One arrow caught her in the chest, but she could barely feel it as she spoke a word, manticore wings springing from her back as she lunged, closing the gap in a blink of an eye. One lost his head, the other an arm, and then some ribs as Clymene's falchion bit into her chest. Looking through the unfolding chaos, she couldn't see the druid, but there were plenty more bodies to butcher. Another came at her, with one of their thin, curved swords. More talented than the previous warriors, but still no match for her. Clymene's mind and body sang together, creating a perfect melody of steel and sinew. It was beautiful, at least for the moment, but she knew it would be only sickening when the fury subsidied. Don't ruin it for me, she thought, shoving the thought back into the recesses of her mind, not now.

Smashing through the warrior's blade, Clymene clove him nearly in twain, before she was struck from the side, electricity arcing in the air, the smell of ozone mixing with blood as pain shot up her shoulder. Glancing at her left arm, she saw it had been cut off above the elbow. Stumbling backwards, she glared balefully her assailaint: a centauress, properly armored in a suit of mail, wielding a sword in two hands, her long dark hair pulled back into a tail.

"You won't last long with that injury," she said, in slow Common. "Lay down your weapon. You can't use it with one hand anyway."

"Jaka!" Two of the others that remained were calling to her as they galloped up.

She waved them back. "Take Elder Volai away from here! I'll deal with this one."

Clymene glared balefully, straightening up. Her falchion was heavy in her right hand, and would be clumsy in combat. But she had rage to spare, and spat back at Jaka. "You'll regret not taking my head."

Whispering words in her lilting Sylvan tongue, Jaka wove another spell over her blade. "Your Brotherhood never understood the true value of life. Not even your own."

Clymene had no words left, and threw herself forward into combat. Their blades clashed and slid, and Clymene felt an electric jolt in her side, the pain of which was diminished as her blade smashed into Jaka's shoulder.

Metal screamed against metal as their continued to struggle, blood coloring the grass crimson. In desperation, Jaka reared and brought her full weight down on Clymene, her hoofs pounding on her chest, pinning her right arm and snapping the bone. Screaming as her rage started to leave her, she directed the last of it into a psychic roar, battering Jaka with sheer force. Blood sprang from the centauress's ears and nose, and she collapsed fully onto Clymene, pinning her underneath. Bleeding and trapped, Clymene struggled until unconsciousness came.

Pain brought her back to world. She was off the battlefield, inside one of the Brotherhood's machine chambers. Cardiff was there, standing behind a trio of dwarves who were huddled over her. She tried to move, but she had been strapped down tightly. Another lance of pain travelled up her arms, and she sobbed.

"Cardiff! It hurts!" she choked out.

"I'm sure it does." he said, laconically. He never really seemed to care, particularly when she needed him most. "But you're not any use to me with no arms."

"What-" Her speech was cut off by another wave of pain. She tried to twist, to look down to see what they were doing, but she was secured too tightly. She had to endure what seemed like an endless amount of twisting, pulling, cutting and the endless groan and shrieking of machinery.

"There you are. Superior in every way to the original." said one of the dwarves, backing away and looking down at her in satisfaction. "Thank you for your cooperation, Cardiff. Much was learned from this procedure. Soon, we'll be able to create combat prothesis for every limb. Completely artificial soldiers won't be too far behind."

Cardiff scoffed, and whatever he said was lost to Clymene as she finally raised her arms up. In place of her arms there were bulky limbs of wood and metal. Golem arms. Machine arms. A wave of nausea stole over her. They were her arms, and they fit her perfectly.

Taking her hand off the recorder, Clymene put a hand to her temple, trying to still the feeling of queasiness that had built up during her remembrance. Weakly, she called out. "I'm done. I'm finished."

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


He need to see what he could find out about this Refuge of Colour or this Wizard, he looked about for someone who seemed both wise and welcoming. Looking for anyone who might remind him of one of the Hakim who used to teach them at the village.

Following word of mouth to the offices of planar specialists, Faris reaches the office of one Jorgen Haem, a senior researcher in cosmology. A passing student had said that Jorgen was reasonably friendly and about as knowledgeable as one could get, at least in the confines of Clerk's Ward.

At Jorgen's door, Faris is greeted by a wizened, bespectacled gnome. After exchanging minor pleasantries, Faris asks his question and Jorgen answers simply that the Refuge of Colors is a region of the Quasielemental Plane of Radiance and that few save for the most intrepid of planewalkers know any more. He recommends speaking to Hav'run Thain of the Planewalker's Guild in the Infinite Staircase. He is nonetheless happy to answer any further questions.

Outside of Faris' conversation with Jorgen, any further searching on Faris' part reveals two other possible leads. The first is likely Sigil's most powerful spellcaster and knowledgeable loremaster, the so-called Master of the Bones, Lothar the Old, who may be found somewhere in the Lower Ward—"hire a tout!" is what passerby tell Faris if he asks for specifics. The second is the most experienced planewalker known to Sigil, Tarsheva Longreach, though finding her might be a bit of an issue. Faris is told to seek Kylie of the Escorts and Touts Guild if he wishes to find Tarsheva.


Taking her hand off the recorder, Clymene put a hand to her temple, trying to still the feeling of queasiness that had built up during her remembrance. Weakly, she called out. "I'm done. I'm finished."

The status informs Wisp that Clymene is undergoing a great deal of stress but is otherwise unharmed.
The factotum gently opens the door to the sensorium. "I need your name. When you are ready, you should return to the reception chamber. A Guild officer will be with you shortly to inform you of our decision."

Assuming Clymene gives some name, hers or otherwise (a Bluff check in the latter case), and waits in the reception chamber, only a dozen minutes pass before she is approached by Annali.

"The Guild's your kip now," says Annali with a small smile. "Sensates too, but don't chant it too loud, lest Her Dread Majesty mistake you for a factioneer. Not much ceremony I'm afraid, but all the Festhall's yours to walk now. You need something, ask any guildworker." With a bow, Annali leaves.

Clymene gains darkvision 60 ft., a +1 bonus to saves vs. poison, and a +1 bonus to initiative.


After Faris had gone, Jhessail went back and climbed the stairs up to the plaza to meet up with the others.

Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Wisp are in the second floor halls.

Jhessail senses something is wrong. The people in the halls incoming from the direction of the atrium, the main entrance room on the first floor, are whispering to one another. While it is near-impossible to hear what they are saying due to the general chatter of the crowd, she has a hunch that something potentially dangerous is happening in the atrium. The people from there are nervous and excitable, a sort of tension before a storm, like deer at night craning their necks at a distant wolf's howl. At least they are not screaming, so whatever danger is present, nobody has been hurt yet.

[dextercorvia]

Wisp remembers seeing Jhessail outside, but she had been too caught up in her own business to pay much heed. "I would be the Wisp that Eilyra is referring to. I don't believe we have met, but I assume that like the rest of the people I've met today, you seek a certain wizard. I believe I know where to find this Refuge of Color, and we were on our way to collect the others -- so I can tell it all at once -- when you..."

Tiny lines appear in the corners of Wisp's eyes. She is puzzled and worried about Clymene. "I don't think she needs rescued, but whatever is happening to Clymene is not pleasant. I think we should head downstairs just in case."

[tonberryking]

"Raila, do you think you can find Jhessail and Faris? I'm sure Wisp can find Clymene."[/i]

"As long as they didn't gallop up tens of hundreds of stairs..."

The centaur has remained as quiet as someone who actually cannot speak the languages being thrown around but she breaks her silence to answer Elyria. Jhessial is soon accounted for, however, and the centaur heads back down the way they came to find the remaining robed spearman who her new ally has requested.

And yet... she can't help but check on something for her own interests before she (hopefully) heads to the atrium he's been headed towards. Raila tries to find that other tauric woman for a quick chat...


I'm very sorry for my silence... RL issues and the next time I turned around two days had passed:

[roll0] spot check to find the sheep taur--- Raila wants to ask if there are any tauric communities in Sigil and where they are if so

[roll1] Gather info check. "Hey did anybody see where a turbaned spear guy go?"

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Though she tried to pay attention to what both Eilyra and Wisp were saying since it sounded important, Jhessail was distracted by something she sensed was happening down in the atrium. Around the same time as Wisp's train of thought changed track, the psionic archer drew three arrows from her quiver and seemed to briefly concentrate on something not readily apparent. Manifesting Animal Affinity (Dexterity), ML 14, 3 PPs, shared with her Psicrystal.

"Aye, but be on your guard, 'cause unless I really have gone barmy someone down there's about to get scragged," Jhessail replied to her newest acquaintance. Then, suddenly her eyes darted searchingly around the group, which she realized had gotten smaller once again. "Four-legs--er, Raila--where'd she trot off to?"

[TankLaser007]

Having finished speaking to those sages within, he thanks each in turn and after having spent enough time with pleasantries, not too much as to be imposing and too little to seem rude or rushed he made his way back to the doors leading out. This had been very productive, when in doubt speak to the people of knowledge as the adage went. Much more productive than their previous time speaking, seemingly, in circles. Dawn and the new information in hand, he stepped back out into the main hall to await the others.

[Gryps2]

"Clymene. Just... Clymene." she says, before nodding and standing back up awkwardly.

After strapping her gauntlet back on, Clymene slowly paces back to the reception area, sitting down heavily and hugging herself as she bows her head. Dragging that memory up had shaken her badly, and she knew she was in for an unpleasant few hours until the feeling passed. She hoped it had been worth it, that the Sensates had found it valuable enough to grant her membership.

Stewing in her own wretchedness, Clymene is taken by surprise when Annali addresses her. She attempts to smile back, but it's tight and sickly. "I see. Thank you." she says, before standing up. "I need to go, but... I'll return soon."

With that, she starts to hastily make her way back out into the main chamber of the Festhall. She felt sick, and she knew the feeling would stay with her for hours unless she found some way to deaden it. A craven hunger for battle creeps into her mind, but she tries to shake it off. She can't fight here. Desperately, she starts to look for an exit. Meeting up with the others would have to wait.

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

Clymene, Raila, and Faris step into the atrium at (more or less) the same time, although across the room from one another. Go to the Festhall map to see the layout. Don't feel obligated to fight just because there's a beautiful Google Docs map that took me 30+ minutes to make.

Civilians, humanoid or otherwise, have vacated the center of the atrium. They whisper among themselves, though at a deathly quiet volume, lest they get pulled into whatever is happening.

In the center stands Annali Webspinner with a lit pipe in one hand and a sleek glaive in the other resting on her shoulder. Across from her at a comfortable distance stand two figures. The first wears a breastplate and wields a greatsword. This one's marked h1 on the map. The second wears lightly-fitted robes and carries a wand. This one's marked h2. Roughly thirty feet behind them is a large blue dragon, sitting lazily but watching observantly. This is the large D. They are accompanied by a cohort of twelve in chainmail wielding spears and with light crossbows strapped to their backs. These are marked h*.

"...and you haven't yet told me your ride," says Annali, "so I'm going to have to ask you to go scrag someone else."

"A dangerous blood who goes by Malbert Ermengard," says the greatsword-user, "put seventy-three in the dead-book, twenty-two cagers, fourteen martyrs, and thirty-seven sodkillers. The cagers were all the Master of Portal's toll-collectors, so besides homicide our felon may as well have nicked a dangerous blood's jink."

"Strictly speaking evasion of portal tolls is not theft," says the wand-user smoothly, "but homicide is plenty illegal enough."

Annali looks unimpressed. "If your felon's here, he'll pike it soon enough. 'Sides, why are both factors of the Sodkillers here?"

"And our big blue friend," says the greatsword-user.

"All three of us are necessary," says the wand-user. "That's seventy-three declared homicides, due to the relative unimportance of the victims. We suspect an additional dozen of some of Sigil's more powerful residents, but the Triad has been more cautious in announcing these. In any case, the fugitive is dangerous and the gnome woman outside, who claims to work here, has correctly identified him. Said he entered the Festhall with a friend."

Annali sighs. "Look, I won't step between a sodkiller and a murderer, 'specially not two sodkiller factors, but I don't want a bloodbath in my case."

"Our numbers are a precaution," says the wand-user with a bow. "As you say, Malbert has likely already fled. We are merely looking to speak with his friend."

"And scrub her if she doesn't give us a serenade," says the greatsword-user.

[TankLaser007]

Faris moves forward, standing next to another person and scanning the hall for those he had come here with, "Who are they?" he asks nodding to the spear wielding men and the dragon. "Are they the guard here?"

Adjusted map to indicate Faris' new position. moved 30' next to what is presumably one of the bystanders.

[Archmage1]

Seeing Raila more or less trot off on her own, Eilyra looks momentarily non-plussed, for a moment, before Jhessail speaks up.
"Something going on? Should be interesting, I suppose. And we need to go through there anyway, so, shall we?"
Trouble of some sort? Hm... if it's a fight, I should be able to go for the upper floors, and avoid it, and if not, well, it's not likely to be my concern. And it might be interesting. And... hm... I might need to cement the loyalty of my allies? But hopefully not.
With a brief gesture to both Jhessail and Wisp, Eilyra starts walking towards the atrium, arriving just in time to hear the Factotum surrender.
As she leans over the railing at the top of the staircase, and looks about, she considers her options. Her wings are clearly visible, but her flicking tail, trailing behind her is not visible from the ground as she lounges on the railing.
Hm... Malbert... that sounds rather like the Malby Wisp came in with. A pity I made the effort of making things up to her. Now would be the perfect time to get rid of her, but nooo... If I turn her in now, I lose any trust I've accrued, and that makes things much harder in the long run. With a bit of luck, I can avoid this whole mess. Or... hm... that might be for the best. If he is a murderer, then perhaps Wisp is his next chosen victim? But if she got information out of him. No, that information wouldn't be worth anything, since it would just be to lure her to a trap. But after my overture, I need to make at least a modicum of effort. So... imply he departed? I haven't done anything illegal since I got here, and I don't think they'll attempt to arrest me for giving them some information, but I don't want to appear eager, so... offer some information they already have, and see if they're willing to offer compensation? Then direct them to the bar, hopefully giving Wisp enough warning for her to evade them, or, well, not? With some luck, this might encourage them to reciprocate, and buy time,
in the event that any of Sarya's enemies come after me here.
After a few moments of thought, she calls out to the guards, her melodious voice more than loud enough to carry, both forwards, to the guards, and back, to Wisp.
"Oh, my. How interesting. You're looking for a murderer? Called Malbert? I just came inside myself, so do you have a description of the berk? I'm afraid I haven't encountered anyone by that name, but I imagine a wanted murderer wouldn't use his real name. I might have a bit of dark, if you've got some jink."
Hopefully, I can spin this properly. Tell Wisp what's coming, give her plenty of time to depart, or disguise herself, or whatever. And maybe, just maybe, get a reward. And if she gets caught, despite my best efforts... I should be able to talk my way out of any trouble.

[dextercorvia]

Step

What is Eilyra shouting about? Malbert? They can't have caught him, here. So, if they are looking for him, they'll be looking for me.

Wisp's eyes dart around looking for a bolt hole. Nothing. Not my home territory.

Wisp is in trouble.

Not yet. She can handle bandits.

Wisp lays a hand on Jhessail. "You, planar. I didn't catch your name. I know you don't owe me anything, but I have to get away, to help him. The Refuge of Color that you and everyone is looking for -- it's in the plane of Radiance. Make sure the Spear and the Maenad find out. Buy me a minute if you can."

She turns to dart back up the stairs with an ethereal chant on her lips and disappears.

These aren't just bandits.

Running up stairs while invisible is more challenging that she thought it would be, and Wisp doesn't make it far before stumbling. Her unseen body smacks hard into the marble staircase.

No! She's falling! Not again, I can reach her...

Go brother. Save her. Save us all. Find Azarah Tor.

The crumpled figure lays there a moment, without wind, collecting himself. As the still invisible dwarf rights himself, something feels odd. Why am I wearing a dress? How drunk was I? A thought changes his clothes to the soft homespun tunic his mother made for him, and another switches his armor to his usual plate. The fog lifts slightly, and he remembers why he's there. He remembers seeing Wisp with that man and her crying. He remembers that someone is looking for her.

A rich baritone voice announces Grelljyc's descent. "By Moradin's Beard, they will not take Wisp from me." Surprisingly light steps carry him downward as swiftly as his legs will bear.


Casting Greater Invisibility, Duration 14 rounds

Changing to Grelljyc, also activating Shiftweave and Glamer.

If it isn't obvious, I'm using that bluish color for Grelljyc stuck inside of Wisp, but switched to the usual Bold Dark Gray when he starts driving Step. The Dominant will always use Bold Dark Gray, and all inner voices use unbolded. So the true Step uses unbold Dark Gray to influence his driver.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail craned her neck to hear what was going on downstairs, though that wasn't the only thing she was concentrating on. Manifesting Animal Affinity (Wisdom), ML 14, shared, 3 PP.

"Murderer? Oh bugger, it better not be--" she muttered, only to be interrupted by Wisp's sudden request and subsequent disappearance. "I, wait, what? Sodding Hells!"

Jhessail momentarily considered manifesting Touchsight just to keep tabs on her, but decided against it. Instead, she floated out to the atrium to get a look at the situation, arrows still in hand. Manifesting Psionic Flight, ML 12, shared, 7 PP.

"Oi! Just how many factions did Her Serenity keep Caged anyhow? First Ciphers, now the Red Death? Yet my kip's been nicked by mobsters--or worse, monks," she spat as she landed atop the nearest large pillar. "Well I sure picked a good day to climb the Spire. And now you bashers barge in and bugger up the first lead I've had on this hunt? Nope, not a good day. Not. At. All."

She tapped the stonework with the end of her bow impatiently as she uttered those last three words.

[TankLaser007]

The demoness starts speaking and the warrior begins to feel increasingly uneasy about these unfolding events. Still not exactly sure as to what is occurring and more importantly, why. Faris takes a moment to centre himself, he thinks about this 'murder' Malbert these 'Sodkillers' and this entire débâcle unfolding and meditates upon the repercussions of becoming involved, interceding on behalf if this Malbert. It does seem that these 'Sodkillers' might be the rightful authorities on such matters here, they have yet been challenged on their claims by any of the locals...

Using his Gift of Discernment to contemplate the repercussions in line with his vows and alignment in taking actions in defence of this Malbert or opposing these 'Sodkillers'

[Gryps2]

Clymene stops as she reaches the atrium, observing the events unfold. Annali is standing alone against a formidable host of soldiers, Eilyra is talking to them in that innuendo-laden way of hers, and Jhessail, the woman that Clymene only half-remembers, takes to the air. Although she doesn't have a clear understanding of what is going on, Clymene knows when a fight is brewing. A fight she so greatly craves.

Wordlessly, she manifests an invisible disc of force in front of her (manifesting Force Screen, ML 7, 1 PP), before she unslings her falchion from her back and approaches the stand-off, the tears streaking from her eyes turning black. Opening her mouth, she disgorges a hideous amount of amorpha, which covers her body and conceals her from view. Manifesting Greater Concealing Amorpha, ML 7, 5 PP.

Looking over at her opponents, she remembers the advice of her mentor. The spellcaster is the main threat, he would have to be dealt with first. Then the dragon. The swordsman could wait until after. If the caster and dragon went down, chances are he would flee with the others. The dragon would be a difficult opponent, but a dragon of that size wasn't beyond her. Clymene feels her mind steel itself, winding like a spring, ready to release. It was time to fulfill her purpose in this world, to kill and kill until she died herself, or Azarah Tor rewrote her destiny. Activating Chain of Personal Superiority and Chain of Defensive Posture.

Current AC 30, t 15, ff 30, total concealment (50% miss chance)

Force Screen 2/70 rounds
Greater Concealing Amorpha 1/7 rounds
Chain of Personal Superiority 1/10 rounds
Chain of Defensive Posture 1/10 rounds

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


Faris moves forward, standing next to another person and scanning the hall for those he had come here with, "Who are they?" he asks nodding to the spear wielding men and the dragon. "Are they the guard here?"

"You're a prime, eh? Well, the chant's a bit tangled. These bashers are somewhere between 'guard' and 'mercenary'. Council says they more or less got the run of the Cage though, so it don't make a big difference to fellas like us. The Martyrs be the ones who'll try to scrag you. The Sodkillers'll just write you in the dead-book."


"Oh, my. How interesting. You're looking for a murderer? Called Malbert? I just came inside myself, so do you have a description of the berk? I'm afraid I haven't encountered anyone by that name, but I imagine a wanted murderer wouldn't use his real name. I might have a bit of dark, if you've got some jink."

"Indeed we do," says the wand-user, looking up, "but we're not the Sons of Mercy. We don't make a habit of paying for information."

The greatsword-user laughs. "What the factor's saying is be a good plane-touched and share what you've got."

"If you think you know something, let us decide if it's relevant or not. Well?"


"Oi! Just how many factions did Her Serenity keep Caged anyhow? First Ciphers, now the Red Death? Yet my kip's been nicked by mobsters--or worse, monks," she spat as she landed atop the nearest large pillar. "Well I sure picked a good day to climb the Spire. And now you bashers barge in and bugger up the first lead I've had on this hunt? Nope, not a good day. Not. At. All."

"You are an Athar then," says the wand-user. "For the record, the Lady only asked the existing factions to leave. The Sodkillers are very much new. I myself am a veteran of the Blood War. Also, last I heard the Ciphers were gone."

"Defier looks ready to fight," says the greatsword-user. "Also, I think the sod's talking about Factol Rhys still making her case in the Cage. Well, she isn't a factol anymore."

The blue dragon's eyes narrow as it judges the situation. With a certain tactical deliberateness, it takes off in a rush of wind and lands with a heavy thud but forty feet away near the entrance.

"My thoughts as well," says the wand-user grimly. He mutters a few words of power and his eyes begin glowing blue.

You recognize the spell. The wand-user cast arcane eye. More or less everyone in the room is well-within the range of the effect.
The greatsword-user coolly hefts his blade. "Aye, mark the maenad."

Annali throws Clymene a sharp look before looking back to the wand-user. "Let the random sods off the streets leave the hall first, then you can have your 'conversation'. I want no part in this."

"But of course," says the wand-user. He begins murmuring an arcane incantation.

Step and Eilyra recognize the wand-user's new spell as greater invisibility.
Notions flood Faris' mind...

Defending Malbert, in general, may cause a loss of alignment.

Fighting the Sodkillers, at this specific juncture, will not cause a loss of alignment. However, there is a risk of innocents being harmed...
If you fight right now, how will this work? Will you be exchanging blows with the twelve marked h* in addition to the big baddies? Will I be rolling initiatives for every h and o token on the map? The answer is "no, no way". Really I only care about the following pieces: h1, h2, and D. Moreover you folk are plenty strong enough and in most cases this is utterly obvious to the 'lesser' folk. So assuming a fight happens instantly:
Every so often after a turn I will move civilians. They have no initiative. It just happens. Chaotically. They die to any hit that deals more than 3 hp damage. AC is 10 and saves are automatically failed.
Every round on initiative order 11 (losing ties) anyone in range of h*'s light crossbows will get attacked 1-2 times, depending. These ones die to any hit that deals more than 12 hp damage (or if I judge this one really should be dead). They have AC 16 and automatically fail saves.Bear in mind, at the moment the civilians are about to start clearing away (at the prompting of Annali). So the fight proper hasn't started yet, unless you choose it.

[Archmage1]

At the Sodkiller's description of her as a good planetouched, Eilyra laughs, a fairly melodious sound, although it does seem to put one on edge. After a few moments, she calms down, although her voice retains echoes of laughter.
Not willing to pay for information, even after it's verified. How do they expect to find anything? But good planetouched... that's worth a little, I suppose. It's been a while since I've had reason to laugh.
"Then I'm sure it's not relevant to you. After all, if it were, you would be wiling to offer something for it. As you're not, it isn't."
And... really, minions? Planning to start a fight to protect someone who really isn't worth protecting? Or who is capable of protecting himself? Wisp should be long gone by now. Clearly, you need better training.
She looks around the room, filled with people who are clearly getting ready for combat, before she continues, her voice now far colder.
"Since it looks like everyone's getting ready for a fight, might I ask why? I don't think we're very interested in protecting a murderer."
And if I'm saying it, it must be true, right? Seriously, starting a fight with the Sodkillers here would be idiotic.
As she speaks, her eyes dance between her allies, trying to convey the message.
"And I'm sure he was just looking for more victims, if he's just killing people at random. So whomever he was talking to is probably dead already."
She pauses, and sounds more thoughtful.
"Of course, if he isn't killing people at random, you might have more luck finding out why he's targeting people. But, then, as we already covered, my information is of no value to you, so what do I know?"
And let's see if there has been a pattern. Might be useful to know.

[TankLaser007]

Patting the man on the shoulder he thanks him, "Thank you for the chant, now please get yourself to safety ... just in case."

He steps forward a bit more as he speaks, raising his voice, Dawn's head still capped by the leather sheath, he grips the long spear lightly using it as a walking stick intending to show he is not intending to fight.

"I think the plane touched has spoken truthfully. No one here is interested in protecting or harbouring a murderer. Seventy-three already slain? Surely such a man, ...no beast is neither in need nor deserving of protection. Let us discuss this civilly, there is no need for anyone else to come to harm on account of this criminal. If you like, I will help to find and apprehend him, I have some experience in such work. Let us discuss these matters elsewhere -- privately, without the presence of so many of the uninvolved. There is no need to disturb these good people any further, least of all our gracious host Annali" he looks towards the horned tauric offering her a quick bow, "whose pardon I beg for these events."

"What say you blood?" he says looking to the man with the greatsword, "do you not agree there has been enough of war and bloodshed here?"


[roll0] +2 for those of Good alignment (but judging by the presence of a chromatic dragon I am not too hopeful)

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Sodkillers? So, you went from killing mercy--which, say what you will, is still a belief--to... what, killing sods? How is that gonna move the Wheel?" she asked half-mockingly but also half-seriously. "But yes, I sodding well am a Defier, and that murderer's got at least a bit of the dark on a spellslinger I'm chasing on Athar business. He can hang from the leafless tree for all I care, Hells I'll even help you string him up myself--but not until I extract my piece from him first. Deal?"

[dextercorvia]

Step (Grelljyc)

Grell peers over the edge of the railing, trying to track the dragon as it moves under cover. Looking down at those seeking to harm a woman he loves is almost too much. This isn't Mari. They haven't caught Wisp. She is safe. Still, the situation is too much like one long ago. A day that he lost Mari, and with her, a piece of himself.

He edges softly along the balcony, trying to catch sight of where the dragon slithered off to. Maybe this situation doesn't have to end in violence, but deep inside his mind, the voices are telling him otherwise.

Move action to Balcony Z34, standard action to activate Greater Blurring.

[tonberryking]

This is really one of those days, Raila thinks to herself, her pointed ears seemingly twitching every damn time someone uses Sigil-slang.

But she actually recognizes this escalating situation, even as she tries not to loosen the katana by her side.

Back when she was a rebellious foal, when there were still factions that hadn't merged into two sides: "The Cult" and "Literally Everybody Else"... sometimes a fight would spill out of control and draw others into the fray who'd randomly attack anyone that crossed them. These spills were damnably costly and in a place this big, well...there would be alot of collateral damage or worse, continued chaos as more friends of those who fell would join in the ever growing fight.

Casters and warriors are nothing new to her, this centaur still fresh from a war, but a gods-damned dragon... Hearing Eilrya above her, she remains in the entry way, conveniently blocking any on foot attempt to get to the closest stairwell (by her approximation) to the lady on the balcony.


Holding actions, but I'm rolling initiative in case Raila needs to come to anybody's aide:

[roll0]

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

As Annali shouts instructions the atrium begins to clear out. The last of the stragglers are moving towards the nearest exists while Annali trots back towards the Sensoriums. The wand-user vanishes in a blink. An airy quietness settles in the atrium, punctuated only by the footsteps of those leaving.


"Then I'm sure it's not relevant to you. After all, if it were, you would be wiling to offer something for it. As you're not, it isn't."

"Since it looks like everyone's getting ready for a fight, might I ask why? I don't think we're very interested in protecting a murderer."

"And I'm sure he was just looking for more victims, if he's just killing people at random. So whomever he was talking to is probably dead already."

"Of course, if he isn't killing people at random, you might have more luck finding out why he's targeting people. But, then, as we already covered, my information is of no value to you, so what do I know?"

The greatsword-user looks at Eilyra curiously. "The usual ride is we clear a case, get in a fight or two, and get our jink. This time we run into a few bashers who're awfully eager to chat while on the hunt for a real bloody planewalker. Peery stuff if you ask me."

He looks for his friend who is nowhere to be seen, nor heard, for a punctuated silence followed his words.

With a shrug, the greatsword-user says, "Well, if he's got nothing to wag on about, then neither do I."


Patting the man on the shoulder he thanks him, "Thank you for the chant, now please get yourself to safety ... just in case."

He steps forward a bit more as he speaks, raising his voice, Dawn's head still capped by the leather sheath, he grips the long spear lightly using it as a walking stick intending to show he is not intending to fight.

"I think the plane touched has spoken truthfully. No one here is interested in protecting or harbouring a murderer. Seventy-three already slain? Surely such a man, ...no beast is neither in need nor deserving of protection. Let us discuss this civilly, there is no need for anyone else to come to harm on account of this criminal. If you like, I will help to find and apprehend him, I have some experience in such work. Let us discuss these matters elsewhere -- privately, without the presence of so many of the uninvolved. There is no need to disturb these good people any further, least of all our gracious host Annali" he looks towards the horned tauric offering her a quick bow, "whose pardon I beg for these events."

"What say you blood?" he says looking to the man with the greatsword, "do you not agree there has been enough of war and bloodshed here?"

With a small smile, the greatsword-user says, "Sound just like a martyr, but naturally false. We are short of one deader, and that one is Malbert."

"Hold," says the disembodied voice of the wand-user, seemingly coming from midair. "My experiences in the Blood Wars tell me this one is truthful—I have met plenty a liar and few are like him. Which leads me to wonder why he is part of an act which can obviously only favor the mass murderer. Our demands are simple: Move out of our way. We search for Malbert or his friend, and we only intend to kill Malbert on sight. If his friend is innocent, she will cooperate."

"Right. The Council's jink only covers Malbert."


"Sodkillers? So, you went from killing mercy--which, say what you will, is still a belief--to... what, killing sods? How is that gonna move the Wheel?" she asked half-mockingly but also half-seriously. "But yes, I sodding well am a Defier, and that murderer's got at least a bit of the dark on a spellslinger I'm chasing on Athar business. He can hang from the leafless tree for all I care, Hells I'll even help you string him up myself--but not until I extract my piece from him first. Deal?"

"It ain't gonna move the Wheel," says the greatsword-user. "That's why the Lady abides us."

"We will have to agree to disagree, my comrade-in-arms," comes the wand-user's voice. "All beliefs move the Wheel, whether they're coherent or not. The Lady merely has no interest in domestic governance. But we're getting sidetracked. What deal can be made when this fugitive's too dangerous to even try to capture? No, the Council has a kill order. I know you're familiar with this side of the Mercykillers.

"Speaking of which," he continues, switching to Draconic as he finishes his clause, followed by a string of guttural gibberish to all except those who understand the language.

The blue dragon responds in the same language, a deep, rumbling voice.

Exchanged words in Draconic.

Wand-user: "Illusion on the balcony. Our target?"

Dragon: "If so, a foolish attempt at distraction. I sense it. I am ready."
The atrium continues to clear of civilians. The center stage is more or less empty save for the relevant actors but most civilians are near an exit. Annali continues directing nearby civilians as she glances periodically at the verbal conflict to see if it will escalate into anything nonverbal.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra shrugs at the greatsword user's sword, before she gestures grandly around the atrium, smiling in a friendly sort of way as she does.
"Dear, you're in the Civic Festhall. Did you really expect it to be just another day of work?"
It sounds like this is going to be resolved peacefully, which is all for the good, but... Clymene... she's losing it. Which isn't good.
Seeing Clymene almost in a frenzy, Eilyra calls out to her, her voice pitched to be soothing, and calming.
"Clymene, dear? Calm down, please, the nice Sodkillers are just going to ask questions, there's no reason to get violent."
I just hope that's enough.
Her erstwhile minion calmed down(Hopefully), Eilyra turns her attention back to the guards, and speaks up once more, her tone serious.
"I think Malbert is gone, if he was the older gentleman walking in with the younger woman. I was hoping to see if he had some information, so I looked for him after I finished speaking to Annali, but he was gone. I did talk to the woman in question, but all she said was that he'd kill me if I tried to follow, then she left."
Illusion on the balcony? Ah, the greater blurring effect, I believe.
Hearing the conversation in Draconic, Eilyra joins in, the gutteral words flowing easily from her fiendish tongue.

"A dwarf on the balcony felt it would be a good idea to blur themselves. But feel free to look. I don't recognize him."

[TankLaser007]

Hearing these Sodkillers claim they will not kill any except this Malbert or those who oppose them and seeing that Eilyra seems to have taken the responsibility for seeing that the others remain calm and non-confrontational Faris relaxes. He nods in the direction of the man with the sword and the unheard voice, and salutes the soldiers by raising his spear.

"Since you will not harm any of those here, save those who fight you, we leave you to your work and wish you well, our offer stands should you need assistance in dealing with this murderer." Faris sits next one of the pillars leaning his back against it with his spear resting across his thighs as he awaits for those he came with to make their way out of the Festhall.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail rolled her eyes at the wizard's turning himself invisible.

"Dangerous to you maybe," Jhessail scoffed, then after a pause to conduct a quick cost-benefit analysis she lets out a heavy sigh. "Bloody Hells. Fine, go try killing your sod, but know I won't forget this. What are seventy-three names in the dead book to me when untold millions of Lost souls, though guilty of no crime, are suffering an eternity of torment far greater than even Her Dread Majesty could devise?"

So saying, she floated down to where Eilyra was standing and spoke to her in the vile language of the Abyss.


"I know what the Refuge of Color is, or rather where it is. We should go back to the inn and decide our next move."

[Archmage1]

Sensing that her potential minions seemed to be doing the right thing, Eilyra's attention is drawn to Jhessail as the woman descends towards her.
Hm... this seems to be going well, now, but Jhessail... she went with Faris, to investigate... did she find something?
Jhessails words resonate with the language her existence taught her, and she finds herself nodding in agreement with her.
She did find something, which is a good start. If she knows where it is, we merely need to find a portal from here to there. And this is, after all, the city of gates.

"I can't argue with that. We'll just need to round up the others before we go, since I'm sure they'll be interested, and we might need them before this is over. A pity in some respects, I suppose, needing to leave here. I was hoping to find some additional spells here, but that can wait, since it would take hours."
We might lose Clymene, and Faris, but Clymene seems to be rather a loose cannon, and Faris... is a double edged blade. We might be better off without them. But if we do get into a fight, they could be extremely helpful. Ah, well, if it were easy, everyone would do it.

[dextercorvia]

Grell concentrates on the invisible caster's words, trying to pinpoint where they are coming from. The words echo oddly in this large and oddly shaped room, and he is unable to get a fix on the wand weilder.

[Gryps2]

Clymene wails internally as Annali spurns the conflict; now she doesn't even have the salve of helping her new faction to numb the guilt. She hears Eilyra dimly, and turns to look at her, shivering slightly. "They're not here to ask questions, they're here to fight. You don't bring a dragon to ask questions." she says, looking back and scrutinizing the forces. That damn wizard... by now, he was probably airborne, with who knows how many spells cast on him. She should have just attacked immediately, she had ways of dealing with invisibility. But she now merely stands her ground. "Whoever their target is has been scared off already. If they don't want to fight, they should just go. They're wasting timing."

Looking around, she could see that none of her companions were itching for a fight. If the Sodkillers would just leave, the temptation would reside. Just go! she wills at them, futilely.

Current AC 30, t 15, ff 30, total concealment (50% miss chance)

Force Screen 3/70 rounds
Greater Concealing Amorpha 2/7 rounds
Chain of Personal Superiority 2/10 rounds
Chain of Defensive Posture 2/10 rounds

[Archmage1]

Looks like she isn't going to be that easy to control. Hm... From her conversation with Raila, she's participated in a slaughter, and she regrets it, but mentioning that... probably a good chance it'll upset her more, and it'll certainly cause issues with Raila. So, ask nicely? Or reason? I think I like reason much better. Now...
Eilyra's eyes go straight to Clymene as she resists her efforts to calm her, her tone pitched in an effort to be even more calming.
"Clymene, now is not the time for a fight. If you really want to fight, Annali mentioned that there were fighting rings here, and I'm sure we could find you an opponent. But the dragon... these are likely some of the best that the Sodkillers have available, pursuing murderer. They're expecting to fight this Malbert, not us. This isn't our battle. They're just looking for more information, now. Please, keep calm."

[tonberryking]

Of course it would be Clymene, Raila thinks, her braided tail flicking inspite of being so bound up.

"Clymene! Remember what you said to me, earlier! If you really meant wanting to change then don't. Don't give in to picking a fight with these ...this posse looking for a criminal. I'm sure it's like Eilrya said; we'll have our proper battles soon enough."

The centaur paws a hoof against the floor, giving the dragon and the greatsword user an even, respectful look. She may be keeping her... acquaintance out of trouble, but she doesn't want them taking things any further, either.

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)

The civilians have finished leaving. Annali glances once more at the remaining parties before shaking her head and joining the civilians.

"Outside," orders the greatsword-user to the sodkiller guards, "mind the case's exits." They obediently back out through the entrance doors.

The final clatter of mail boots on marble echoes as the last of the guards exit. The dragon moves forward, its steps slow and heavy. The atrium is now clear of all, besides those involved in the exchange currently happening.


Eilyra shrugs at the greatsword user's sword, before she gestures grandly around the atrium, smiling in a friendly sort of way as she does.
"Dear, you're in the Civic Festhall. Did you really expect it to be just another day of work?"

A laugh. "For me? Aye. Malbert isn't some brick on the wall and neither are we. If your work's to put an ogre mage in the dead-book, you don't walk into his cave to share the chant with his minions. They resist, they get written in too."


"I think Malbert is gone, if he was the older gentleman walking in with the younger woman. I was hoping to see if he had some information, so I looked for him after I finished speaking to Annali, but he was gone. I did talk to the woman in question, but all she said was that he'd kill me if I tried to follow, then she left."

"A charming cutter."

"What information did you seek from Malbert?" comes the voice of the wand-user.


Hearing the conversation in Draconic, Eilyra joins in, the gutteral words flowing easily from her fiendish tongue.

"A dwarf on the balcony felt it would be a good idea to blur themselves. But feel free to look. I don't recognize him."

Grell's invisibility is still active. It will be for, let's say, another minute. Timing is a bit weird at this juncture.

In Common, the wand-user's voice says, "Show yourself then, dwarf. Prove to us you are neither one of our targets nor a threat."


"Since you will not harm any of those here, save those who fight you, we leave you to your work and wish you well, our offer stands should you need assistance in dealing with this murderer." Faris sits next one of the pillars leaning his back against it with his spear resting across his thighs as he awaits for those he came with to make their way out of the Festhall.

"This one's reasonable! By the Nine Layers of Baator has this exchange been unnecessary. Stop inviting hostilities and step aside. We only seek the fugitive and his friend.

Except you, my invisible dwarf friend. You need to drop the illusion. We will not ask again."


"Dangerous to you maybe," Jhessail scoffed, then after a pause to conduct a quick cost-benefit analysis she lets out a heavy sigh. "Bloody Hells. Fine, go try killing your sod, but know I won't forget this. What are seventy-three names in the dead book to me when untold millions of Lost souls, though guilty of no crime, are suffering an eternity of torment far greater than even Her Dread Majesty could devise?"

"The reference is lost on me."

"Faerûn's Wall of the Faithless," says the greatsword-user. "Some prime powers decided to punish defiers by nailing them to a wall for eternity."

"Ah, I've never paid attention to any of the material planes. Most are interchangeable and all are awfully fragile, should any real planar conflict spill over into their little lives. Deepest sympathies, miss. Gods have always been unjust, only some admit to it."


Clymene wails internally as Annali spurns the conflict; now she doesn't even have the salve of helping her new faction to numb the guilt. She hears Eilyra dimly, and turns to look at her, shivering slightly. "They're not here to ask questions, they're here to fight. You don't bring a dragon to ask questions." she says, looking back and scrutinizing the forces. That damn wizard... by now, he was probably airborne, with who knows how many spells cast on him. She should have just attacked immediately, she had ways of dealing with invisibility. But she now merely stands her ground. "Whoever their target is has been scared off already. If they don't want to fight, they should just go. They're wasting timing."

"I have no idea why you insist on making this difficult. If you are not guilty, get out of our way. If we find the fugitive, there will be bloodshed. If we find his friend, we will attempt to question her. If neither are true, we won't be wasting any more of our time here.

Make your choice. The wrong one will show you why we're called the Sodkillers."

[Archmage1]

Sensing that if she didn't want to start a fight, she would need to answer quickly, and honestly, Eilyra shrugs, before resuming lounging against the railing.
If I'm going to need to defuse a fight, then I need to comply for the moment. Frustrating. If my companions weren't nuts, this would be a lot easier. Really, law enforcement in pursuit of someone who isn't us, and they prepare for a fight. True, Wisp might be in a bit of trouble, but given warning, it shouldn't be hard for her to evade notice in a building this size. Then again, these Sodkillers are really, really easy to dislike, and if I ever run into them in a dark alley, with no witnesses... But I need to remain calm, which is getting to be quite difficult.
"I don't know. He seemed agitated about something, and I was hoping to find out what that was."
She smiles momentarily, looking rater predatory as she does so.
"I suppose now I do. Much less interesting than I was hoping, but that happens, sometimes."

[dextercorvia]

"Very well," the dwarf's voice resounds through the atrium. Grelljyc appears on the balcony. His plate armor is blazoned with Moradin's holy symbol, only partially obscured by his long dark beard. To mage-sight, he is a riot of faint auras with one moderate aura rising through the clamor.

"I will not stand in your way. I was looking for someone when I heard the commotion. I figured staying quiet and out of the way was the best way for your business to get out of my business as quickly as possible."

By my count 8 faint auras (transmutation x4, conjuration x2, abjuration x1, divination x1) and 1 moderate (abjuration).

[Gryps2]

Hearing Raila's voice added to Eilyra's, Clymene cringes. With the centauress watching, even fighting has lost its savor. Why had she agreed to help her in the first place? It seemed like escaping misery for even a moment had been impossible ever since she left the Brotherhood. She faintly recalled something her githzerai captors had told her, in their imposing fortress on Limbo.

The road to perfection is long and arduous. Our brethren githyanki abandoned it for vengeance, and know no peace. Let yourself learn from their lesson.

Lowering her sword, Clymene takes a step or two back, though her manifestations remain in place. "You're the ones making this difficult. If you really know what a maenad is, then you should know better than to antagonize me so." she says, her voice a pathetic husk.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Jhessail looked back in surprise at the greatsword-wielder, amazed he had heard of the object of her psychic torment, though she had to correct him on one point.

"Not nailed to the Wall, cutter--they are the Wall," she said grimly, then after giving them a respectful nod turned back to Eilyra. "Right. We done here?"

[Archmage1]

Eilyra nods at Jhessail's words.
"We are. It's definitely time to go."
If these Sodkillers will let us... if they don't, things might get messy.

[rigsmal]

CIVIC FESTHALL (Step, Clymene, Jhessail, Raila, Eilyra, and Faris)


"Very well," the dwarf's voice resounds through the atrium. Grelljyc appears on the balcony. His plate armor is blazoned with Moradin's holy symbol, only partially obscured by his long dark beard. To mage-sight, he is a riot of faint auras with one moderate aura rising through the clamor.

"I will not stand in your way. I was looking for someone when I heard the commotion. I figured staying quiet and out of the way was the best way for your business to get out of my business as quickly as possible."

The greatsword-user chuckles. "Look like a lady in a dress to you?"

With a sigh the wand-user reappears midair, floating effortlessly. "What, did you think it was so unreasonable I check?" He drifts back to the ground and lands.


Lowering her sword, Clymene takes a step or two back, though her manifestations remain in place. "You're the ones making this difficult. If you really know what a maenad is, then you should know better than to antagonize me so." she says, her voice a pathetic husk.

"Don't know of a 'maenad'," says the greatsword-user.

"Very angry people," says the wand-user dryly. "Quick way to get a free fight."


"Not nailed to the Wall, cutter--they are the Wall," she said grimly, then after giving them a respectful nod turned back to Eilyra. "Right. We done here?"

"Done we are," says the wand-user, "and precious minutes behind. Our seers put them at a bar, which would be..."

The greatsword-user points. "Up and right. Nagaro's like to already be there. This gad of adventurers really held us."

The two factors and the dragon walk past Raila and further into the Festhall.

As their footsteps recede, the last of which were the distant thuds of the dragon's, Annali peeks through the spireward doors and steps in. "Ugh, I hope the sodkillers don't smash the bars up." Turning to Clymene she says, "Appreciate you for not fighting. They're a right bunch of bashers." This time addressing Eilyra. "The spellslinger you're looking for, well, I haven't lanned much on the fellow, but for keeping our new guildmember out of a fight, I'll leaf through our recorders and see if I can't find you something. But first I've got to mind them at the bars." She leaves.

Slowly, people begin filtering back into the Festhall, and despite chatter mainly being about the Sodkiller presence, business returns to normal.

[Archmage1]

Seeing the sodkillers finally stand down, Eilyra waits paitently as they depart.
Why is it that law enforcement are always, always so arrogant? Is it a requirement of their duty? Or training? Or power corrupting?
When Annali steps back in, Eilyra looks over to her, and listens, before she spreads her wings with a snap, and glides down to the lower level, her hands resting on her thighs, holding her dress in place.
Hm... looks like we've impressed her. But new member? She spoke to Clymene? So she joined? Interesting.
"Thank you, Annali. I appreciate your help. Good luck with the Sods."
After the woman leaves, Eilyra looks at her companions, before gesturing to the door outside. After a moment, she starts walking towards it, clearly meaning to leave.

[TankLaser007]

Using the spear as leverage Faris rises to his feet and begins to exit as the others make their way to the door. nodding to those in the throngs making their way back in. He casts a look over his shoulder at the dragon. He had heard enough stories about those particular beasts and even seen some of their handy work before. Fortunately there was no violence and none, hurt.

[dextercorvia]

Grelljyc takes another staircase down while they are ascending and follows the others outside. He knows they had been talking with Wisp earlier, and while they had not betrayed her, he has to be sure.

[Gryps2]

Eventually, the amorpha surrounding her fades, revealing Clymene underneath, looking haggard and sickened. She nods mutely to Annali as she speaks to her, wordlessly shuffling out to follow Eilyra out of the Festhall. She feels awful, the pleased looks from Annali and Eilyra doing little to dampen her low spirits.

Dully, she looks around for someone she can talk to. "Where's Wisp?" she murmurs, not seeing the necromancer in the atrium.

[Archmage1]

As the group starts walking towards the Whole Note Inn, Eilyra responds to Clymene's question, her voice light, almost casual.
"I'm sure she'll be all right. After all, how much trouble can she get in?"
While she speaks, she moves closer to Clymene, before she speaks again, in a low voice, meant just for Clymene.
"What we don't know, we can't reveal. She had plenty of time, and I don't think the Sodkillers planned on killing her anyway, unless she was actively helping a mass murderer kill more people."
Time to plant some seeds...
Her melodious voice pauses for a moment, to let doubt sink in, before continuing.
"But I'm sure she doesn't have anything to worry about. We'll talk more at the inn, yes?"
And I can delay explaining how bad an idea that whole thing was until we get somewhere more private.

[dextercorvia]

Grell stands outside the festhall for a moment until he notes the Maenad joining the group. While he waits, the dwarf spots a sign for Pestle and Kiln's apothecary and heads over to see their wares. "Do you happen to have any tindertwigs?" he asks, flashing 5 gold coins.

He can sense the Maenad. Her name is Clymene. That voice in his head sounds familiar, it is one he has listened to often. Clymene, he thinks to himself. Why can I feel her in my head? No matter. He decides to let them get a head start and follow from a distance.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

Lost in thought, it took some time before Clymene's question registered in Jhessail's mind, though when it finally did she recalled that the woman who had been with the alleged mass murderer, who had given her at least a bit of information to go on, had called herself Wisp and had been friendly with both the maenad and the human earlier outside the Festhall.

"The one you called Wisp? She ran off soon as she heard that old cutter's name bandied about by those bashers. Whether to warn him, or more likely to get clear of that case entirely, I've not the faintest," she finally said, then recalling one more thing added, "Wasn't she at the Note? I think she flounced out just as I was flouncing in."

[Gryps2]

Clymene's eyes narrow dangerously. "They were seeking Wisp?" she hisses, looking back towards the atrium. She should have killed them. But now, if she tried to search for Wisp, all she would do is possibly lead them to her.

Hearing Jhessail causes her to relax a little. "Yes, we should go there. Perhaps she will have returned." she says, her voice losing its edge. "But still, why would she have been talking to someone like that?" She might have been recruiting someone else to help her with Steele. If she was willing to deal with Clymene, then her ethics were probably already dubious at best. The ambivalence of the situation does nothing to lighten Clymene's mood: no one truly righteous would be willing to stand with her long, but if Wisp turned out to be another Cardiff...

I'll have to speak with her myself, she thinks. She glances over at Eilyra, wishing she could trust her. Eilyra's words certainly sounded pleasant, but she talked so much, it made Clymene uneasy. There was such a thing as being too appealing. She reminded Clymene of Faris in that way; they were both two sides on the same side, bright to the point of discomfort. But whereas Faris was a man without guile, Eilyra seemed bottomless, a dark chasm best left unplumbed.

[Archmage1]

Seeing that Clymene had calmed down for the moment, Eilyra turns to Jhessail, her expression and voice both calm, and at ease.
"She was at the Whole Note, but she felt that our company was too limiting, and left. It's not surprising that she'd end up at the Festhall, since it was the obvious first step. And you were able to find the second one, for which I am quite grateful. Thank you."
And that's that, I hope. Now, to reinforce Raila. And maybe chastise the others. Just a bit. But not too much, I just want them to hesitate a bit before diving into a mess. Maybe long enough to follow my lead.
Her plan made, and immediate concerns addressed, Eilyra turns to Raila, with a smile in her voice and a bounce in her step.
"Thank you for helping to defuse the situation, Raila. That could have gotten quite ugly."
Hopefully, Faris and Clymene get the rebuke. Raila does seem to be rather a lot more reliable than the two of them.
Ah, well. The way they were acting, they must either be quite powerful, or have a death wish. Both are useful enough, so long as I can avoid getting splashed on.

[rigsmal]

WHOLE NOTE INN

In dusk—or whatever passes for dusk in the City of Doors—Clerk's Ward quiets down and the wrought iron street lamps of continual flame flicker on, the cobblestone streets partially lit between stucco townhouses carrying denizens, from roughly humanoid to fully monstrous, scaled or furry, angelic or demonic, to their destinations. The clerks themselves, gowned and laden with books, transit from office to home, a daily procession. The sound of wind, the muted chatter of the city, the distant hammerings, sawings, animals chirping, barking, hissing, the mail-clad footsteps of guards, all greet you in the twilight. The familiar monolithic structures, colossal and silhouetted dark against the sky, the skyscraping conjoined towers of the Civic Festhall, the massive citadel that is the Hall of Records, and the vast dome and spire that is the Hall of Speakers, are distant but visible, landmarks to guide you to your destinations.

The Whole Note Inn, large by prime standards, is small in comparison, but its comforting and homely facade, its familiarity, stands out in the cool, strange streets of Sigil. Through the oaken doors you are greeted by warmth and firelight. The main room's bars and tables host patrons talking loudly, eating, drinking, and upon the stage are dancing and singing maids, their cheerful tunes carrying clearly across all other sounds. The floor and interior balconies are full of dinnertime guests, and servers dash about carrying improbably many plates and cups of steaming foods and fragrant drinks. It is a very different inn from the one you saw at noon.

Neither Abigail nor the half-elf greeter are anywhere to be seen. In their place is a halfling woman dressed plainly, carrying the same leather-bound appointment book the half-elf was. She is smoking a pipe and sitting on a stool, glancing up from time to time at anyone who walks through the inn's front doors. Two guards in leather armor stand nearby watching the daily evening festivities and ensuring they stay that way.

"Well, well!" says the halfling upon seeing Jhessail. "If it isn't the lost girl, climbed the Spire back to the Cage. Raises some flags, that it does, but you can always call us kip. What I can do you for? The chant since the war?"

You recognize the halfling as Diaree, a longtime employee of Abigail's. While Abigail owns the inn, her days of entertainment are over and she only occasionally shows herself in the evening. The half-elf is not new but you do not know him well, since he typically oversees patrons during gentler hours.

Diaree, on the other hand, handles the inn at its most crowded. A sharp-mannered native to Sigil, she is quick to remove overly-rowdy guests. At most times, however, she rarely looks as if she is working; her managed staff works courteously and efficiently, and she typically only steps in if they begin making mistakes. Otherwise she answers the occasional question from guests and keeps to herself in meditative silence, always watchful but contented.

[dextercorvia]

Grelljyc, remembering how long it took Wisp to reach the Civic Festhall earlier, and having a reasonable idea of where the group might go, lingers for mere moments before declaring the tindertwigs to be of inferior quality compared to dwarven work and stalking out of Pestle and Kiln's.

His supernaturally enhanced stride allows him to close the long before reaching the Whole Note. Several times he has to slow himself to stay at a reasonable distance.

[TankLaser007]

Faris follows along behind the group, waiting for a moment to, speak with Jhessail , when they re-enter the inn he thinks he has found a moment to speak with her privately then the halfling approaches her. It seems as if she is well known or connected. While the others find a table, he leans against his spear at a respectful distance waiting for the two to finish their exchange.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Oi, still minding Abigail's case, eh Diaree? Toss any berks out on their brain-boxes lately?" Jhessail replied with a grin, then motioned to the others. "Cutters this here's Diaree. She's here to make sure everyone plays nice--and to turf you right out if you don't. Not that that'll be in the offing, right now I think a quiet, secluded table is what's on order. Afraid the post-war chant'll have to wait as I'm here on Defier business--much as I'd like to hear the dark on who's all filled the void since Darkwood's Folly."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra seems serenely content to follow Jhessail, but she smiles at Diaree when she's introduced, in a friendly sort of way.
Defier business? Aren't the defiers the ones who say all gods are false, or something along those lines? I suppose there was a reason they were mainly on Sigil. Something about lightning bolts from on high... And a quiet table definitely sounds like a good start. Now, how to get a room for free. Get someone else to pay? Probably not the best image to be sending, unless they volunteer, and they wouldn't volunteer unless I hint at it. Or if they're out of rooms? That's possible, but not likely. Time will tell, I suppose.

[rigsmal]

WHOLE NOTE INN

A quiet, secluded table it is.

On the third floor balcony in the corner is a polished wood table with cushioned chairs. From here the festivities are muted and you can again hear yourself talk in a normal voice. Others who chose tables near yours were clearly looking for the same thing, a thickly-robed, tattooed, and green-skinned woman with slits where the nose should be leaning heavily over her table inspecting a large, ornate scroll, a group of three, male human, male dwarf, and female elf, prototypically, obviously a warrior, a cleric, and a wizard in a heated discussion on the ethics of killing goblins, and a hooded, scarved elf woman, features barely visible in the folds of her clothes, gazing over balcony railings at the singing maids far below while taking sips of fragrant cider.

A candle sits at the center of your table radiating a gentle warmth. Those who order dinner are charged six silver for braised lamb shanks, roasted beets, blueberry crumble cake, and a mead brewed and aged in Muspelheim, which, if asked, is the second layer of Ysgard, one of the Outer Planes. The mead is soft and sweet but has a bitter aftertaste. Despite its exotic origins it is not much better than, or particularly distinct from, quality mead from the primes. If asked about this, servers admit the season's batch has been particularly bad, and that the brewers of the Heroic Domains are notoriously inconsistent—"Too busy bashing to be paying mind to the art, yeah?"

[Archmage1]

Settling in her backless chair, Eilyra looks around the room, and tries to take in some of the chaos as she waits for Jhessail to speak.
Hm... debating the merits of killing goblins? The trick there is to either kill them all, or to drive them away. Killing some is almost always a bad decision. That scroll the snake-like woman is reading might be interesting, but it might be nothing as well, but I can hardly read it from here. And I've already got a solid collection of minions. And the elven woman... a spy or agent, perhaps? She certainly seems to be interested in the maids, which is a bit odd. Might need to approach her later. Or... have someone else do it. But they don't know who I am. I suppose we never really did do too much on the planes, so maybe I've been forgotten? I'll need to watch her. The server offering dinner... do I be magnanimous, or stingy? If I to pay anything, It'll be harder to refill my book, but a reputation for stinginess has a lot of drawbacks to it, and dinner for five isn't too expensive. Loyalty, on the other hand, is.

When the server comes by, Eilyra speaks to the group.
"If you're interested in dinner, I'm willing to cover you."
She follows up by ordering dinner for herself, and resumes waiting.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail Zhodani

"Nothing for me," Jhessail said, declining the offer dinner for herself.

Once the others had ordered and the meal was served, she began speaking in hushed tones.

"Right, well, before she piked it out of there, your friend Wisp told me where we can find this so-called Refuge of Color where you-know-who is some kind of star-gazer. She seemed real keen on me clueing the two of you in on it," she said, nodding at Clymene and Faris. "Now, I could've easily slipped outta there myself, taken the nearest door outta the Cage and plane-hopped myself there while you lot sorted out those sods, but I got an itch that it isn't gonna be that simple to find him--and while I'd much rather hunt alone, even I ken to the fact that there's safety in numbers. More well-lanned planewalkers than I must've tailed him there, and yet he's still this great unknown throughout the Wheel. Still, unless any of you had more luck with the Sensates or whatever they're calling themselves now, it's the only real lead I have, so here it is: it's on the Plane of Radiance. If any of you can handle traveling there without burning up or going blind, I suggest we go see this Refuge of Color for ourselves."

[TankLaser007]

Faris, somewhat awkwardly, takes a seat with the others once Jhessail has mentioned the news from Wisp he confirms as much;

"I was informed much the same regarding this place, 'The Plane of Radience' also known as the 'Refuge of Colour' there is a man, Hav'run Thain of the Planewalker's Guild in the Infinite Staircase who I was advised to seek out if more information about this place was to be sought."

He also declines the offer for food, "Then there is the dubious sounding 'Master of Bones' a master of lore and spell... a powerful wizard" the world is almost spat out as if just speaking it filled him with disgust, "... Lothar the Old -- he is in this 'lower ward' I was advise to get a 'tout'?" he looks at Jhessail, "this is a guide yes?" without waiting for her full reply he finishes, "I think a woman by the name of Kylie was mentioned in specific of the Escorts and Touts Guild. It was said she could help us find what or who we are looking for and that she may be able to lead us to a 'planeswalker' called Tarsheva Longreach, who I understand might be able to help us reach this Plane of Radiance."

[dextercorvia]

Grell waits until Clymene has stayed put for a minute then enters the inn, himself, and approaches the halfling. "Good evening, lass. I'm meeting several people here. I believe they are upstairs. Several lasses, mostly scowls, one with hooves, another wings, and one lad with a spear?"

His stomach growls audibly, and Grell honestly can't remember the last meal he's eaten. He slaps two gold coins on the counter and grins through his thick beard. "I can find the way, lass. Would you send up two plates of whatever you are serving for dinner?"

[rigsmal]

Whole Note Inn


Grell waits until Clymene has stayed put for a minute then enters the inn, himself, and approaches the halfling. "Good evening, lass. I'm meeting several people here. I believe they are upstairs. Several lasses, mostly scowls, one with hooves, another wings, and one lad with a spear?"

His stomach growls audibly, and Grell honestly can't remember the last meal he's eaten. He slaps two gold coins on the counter and grins through his thick beard. "I can find the way, lass. Would you send up two plates of whatever you are serving for dinner?"

The halfling Diaree points Grell at the others' table, or towards it rather since it is not quite in view. It would only take a further few minutes for the food to arrive.

[Gryps2]

"I don't eat." replies Clymene, shaking her head slowly to Eilyra as she sits down. She listens to Jhessail and Faris speak, turning over what they're saying in her head. "Burning up, I wouldn't need to worry about. Going blind... we would definitely need to talk with one of the planeswalkers." She frowns slightly. "This will cost a lot in money or favors."

"I was able to join the Society of Sensation, which means we can get into the Gilded Hall in Arborea." she continues, "I was told we could use Ramander's portal to the gate-town of Sylvania, which has a gate to Arborea. We would have to find our way to the Gilded Hall from there, but Arborea shouldn't be a dangerous place for us. I hope." She wasn't certain how well someone like her would be welcomed there, but being a member of the Sensates might be able to buy them passage unmolested through the Olympian Glades.

[Archmage1]

Sitting calmly through Jhessail's explanation, Eilyra looks thoughtful, but before she can speak, Faris begins his own explanation. Listening, she delicatly takes a bite of her delicious lamb, chewing slowly to savor the food.
It's the little things I missed, while banished. Odd, that. I'd have thought that I'd miss the sky, or the wind, and I did, but it was more physical pleasures that I truly missed. The joy of a good meal, the comfort of a good seat, the challenge of a conversation... They all seem so much clearer now. Still, I need to focus. The Plane of Radiance is it? No idea how to get there, but this is Sigil, so I'm sure there's a way, but the real difficulty comes in the planar traits, and the inhabitants. Hm... Radiance, so, bright lights, or colorful lights? Disorienting, blinding light? Maybe something like a snow mask would work? Lose some vision, but better than being blinded. And Jhessail mentioned both... I can probably handle the burning, since I doubt it would be any worse than the hells, and I should be able to survive there, if not comfortably. But, who to talk to...
Her thoughts flicker through her mind, like greased lightning, but Faris soon answers her own unspoken question, and the calm looking woman leans back, slightly, in her chair, listening to the ongoing conversation.
Seems like between the two of them, they've collected all of the information that we might need. But we'll need to approach them, and it's late enough that it would be quite rude to go to them now. It seems that resting here is probably our best bet, despite the air. I'd hoped to be gone, but it clearly isn't to be. We need to be reachable, with two plans in motion. And there's the Guilded Hall, but... I think we can skip that, unless it takes more time to prepare than I think it will. It might be valuable? But if Clymene is a member, it might be best to send her alone, since she should be safe enough, to see if she can pick anything up. Split up, and pursue multiple objectives? I'd need to trust them, but I don't see a reason for them to betray me, yet.
A few moments later, after Faris finishes speaking, Eilyra speaks up once more, her voice cool, and collected.
"It would seem we have a few leads to follow. Unless I'm much mistaken, we'll need to acquire protection for the plane of radiance, ideally, a map of the place, with an idea of where we'll be arriving, and where we want to go. We'll also need supplies, an idea of common threats, and a way to handle them. I know there are a few spells to shield from planar effects, but protecting this many... I'm not certain I could provide reliable protection, and I wouldn't be able to protect anyone without picking up the needed spell, which I lack the funds to do."
She frowns for a moment, before continuing.
"We've got enough leads to chase that it might be worth splitting up, and spending a day following through."
As she speaks, she turns to Clymene.
"Clymene, if we're going to split up, it might be best for you to go to the hall, and see what you can learn in a day. You shouldn't have any issues, and taking non-members with you might make things more difficult for you. And you're not likely to run into trouble along the way, which is good."
Her eyes gleaming with the joy of planning, Eilyra addresses Jhessail next.
"Jhessail, since it seems like you've got the best knowledge of the planes, perhaps you might be able to locate the Planewalker's guild, and approach Hav'run, to see what he's willing to share? Having an idea of what we're walking into could save our lives."
Continuing without a breath, she looks to Faris next.
"And Faris, perhaps you might be willing to talk to Tarsheva, and see if she'll tell you the route? It might be better if she were to act as a guide, but it would likely be more expensive, and I think funding might be a concern. We'll need to discuss before committing to a specific time, since we'll probably need to spend some time acquiring equipment, and possibly the funding to get the equipment."
Finally, her attention flows to Raila.
"Raila, I think we might be best served talking to Lothar, if we can find him. While he might not have direct knowledge of our missing wizard, he is a well known loremaster. He might have information he'd be willing to share that would be very helpful. It's also the lead that's most likely to have us running into trouble along the way, but I think between the two of us, most would seek easier marks. He might also have something he'd like us to do, which could help with our funding limitations."
That should keep everyone busy, and stop any one person from accumulating all of the information and tools we'll need. Lowest chance of betrayal here, and with a bit of luck, Jhessail and Faris will be able to cover for each other. Clymene, Raila and I might not have a guarantee of finding more help, but we should have a decent chance of learning something of interest.
Her golden eyes roam around the table, meeting everyone's eyes momentarily, before she continues.
"I know, splitting up is somewhat risky, but I don't think it's too risky yet, and this might save us a lot of time. And Wisp might come as well, since she should be able to follow you, Clymene. We should probably rest here overnight, then start in the morning, since we don't want to start off on the wrong foot, and wake someone up by visiting in the middle of the night."
Finished with her plan, she calmly takes another bite, chews, then shakes her head sadly at the many non-eaters of the table.
"You should at least try some of the lamb. It really is quite delicious, and you never know how long it'll be before you get a chance to have another delicious meal."

[dextercorvia]

Grelljyc comes across the balcony as Eilyra finishes assigning jobs. He hooks a chair from an empty table, setting it right beside the fiendish woman. He sits down, uninvited. "I have a message from a mutual acquaintance for two True Warriors." His eyes make contact with Faris and Clymene.

"I owe this merchant lass a debt, and she called it in shortly before the earlier unpleasantness with what passes for the guard in this forsaken place. She promised help to at least two of you in a quest to find some, how did you put it? Spellslinger. I suspect that our stern friend will be unable to assist personally, but I will do whatever is in my power," a thumb points to the blazon on his chest, "so long as it doesn't violate my conscience, to help you find Tor. You'll be starting by looking for his observatory in the plane of Radiance, no?"

[TankLaser007]

The man of the desert raises a finger and begins to reply to Eilyra when a Dwarf comes, seemingly out of nowhere.

Faris's eyes narrow slightly. As the Dwarf takes a seat and begins speaking.

"You are claiming to be here on the request of Lady Greymote?"

He leans back slightly before continuing. "I do not recall being introduced to you. I am Faris of Zakhara, who are you and what is your relationship to Greymote. Also there has recently been questions are to our 'mutual acquaintance' it seems she has struck up a friendship with or possibly been somehow caught up in the business of a criminal and murderer. What do you know of this and how can we be assured you, yourself are not working with or for this Malbert.?"

[Archmage1]

Seeing the dwarf set a seat right next to her, then sit in it, Eilyra looks away from her minions, and to the newcomer, her eyes appraising him.
So, this is Wisp's friend? Strange, she never mentioned any friend. And from the sounds of it, she, she had a chance to mention him. It seems likely that she was caught, and now we're under suspicion. Which is odd, but I presume she lied her head off, or else the Sodkillers were annoyed with us. So, I think we need to pointedly reject the dwarf. And in a non-suspicious fashion? Even Faris seems suspicious, which is good. The story does not add up, which means spy, assassin, or some other unsavory type. But for who? Killing him here and now doesn't seem to be acceptable, especially if he's a Sodkiller agent. Try to discourage,
and murder if he leaves Sigil? I do wish Faris hadn't revealed Wisp's name. Might have been a good way to catch him out.
After a few moments, she shakes her head before speaking, her voice icy.
"I'm afraid that I need to side with Faris here. From what you're saying, she was caught by the Sodkillers, but she made no mention at all of you. Which means that you're not who you say you are."
Her eyes look over the table, to see how her future minions were reacting, even as she mentally prepares for a fight.


Also, readying an abrupt jaunt, in the event of her getting attacked.

[tonberryking]

Raila really just wanted to eat. The intricacies of city politics and factions made her head swim, not to mention any difficulties a centaur might have attempting to sit down at a table. She doesn't get a word in edgewise with the halfling, who may have been able to tell her where taurics gather, and attempts to process everything that's happened to day in between eating a rather large meal (by human standards.)


"I regret somewhat having to rely on your instructions without offering mine own insights into these matters, Eilrya, but I think you have the right of it. Also, my being a complete outsider to this place may help in some odd way--If I'm made clear to be a know-nothing from the sticks, then I can't very well have been compromised by one faction some other faction hates? Eh... it sounded better in my mind, but the point remains, I agree with you. At the very least, no body certainly tried to cause trouble for me directly today, and I have no qualms playing bodyguard..."

She's interrupted by the arrival of Grelljyc and then she says something rather angry in Sylvan.

<"Oh for hell's sake...A dwarf!? Damn it all, Eilrya, who was Lady Greymote again? If she has any cultish ties, throw him out and tell him to go sit on an anvil spike...">

[Archmage1]

Eilyra nods at Raila's words, but the arrival of the dwarf forestalls any response she might have made. After she finishes speaking to the dwarf, she switches languages, and answers Raila.
<Slyvan>
"I don't think he's associated with Wisp. I also don't think she was a lady. But I don't know much about her, or, honestly, anyone else at the table. We've all only just met. I'm sure we'll get to know each other better, but for now, we simply haven't had the time. But this dwarf... from the sounds of it, assuming we can trust anything he says, Wisp was caught by the Sodkillers, and was apparently imprisoned, which suggests that she was far more involved with Malbert than we had believed. Which means that the dwarf is probably a Sodkiller agent, which makes things difficult. The good news is that I don't think we have anything to hide from the Sodkillers at the moment. The bad news is that I don't want to rely on that not changing. So, we do need to get rid of the dwarf, but I don't think Clymene is going to be quite so reasonable about this, considering her earlier actions. Which... is going to make things interesting."

[dextercorvia]

"Good on you, Dawn's Spear. I didn't trust the lot of you earlier, either, until I saw you keep quiet as much as possible. You have every right to be mistrustful -- I didn't even give you my name. I was trying to avoid names in case of scryers, but, my name is Grelljyc. I'm from the same plane as Wysteria Greymote. I happened to be in the bar with her and the old man the sodkillers are looking for. They were talking about something and the lass was crying something awful. He had this almost defeated, but driven look about him that isn't so different from what I see around this table. Scary thing that, what a person with nothing left to lose can do. When he left, we talked briefly. She wasn't sure that all of you could be trusted, but had agreed to help Faris and Clymene, here. I owe her a debt that will be almost impossible to pay, so when she asked for my assistance, I gladly gave it."

The dwarf eats heartily has he talks, and little bits of lamb dot his beard. "And, no. She wasn't caught by those Sodkillers. That lass has gotten out of far tighter situations than that goblin parade that passes for a town watch, I'm sure." The pride in his eye when Grell talks of Wisp is tinged with something else -- admiration maybe. Maybe something else.

He doesn't know?

Neither did you.

[Archmage1]

Eilyra shakes her head, firmly, before she speaks, her low tone sounding dangerous.
"An interesting story, but not true. You were not in the bar. So, why don't you try the truth this time?"
He knows her full name, so she was almost certainly caught, and interrogated.

[dextercorvia]

"Moradin's Teeth, did she have you pegged!" The dwarf laughs with the sound of cathedral bells.

"You would be Eilyra, who desperately needs to be in control. Huh, the two of you aren't that different in that regard. No wonder you set her teeth on edge."

Not that different!

"I was in the bar enough to know that you weren't, and I was with her when she bumped into you, the centaur, and the planar just outside it. Why she didn't mention me is her business. I saw she didn't tell you her information, but instead entrusted it to the the planar."

Grell finishes the last of his second mead. "If any of you want to think me a Sodkiller spy, go ahead. But, they sure don't seem like the subtle types to me. Enough, though. Wisp wants me to help you find find Azarah Tor. So I will."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra just shakes her head once more.
"Doubling down on a lie isn't going to help your case. True, I didn't go into the bar, however, it was more than open enough to provide an excellent dwarfless view. More importantly, she didn't know my name until after she left."
Her eyes seem to burn with determination.
"So, who are you, and where is she?"

[TankLaser007]

Faris intently watches the exchange between the two. Trying to divine what exactly the feelings of the others are regarding the unfolding events. He notices Eilyra mention both Clymene and Wisp's name as she spoke some strange language to Raila. There is something threatening in the way this horned one speaks. Perhaps it is his prejudice, yet he feels as if, despite her speaking common, there are other meanings to her speech that he does not always grasp. Yet senses the danger of it none the less.

[dextercorvia]

"Forgive me. Wisp said not to underestimate you, so I assumed you were intelligent enough to understand common. I'll say it again, but slower this time. I was there. You did not see me, but I was there. I was there when you gave your name. I was there on the balcony while you were blabbing on to the Sodkillers."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra laughs at the dwarf's words.
"Still sticking to the same story. You're determined, I'll give you credit for that. But no, you weren't. Unless you're Wisp, Raila or Jhessail in disguise. And since you claim to not be Wisp, and Raila and Jhessail are right here, and I'm quite sure you're not me, that leaves you a liar."
She looks at him once more.
"I'd suggest a better lie, the next time you try to infiltrate a group. Or at least admitting defeat with grace. Wisp did not send you. There are far too many holes in that argument. I'd suggest you leave, unless you would like to try being honest? Staying is unlikely to end well for you."

[dextercorvia]

Grell's voice rises to a falsetto, "I realize that we didn't exactly get off on the right foot, but I'm not really sure what I did to offend you? Might you be willing to consider overlooking it? Truly, I don't mean you any harm, and I think we can help each other."

He pauses for a moment, before he extends his hand. The dwarf's whiskers flare as he grins. His register returns to normal. "There are more things in the planes and the primes, Eilyra, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Admitting when you are wrong is difficult for you, isn't it?"

[Archmage1]

Eilyra shakes her head firmly, and doesn't take the offered hand. Her voice is crisp, and has no doubt.
"You lied upon introduction, and have yet to stop lying. That means that you can't be trusted, and you chose a poor lie, which means that you're likely not even competent. So, no. I don't think so. If you want that answer to change, you will need to tell the truth."
Even if he was in the hallway, I doubt I would have missed him for that long, and if he was in the hallway, he wasn't in the bar. I didn't hear anything. But he did quote correctly, but the timelines certainly don't add up. And there are far, far too many holes in the argument. If Wisp had such an ally, she wouldn't have been seeking guards alone, and no invisibility spell could have lasted that long.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail had been too caught up in considering their next move and weighing the information and suggestions her new acquaintances had provided that she at first didn't notice the dwarf from earlier had sat down to join them--and that even after noticing she was slow to react to his presence there. So, instead of speaking out she listened quietly and observed the situation. Only when it began to get heated did she finally step in.

"Oi, that's enough. Bloody Hells, what was that about picking the wrong day to climb the Spire?" she finally said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She eyed Grelljyc narrowly for a moment and then spoke again. "Right, you know what? I believe you, dwarf--but that doesn't mean I trust you. Everything about you--from your hiding on the balcony, to your answer when the Red Death spotted you, to your trailing us here, to everything that's rattled out of your bone-box since you sat down to stuff it full of mead and mutton--screams stalker to me. And yet I sense your offer's genuine, which makes me wonder if you're trying to ingratiate yourself with this Wisp by cozying up to her friends, and hoping she might drop back into your life if you stick close to us. That about the dark of it, prime?"

[dextercorvia]

"Ach. You sure cast some light on the places a lad would like to leave a little dark, that's for sure. It may be that I didn't just happen to be in the same bar as her and it may also be that I volunteered more than was asked. But, she knows I'm here and the dark of it, as you say, is that I would do anything for that lass. If I had thought she needed another minute to escape, I would have taken on every one of them bully lads. Scary thing that, what a person with nothing left to lose can do."

[Archmage1]

Eilyra looks to the other members of her prospective minions, clearly trying to see what they thought of this.

[Gryps2]

Clymene frowns at the back-and-forth between Grell and Eilyra, growing more frustrated rather than appreciating the details or the skillful dissections. When it dies back, she looks to Grell. "You say Lady Greymote is all right. I want to talk to her. If you can arrange a meeting with her and she confirms your story, I'll believe you." she says, folding her arms over her chest.

Only talking to Wisp would lay all of this to rest, in her mind. Eilyra hates Wisp and would gladly take any excuse to exclude her or her representative from the group, but she was right that Grelljyc was suspicious. Probably not a Sodkiller; nothing about how they handled things in the atrium suggested they were an organization that appreciated finesse. Rather, they seemed to handle things like how she handled things, and if Clymene wanted to get answers out of Eilyra, she'd beat them out of her. It might not be easy, but it was certainly easier than trying to outsmart her.

[TankLaser007]

Faris nods his consent. "This is the most constructive thing said on the matter thus far. Let us speak with 'Wisp' and so what her words are on a great many things which have occurred in her absence."

[tonberryking]

Raila nearly chokes on her food after hearing Clymene, hastily shoving the contents of her last plate down her gullet and draining a jug to wash it away. Regardless of whether it was actually hers or not.

"Guh! For once, I agree with the maenad. Have Lady Greymote herself vouch for you, and maybe we'll give you an even chance... though I'm not on friendly terms with many and any dwarves, fair warning." she means it; Raila would take any--doesn't get us kicked out of the bar-- excuse to lob the dwarf over the railing and down a floor below if she thought him too suspicious or conniving.

[Archmage1]

Opinions gathered, Eilyra resumes eating, clearly enjoying it, while she waits for the dwarf to reply.

[dextercorvia]

He's can't do it. I knew he was too honest for this. Send me back.

No. That is too risky.

All mirth sinks from the dwarf's face. "I wish I could, but I haven't seen her since the Festhall. You can just go on not trusting me. It's not like you trust each other particularly, so I suppose that will have to do."

Not one of the others?

No. Something else. Brace yourself. You've never been through this before.

Grelljyc's face keeps sinking. his skin draws taut over his face, which is higher now by a couple of inches. Instead of a dwarf, an older human sits at the table. "A bit of disguise magic seemed prudent. We saw each other earlier, but we haven't been properly introduced. I am Mal..." His eyes dart toward the ceiling in a fit of paranoia before he continues.

"Perhaps introductions should wait a bit in case they are still scrying for me. The truth is, I have no idea where Lady Greymote is currently, but she told me that you seek Azarah Tor. I can assure you that reports of my crimes have been greatly exaggerated. Some have died, but I had no other choice. You have gotten quite far for your first day in Sigil. If I had started at the Festhall things might have progressed differently. Suffice it to say there are some in this Cage that tried to prevent me from reaching my goal. Now that you have my secret, I have to ask -- Can you work with Grelljyc, or should I leave?"

[TankLaser007]

It is a fluid, almost graceful movement, it might even be beautiful if not tinged by the naked violence inherent in it. As the Dwarf's face melts away and 'it' confesses to its crimes, and to being the criminal Malbert, the young knight of the sands stands up; with one foot he kicks his chair back sending it gliding a few feet across the floor while the other kicks the table a few inches forward causing the plates and glasses to rattle, spilling amber drops of mead upon the wood's polished surface.

Dawn is in his hand and with a flick and twist he sends the scabbard on the spear's tip smacking against the wall near his now discarded chair bringing the gleaming blade to bear in the direction of the newly revealed man - Malbert.

"Surrender yourself, and disclose the whereabouts of Lady Greymote. If you so much as think any arcane words, by the burning winds of the haunted lands, we will see how the slayer of seventy men fares against the piercing Dawn of a thousand black mage hearts."

"Guard!!"

[rigsmal]

WHOLE NOTE INN


"Guard!!"

The singing stops and countless eyes across the hall turn toward your table. Among the nearby patrons, the green-skinned woman appraises the situation with curiosity, experience and amusement in her eyes, the three archetypal adventurers cut their discussion short and stand from their seats, a crisis waiting to be resolved with heroism and righteousness, and the hooded elf buries her head deep into her arms as if this would allow her to go unnoticed.

It is now silent aside from the sounds of Diaree swearing from across the room. Her two guards advance up the steps towards your table. They are used to dealing with adventurers, but not the sort who carry as wide a battery of magical items openly as many of you do, and this shows in their eyes.

Of the three adventurers the human steps forward, hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, and says, "Now, now! What seems to be the problem, and mayhap we can resolve this in a manner where no innocents will be harmed? But should evil show itself, then evil we shall slay! Speak now, who is the miscreant?"

Diaree rubs her temples and sighs.

[TankLaser007]

Faris's eyes flick to the man for a second as he attempts a quick appraisal of him.
(Sensing if he is a spellcaster and what he appears to be by his dress)

Before once again turning his full attention to Malbert. "This is Malbert, a man who stands accused of slaying more than seventy people here and who is being sought by the local authorities for his alleged crimes."

He relaxes a bit seeing the Inns guard and the newcomer as well yet tries to remain vigilant to the situation at hand.

[Archmage1]

It looks like Malbert was an ogre mage all along. I suppose Wisp has been eaten, or something. Downsides of trusting the wrong person, or possibly mind control magic. Or else a doppleganger? I think some can absorb minds?

As the "dwarf" starts shapeshifting, Eilyra jumps back away from it(And conveniently near the hooded elf), drawing her greatsword, which immediately bursts into black flames, and starts spellcasting with her other hand.

(Casting Extended Mage Armor)

After she finishes, she speaks up, her eyes firmly on Malbert.
"I suppose this answers where Wisp went. You killed her, didn't you, Malbert. That explains where you went, from the bar, quite nicely. Everyone, be wary. This creature likely has some mind controlling magic."

[dextercorvia]

That did not make things better.

No choice. They were getting suspicious. At least now they have something to be suspicious about.

"I didn't expect a warm welcome, but I hoped you'd give me the chance to explain. It would have been much simpler if you had just believed the dwarf. This..." He waves at the spearhead. "...will not do at all."

With the sound of a bass drum, he utters one word more, "Etapa," and Malbert no longer sits at the table. Instead he is standing ten feet away. He bows and utters three more notes, "Ocolire." The man is gone.


Swift -- Activate Anklets of Translocation for 10' hop straight back (or angled slightly depending on where Eilyra stands).
Standard -- Dimension door to the mouth of a nearby alley where Grell waited for the others to settle a few moments ago.


An armored figure appears in an alley off Hedge Row. He staggers deeper into the darkness.

This face won't do. Malbert is hunted. And, he will never listen to us. He's too driven. Maybe if he was younger.

I've never tried that before.

Yes, young enough to have ideals. If he hasn't met Iris yet, he can't have lost her. More stable.

He'll need a name.

I have just the thing.

A moment later, a young man in chain armor strides confidently toward Rook Street. Azarah Tor can save his world. Steele must find him.

[Archmage1]

Seeing Malbert make a jump for it, Eilyra uses her own skills to replicate the effect, darting through a portal that wasn't there a moment before.
I don't think so. Not when your spellbook could save me no end of trouble.
As the wizard starts chanting, Eilyra's blade arcs out, held firmly in both hands.


Abrupt Jaunt(Immediate action)
AoO.

[roll0] Attack
[roll1] + [roll2] fire + [roll3]*1.5 untyped(Vampire Touch)
51 damage total, Eilyra receives 25 temp hp.
DC 61 Concentration check to not lose the spell.


As her blade strikes the wizard, it flares with blackness, and afterwards, burns a dark orange, rather than black.
"Drop your bag, and your spell components, Malbert."

As the wizard disappears, Eilyra frowns.

[rigsmal]

WHOLE NOTE INN

The human adventurer wears steel full plate, has a heavy steel shield emblazoned with a golden sun strapped to his left arm, and an elegant longsword etched with the Sun's rays extending from its hilt hanging on his belt by his right. "Heavens!" he cries. "The murderer has fled and the good people of Sigil are in danger!" His companions avert their eyes, seemingly embarrassed by the human's overenthusiastic heroism, but nonetheless scan the room for further danger.

Of Diaree's guards, one, seeing 'Malbert' make a quick escape, dashes back down towards the entrance. The other hastens her pace and makes it to your table, her hooved feet clipping loudly against the wood-paneled floor.

"Fights," she says hoarsely, "go outside. Not here. Leave. Else I'll call the guards." She does not have her sap drawn, apparently intending to make good on her promise to call the guards rather than fight herself.


CLERK'S WARD

Rook Street is nestled between rows of two- to four-story houses and shops, each with a chimney or two silhouetted against the dark sky, wisps of smoke climbing and hazing the distant districts of Sigil above. Countless pinpricks of light, not from stars but from upside-down or sideways building and lamps, fill the sky. Merely looking up is vertigo-inducing (at least for a brief moment) in those new to the City of Doors, as the great curve can make one feel as if one stands on the vertical face at the top of a cliff, looking down upon the roofs a city.

People have more or less retired to homes or taverns and the streets are near-empty. This is when 'Malbert', formerly Grell, notices the few denizens still occupying the streets, tall, slender, robed humanoids, floating just off the ground, robes hanging underneath their 'feet', if they possess any at all, silently hovering through the alleys and street corners, holding bags of various heavy tools and construction materials, mending broken potholes, walls, lamps, and the like. You saw them during the day, but then they more or less blended in with the exotic crowd. Now you realize their numbers have not lessened by the coming of night, as they go about their duties, flowing through the streets of Sigil like blood through a beast. Closer inspection reveals wild, thick, mildly-colored hair and wrinkled, inexpressive, slightly-inhuman appearances. More interestingly, when any group of two or more gather, they appear to communicate not verbally but with floating runic images, appearing midair by their heads, flashing by with dazzling rapidity.

Of the few 'ordinary' citizens who remain, there are cloaked figures speaking to one another in hushed tones, teenage and young adult humanoids walking quickly through the streets holding baskets of bread, meats, and fruits, and candlelit tables set on the side of streets where rough-looking people, and curiously artisans as well, play cards or board games over mugs of ale and with lit pipes.

[Archmage1]

Having recognized the spell, Eilyra slowly reaches back, and sheathes her sword, before she returns to her seat, and resumes eating.
A pity that he escaped, since I can imagine we'd get all sorts of benefits from bringing him in, as well as the chance to remove select items of his. But I suppose fighting with a powerful mage would have been risky. Ah, well, at least I can enjoy my meal. Although...
She quietly casts prestidigitation, to re-heat her food, before she resumes eating.

[Dacia Brabant]

Jhessail's expression of smug satisfaction at nailing the dwarf's motivations quickly faded into disgust just as he himself changed his countenance to that of the wanted mage. By the end of his little tete-a-tete with the fiend and the holy roller, Jhessail's head was firmly in hand, eyes averted in embarrassment.

"Ugh, finally. Whoever that barmy cutter really was, he'd fit right in at Gatehouse," she muttered after "Malbert" ported out. She was about to admonish the two hot-heads when the guard came up and did it for her.

"Right, I'll be in my room. The hunt begins tomorrow, primes, assuming you don't stir up any other sods first," she said, standing up and nodding at the guard before heading up to her accommodation.

[dextercorvia]

Steele winds past the floating workers toward the Silver Spire Inn.

Is that still Malbert Ermengard?

Not really. I made him up.

Made him up!? You aren't supposed... How did you do...?

Relax. I made him a younger human, barely more than a youth. The jaw and the eyes just appealed to me. I gave him Omar's build, which fills out the chain nicely. The best part is that I gave him the desire to actually seek Tor. None of this hinting about like you tried with me.

What about Ermengard?

Keep an eye on him until he learns. He thinks he needs to escape. To get back to his quest.

[TankLaser007]

The human adventurer wears steel full plate, has a heavy steel shield emblazoned with a golden sun strapped to his left arm, and an elegant longsword etched with the Sun's rays extending from its hilt hanging on his belt by his right. "Heavens!" he cries. "The murderer has fled and the good people of Sigil are in danger!" His companions avert their eyes, seemingly embarrassed by the human's overenthusiastic heroism, but nonetheless scan the room for further danger.



"Fights," she says hoarsely, "go outside. Not here. Leave. Else I'll call the guards." She does not have her sap drawn, apparently intending to make good on her promise to call the guards rather than fight herself.


Faris' shoulders seem to relax. He lowers the spear, and nods to the plate clad man. And turns to the guard, "Your pardon. Regardless the guard should be informed of what has transpired. That man is wanted in connection of the deaths of more than seventy people." He picks up Dawn's sheath and returns it to its place.

"I believe I would be better suited to accompanying Cleymene than looking for this 'tout'. I think Jhessail or this one," he points at Eilyra, "are better suited to such work. Likewise we should try to see what really became of Greymote, as it seems likely she may have met with an unfortunate end or be in danger."

He begins to leave and pauses for a moment. "I will be at the large statue of the horse should anyone need me, I will return in the morn to check upon you." with that he makes his way towards the stairs.

[Gryps2]

As the situation escalates, Clymene locks her gaze onto the tabletop, her fingertips digging into the wood. She does not feel threatened by the confrontation, but the battle-lust is growing within her once more, a torrent of violent thoughts flooding her mind. She could slay Grelljyc, or Malbert, or Eilyra, any of them would do. Her gaze flickers up to look at Raila, whose presence again deters her violent outburst.

When Malbert teleports away, it is as if a great weight is lifted from her chest. She gives a ragged sigh, still feeling shaky from the day's events. This isn't going to work, she thinks, but tries to shrug the doubts away. She stands up from the table. "I'm going," she says, looking over at Faris. "We'll meet here in the morning, then, if you want to follow along."

With that, she pushes away from the table, striding out of the Inn to try and clear her head. I need an anchor, she thinks, and starts to head back towards the Festhall, hoping it hadn't yet closed.

[TankLaser007]

He nods to Cleymene as the two make their way out of the Inn, after taking a few moments to adjust to the alien environment, he quickly walks towards where he saw the giant statue of the horse hoping to find a place near the massive construct that he can rest for the night.

[Archmage1]

With the more fractious members of her small group gone, Eilyra sighs as she finishes the last of her meal.
That certainly could have gone better. I suppose I should see about booking a room for the night. Now... how to control Clymene; She seemed like she really wanted to kill something when Malbert was there, so perhaps providing her with an outlet? But I didn't have any summoning spells prepared when I was trapped, so I'd need to copy one or more over, and with needing a way to adapt to the plane of radiance... I can't afford it. Start sending her into danger? Or perhaps she'll shape up after she kills something? But I can't go too far with her, or I'll lose Raila. This would be so much easier if they thought things through, but no...
"I suppose it's time to book rooms, and rest for the evening, so we can face what tomorrow brings."

[rigsmal]

WHOLE NOTE INN


"Your pardon. Regardless the guard should be informed of what has transpired. That man is wanted in connection of the deaths of more than seventy people."

"Utterly horrid!" says the human. "That such evil can lie in heart of men... it defies belief!"

"Aye lad," says his dwarf companion solemnly, "this be a worthy task. Evil's no stranger in this land, and by the Shining One's light shall we bring this criminal to justice."

"The guards we shall seek," says the human, "and from this deadly adversary shall we save the good people of the city! My thanks, stranger. The past few days have been trying, for in this city evil and good both wear the grayest of trappings. 'Tis a breath of fresh air, that it is, to see a true villain laid before us bare."

The elf sighs in irritation and shakes her head. "I travel with nitwits. Nevertheless I thank you. Perhaps you could share with us your names? We are the Order of First Sunrise, hailing from the Free City of Greyhawk in the Flanaess. I am Inyel, these are Ewald and Oril—" she indicates the human and dwarf respectively "—both servants of Pelor, though I do not know if the Sun Father's name is known to the inhabitants of other worlds. I am one of the younger apprentices of Bigby of the Circle of Eight. I understand his name at least is known outside of the Flanaess. We would appreciate any and all you could tell us regarding the murderer who just fled."

Regardless of any of your answers, Inyel thanks each of you and the Order of First Sunrise heads up to the inn's rooms, turning in for the night. The hooded elf quickly downs her cider and leaves the inn, her steps graceful but pace hurried. The green-skinned woman grins mysteriously before returning to her scroll.

In the meantime, Jhessail and Eilyra finds their way to their rooms, both at the far end of a corridor on the third floor, insulated from the noises of revelry in the main hall. They are both comfortable two-room suites, each with one bedchamber and one solar, lavishly furnished. The suites' entrance doors have good locks. Their windows look upon a quiet street, the bright warmth of the suite's fireplaces juxtaposing with the cool and dark outside. Houses and shops are just as dark, or have only a room or two lit from behind shutters. Only cloaked figures and drunken tavern patrons are out at this hour.

Thick quilts, elegantly-carved lounges, beds, and dressers, soft feather pillows, scented oils, and hot baths—for two gold, you could be quite comfortable for a night.

I assume Eilyra booked a good room for 2 gp a day. Description changes otherwise but no mechanical benefits. The Whole Note does not offer poor rooms.


SILVER SPIRE INN

The Silver Spire has a barroom and, a floor above, a lunchroom as well, but neither are as large combined as the Whole Note's main hall. As the Silver Spire's name suggests, the main building is a four-story affair centered upon an eight-story spire built with shimmering, silver-specked stone bricks, atop which are crenelations, obviously never used. A single guard in chainmail sits inside, on a chair near the entrance, facing it but paying only half-attention. A yawning human in a doublet is the greeter. The interior is comfortably furnished with sturdy, polished wooden tables, desks, and chairs, grey cast iron lamps hanging on the walls, thick down cushions on lounges, and velvet curtains drawn over glass windows. Paintings, not antiques but pleasing to look at, hang on the walls, typically benign landscapes such as beaches, light forests, windmills on plains, and the like. Ceilings are low and a cozy, muted atmosphere greets you when you enter.

"Cutter," says the greeter.


TRIOPTIC NIC'EPONA

At night the gigantic horse statue, at least fifteen-stories tall, labeled on a nearby brass plaque (for those who can read, which is to say, not Faris) the Trioptic Nic'Epona, has shadows cast across its angular features, which are barely visible in the dark. Strong brass lamps do all they can to light its figure, but only its muscular hind legs, in its majestic, rearing form, sparkle as the statue usually does in the daylight. However, its eyes—three of them, with two in the usual places and one on the forehead—are unmistakably large, polished gems of ruby, emerald, and amber, in order.

No fewer than eight guards in medium and heavy armor circle the statue. You recognize them from the confrontation in the Festhall. At the time you paid the symbol no mind, but these guards' shields and armor are emblazoned with the symbol of a red fist surrounded by a green serpent, the same symbol you saw on those identified as sodkillers earlier in the day. They are speaking to each other in low voices.

As you approach they grow quiet. "What d'ye want, berk?" says one.


CIVIC FESTHALL

Still open but with a different greeter, the Festhall has resumed its normal daily routine without any indication that the Sodkillers were here earlier that afternoon. In the dark it is a great wall of lighted windows and lamps, and the plaza before it is mostly quiet with light chatter and rushing fountain water. You can even hear crickets, seemingly emanating from greenery behind some of the Festhall's unexplored walls.

In the main hall, the only remaining people are two guards and a dozen extravagantly-dressed nobles, some forming a small group and others wandering the halls dazed. Annali is nowhere to be seen, and you would recognize her distinctive and sharp, young but bespectacled features anywhere.

[Archmage1]

Listening to the adventuring elf, Eiyra smiles.
Perhaps if we can set these on the fleeing Malbert... they'll either accomplish nothing, but be out of the way, but they might be a distraction.
"Call me Eilyra. The spearman is called Faris, the angry woman, Clymene, the lovely Centauress Raila, and last, but certainly not least, Jhessail. Now, Malbert is a wizard, as you probably already know. We first heard of him in the Civic Festhall, where the Sodkillers came in, looking for him. They claimed that one of our companions, Wisp, had came in with him, and they wanted to talk to her. Wisp had came in with an older human."(She offers a brief description of what she'd seen). "By the time I reached the bar, to talk to her, Malbert was gone. Then we heard the Sodkillers coming, and I haven't seen Wisp since. I think Malbert might have killed her, and acquired her knowledge through means best not thinking about. You might be able to learn more from the Sodkillers, if you're interested."
With the Order of the First Sunrise leaving, Eilyra turns her attention to her next problem, the already departing hooded elf, prompting a frown, even as she wanders down to the desk to get a room.
Hm... She's quite eager to leave, which could be bad news for me, but either she is an agent of someone, or she isn't. If she is, I don't have the skills to follow her, and I'd be walking into a trap. If she isn't, then I'd still be walking into a trap. I suppose all I can really do is hope that her departure doesn't lead to anything too abrupt. If I had a bound succubus handy, this would be a wonderful time to order it to follow, but no... the easy solution isn't available.

After getting the key to her new room(And paying for the food), Eilyra starts ascending the stairs, clearly looking forwards to the luxuries she had purchased.

[TankLaser007]

TRIOPTIC NIC'EPONA
No fewer than eight guards in medium and heavy armor circle the statue. You recognize them from the confrontation in the Festhall. At the time you paid the symbol no mind, but these guards' shields and armor are emblazoned with the symbol of a red fist surrounded by a green serpent, the same symbol you saw on those identified as sodkillers earlier in the day. They are speaking to each other in low voices.

As you approach they grow quiet. "What d'ye want, berk?" says one.

Faris raises his spear to the men in salute, "Good eve to you cutters of the Sodkillers."

"I have come here only to rest a bit before moving on, yet it is fated it would seem that our paths crossed. I saw some of your number earlier today, in the Festhall there was a man with a large swords and another who seems a spellslinger they were in the company of a blue dragon."

"I have not too long ago seen this 'Malbert' they sought, he was only moments ago in the Last Note Inn, although he used his magics to flee. Should you notify your comrades you may yet be able to find him."

He moves forward a bit trying to find an unoccupied space near the statue’s base where he might rest.

His nimbus of light is active providing a golden light in like a lantern.

[tonberryking]

Raila wonders if everything in this place is going to lead to violent interruptions, the centaur berating herself inwardly for not acting faster. At least, she surprises herself with the thought: Clymene is so far making good on her intentions, the centaur giving the maenad a curt, but not impolite nod towards her.

"I really have to wonder why this Malbert fellow shows interest in us, or worse, the Wizard." She says to anyone who'd listen, probably Eilrya, before seeking rooms of her own. The idea to splurge on luxuries is foriegn to her (let alone her paltry money resources) so anything basic will do.

Come the morning she waits for Eilrya, though she does take the time again to check with any of the inn's staff about a potential tauric district.


Let's try it again:
Gather Information- [roll0]