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Hello all.
Being motivated by some of very wonderful posters in this section, I have convinced myself to try my hand at a journal style narrative. I have chosen to recreate the amazing adventures of a wizard, one Justin Case, who was a latecomer into the PbP thread Chronicles of the Silver Rose Company by Dungeon Monkey.
To start this off, I have tried my best to write Justin's 'origin story', which unfortunately is not nearly as exciting as the Silver Rose Chronicles. But I needed to get my head in the game before I tackled the good stuff. :)
I confess freely that this character is primarily based on, borrowed from, and delightfully stolen from my current favorite wizard, Dresden. This is my homage to that character.
The Origin ran a little longer than it did in my head (20 pages) and I'm still editing the end bit. SO here is part one of:
Justin's Story- OR- A Wizard in the Lady of Pain's Court- Chapter 1 The Beginning (Part 1)
or
An Interplanar Wizard in The Lady of Pain's Court
Chapter 1 – The Beginning
My name is Justin. Justin Case. And I am a Wizard. (Yes, with a Capital 'W') I'm NOT one of those old fuddy-duddies in old mothball-smelling robes and wide-@$$ pointy hats that make them look like a witch with a beard either. (At least not yet.) I am an Inter-Planar Traveling, Arcane-Energy Wielding, Reality-Bending Engine of Destruction and Creation. Not necessarily in that order.
So, I've decided, after much urging, to go ahead and do this 'Journal' thing. As means to keep a record of my (our) adventures. While I'm still young enough to remember them.
(Or before I fail to continue growing older. Professional Wizard. Occupational hazard.)
This journal will serve as a record, and hopefully provide insight (to myself) of where I am, and how I came to be here. (In the mental and meta-physical sense I mean. I KNOW how I got 'here'. Through a portal.)
Shards and spells. I knew I wasn't any good at this.
<Blot of ink on page where pen was apparently slammed between the pages. There is a brief note in a decidedly feminine handwriting.>
<That's because your starting at the end. Try again.>
So where should I start? Oh. Right. At the Beginning. OK then. Here we go.
My name is Justin. I was born to the Case family in the City of Sumdall in the land of Izmer. Depending upon which Plane of Reality you originate from you may not recognize it. Certainly no one ELSE I have asked in this stinking city has heard of it. (Or won't tell me if they have. NOTHING is free here.) Turns out the Multiverse is larger than anyone could ever have imagined. Who Knew? Right, the beginning.
So the Case Family is a well-to-do family in this part of my world. Politically powerful enough and wealthy enough to make friends, and enemies, but not big enough to be the target of every other rich, politically powerful family in the region. I was the second son. When I got old enough to appreciate it, I decided that this was perfect for me. I was not constantly hounded and brow-beaten at every turn to be turned into the next Head of the Family like my brother James was. I was expected to excel at whatever I did of course, and to eventually marry into another similar family and gain us even more power, prestige, and money. But until then I was pretty much free to do as I pleased, And I did.
Now don't get me wrong. I wasn't a complete @rsehole. I was raised to know the difference between good and bad, right and wrong. Yadda Yadda, But if I'm being honest,
<Note in margin: You had better be!>
, then I must confess that I was also a bit spoiled. Annnd a little bit selfish. Add to that mix I am taller than average, and ruggedly good looking, (If I say so myself) and so I attracted occasional female trouble. (Meaning when it wouldn't find me, I went and found it.) Add to THAT the fact that I am also smarter than the average person. Meaning my tutors couldn't give me enough school-work to keep me out of trouble. (And they tried.) But it turned out I LIKE learning new things. Go figure. SO when I did all of the work they assigned I went and discovered new things to learn. Sometimes it was 'How does the antique water clock work?' Or 'If Father Winter can fit down the grand chimney, why can't I?' And of course, 'How many eggs can my friends and I throw at Old McCranky's Mansion before we have to run from the patrols?' Of course as we got older that led to 'How long can we hold a drunken duel in the middle of the street before we have to run from the patrols?' And my favorite for a long time, 'How many girlfriends CAN I have at once before the others find out?'
<And the answer is?>
<Whose writing this anyway?>
<Carry on.>
SHORT version, I constantly found that I was smart enough to find a way into almost any sort of exciting situation that a youngster could imagine. And that made me popular. Unfortunately, I did not always take the time and effort to figure a way OUT of said situations. Leading to even more exciting situations. Which also made me popular. Just not in a way that my parents approved of.
So I found myself, at the age of 18, in a family meeting. The subject of the meeting? Me. More precisely, what was I going to do with my life? That was going to benefit the family the most? (And embarrass them the least?) It was 'decided' (I got a vote, but not really.) that I would enroll in the Academica Ars Magica. (That's 'Wizard University' in plain Common for you.) I would continue my education under the watchful eyes of the Academica's Instructors, and hopefully learn some self control and maturity. And having a wizard in the family was never considered a bad thing. (Izmer is a Mageocracy.) My parents figured that learning magic would at least keep my 'big brain' occupied. They were at least partially correct on that point, I'll give them that.
So I was given a farewell party, (The Academica was in another city, not just down the road.) Where I received the usual; food, alcohol, a large elaborately decorated cake, nice presents from those that actually cared for my well-being, gag gifts from my youthful friends, and well-wishes from both sides. It was a beautiful and very elaborate 'We love you, but you need to go and get your act together' speech all wrapped up in a ribbon and a bow. And everyone there knew it.
The one shining moment of my party, (Besides the part where I tried to tap dance on the table drunk and nearly stepped in the cake. That was great.) was when my mother gave me her gift. She gave it to me in a brief private moment instead of with everyone else. I just stared at the box for a minute, then at mother. Probably with a really stupid look on my face that at the time I thought made me look 'somber' and 'brooding'. But more likely made me look constipated.
“Open it.” She said gently. With that look on her face that every child knows. The 'Your going to do what I want you do eventually anyway. Why not save yourself a lot of time and trouble and just do it now?' look. So I relented. But I took long enough to make sure she knew that it was MY choice to open it. She just stood there and smiled patiently, waiting for me.
Inside the box was a large pendant on a long, exquisite silver chain. The pendant was silver as well, bearing the family motto on one side. “Strength is Family” written in Draconic. (Because apparently ALL families think they have a dragon ancestor somewhere in the family line?!?) When I turned it over I saw it was my mothers favorite brooch.
A flood of youthful memories all returned at once, vying for dominance. My mother had been the one constant in all of my youth. My Father was great, when he was there. But his business took him away so often and so long that he was more of a visiting dignitary in my house than 'Dad'. As he wasn't home much, he had tried every type of parenting technique known to man when he was. And maybe invented a few of his own. But my mother was always there. It was she, not the hired help, who patched up my childhood scrapes, taught me right from wrong, and read me stories to get me to settle down at night. And she almost always wore this brooch. It was a family heirloom, passed down from mother to daughter for several generations. As I was told the story, it had been a part of a dragon's hoard plundered by a group of adventurers. When the brooch turned out to be non-magical one of the adventurers had taken it and given it to his wife, (apparently raiding a dragon's hoard means you can retire.) Which led to the aforementioned passing it down the family tree.
The face of the brooch, now pendant, was unmistakable. It bore a stylized dragon flying over a castle, all surrounded by a magical circle. The carving had worn over time, but still was unmistakable in its craftsmanship. It had even been adopted as the Unofficially official family crest. Except that our family crest had the dragon in a curving “C” shape. (For 'Case' of course.) While the brooch had the dragon in a serpentine “S” shape. I had always loved that picture. Something about it had always fired my imagination, inspired me. I don't know why. But Mother never had any trouble getting me to behave when I was younger, all she had to do was promise to let me hold the brooch, and I was the perfect child. For a little while anyway. And she had just given it to me.
Part of me briefly wondered if I should be insulted. After all, it was traditionally handed down from mother to daughter. But that brief bout of stupidity was quickly drowned by another flood of memories.
I shook my head slightly, blinking rapidly. Not from tears of course. I looked at my mother and my mouth opened, but no sound came out. I finally managed to croak, “Mother, I ,...”
“I know.” She smiled gently. “Well, don't just stand there. Put it on!” She insisted. With the look.
I relented much more graciously this time, and hung the pendant on my neck.
“Mother, I,...” I repeated. Man was I glad this was a private moment. My reputation for witty repartee would have taken a serious beating otherwise.
“I know Justin. I love you too.” My mother replied, lightly touching the pendant where it hung on my chest.
“Making me proud has never been your problem. Just be good. Be yourself. And I'll be the proudest mother in the world. Just,... do your best to stay out of trouble. And always try to help those that are.” She said softly. Then she straightened up to her full height, (quite a few inches less than mine.) And became the Lady of the House once more. “Now. Get back to the party. You have guests to attend to!” she commanded.
I bowed to my mother with all of the respect that I usually refused to pay anyone.
“As you wish.” I replied with a smirk, quoting my favorite story she used to tell me.
The rest of the party, and the trip to the Academica. remains a drunken blur to this day. Considering my attention span then, and how BORE-ing long carriage rides usually are, That's likely a good thing.
Academica Ars Magica
Said the huge iron sign over the main gates. And several other smaller ones across the extensive campus. As if we were in danger of forgetting where we were at some point during the day.
Despite my original misgivings, and University life in general pretty much anywhere you go, It wasn't really that bad. Turns out that I wasn't the only child from a well-to-do family to be sent to the Academica Ars Magica to learn something besides magic. The school had representatives from all walks of life. From actual royalty, to those who thought they were, or at least acted like it. From well-off families like mine, to those so poor they worked several odd jobs to pay the tuition. You could always identify those students. The always looked tired. Not just during exams. We even had a couple of University janitors who worked day and night, just hoping to be able to learn something hiding in the back of the room while the professor taught the class. All races were represented as well. Humans were the dominant species on campus, but the school practiced the belief that the path of learning was open to all. If they could afford it. So there were many students there that are considered fairy tales in some lands. Elves, Halflings, Gnomes, Dwarves, catfolk, bird-people, and some I still don't know what.
I'm unsure what to write here. I mean, I don't know what parts are more important. Looking back now, I was just so,... If I knew then what I know now,...
Right. Don't skip ahead.
So the first thing I did was discover a group of like-minded students who shared my passion for life, and appreciated my rapier wit. These were my new friends. I was young, good-looking, reasonably well-off from a well respected family, and I had a promising career ahead of me. And as my popularity grew, so did my circle of friends. Those who dared to rival my charm, wit and school scores for some reason were never accepted into my circle. There were rumblings of course, some name calling and such. A few of the more snooty ones dared to publicly accuse me of insulting them and/or their families intentionally.
Absolute rubbish of course. I simply didn't see the need for the competition.
As it turns out, this really WAS one of (if not the single) best school for magical learning in any of the known kingdoms. So while I excelled, naturally, I'm going to swallow my pride and admit that I had to work at it. Going to a school for would-be wizards meant that it was also a school of would-be geniuses. This was great, as it meant that I could finally have conversations with humanoids on my level. Except for the whole no-competition thing I mentioned above. Turns out I had a teensy problem with ego. Who knew?
The professors of the Academica were like you would expect at any institution for learning how to bend the rules of the universe to your whims. Some were great, some were less than great, some were funny, hard, easy, boring, etc etc. And then there were two.
Caldric Greystorm was head of the schools Universalist department, and hands down the schools best instructor on magical strategy. He was old, grey-bearded, gruff-as-a-goat and twice as onry. He didn't make friends, he made wizards. Those who took his classes, and paid attention, might actually survive. (His words, not mine.) He taught that the best spell was the one you never had to cast, because you had done your homework first. He also taught us that the wizard who died with so much as a single cantrip uncast was a Moron. Capitol 'M'. Because he obviously hadn't done his homework.
Yeah, the old goat gave me a headache too. I loved this man.
Caldric taught me that magic is the life blood of the universe. That like everything else there is always a right and a wrong way to use it. And that just because I COULD do something with magic didn't mean that I SHOULD. Caldric also hinted that the universe was far larger than I suspected, and tried to get me to investigate everything that I saw. 'Not a problem' I thought. If I had only understood what he was hinting at. Hindsight is perfect.
But by far my favorite teacher was Althor Shadowlocke. A Sorcerer and head of the schools Conjuration department. I'm pretty sure he was the schools youngest teacher. Ever. He wasn't even 30 yet, (In a field where most of the instructors weren't considered experienced enough to teach until they were pushing 50 at least.) but he was magically powerful, and charismatic, and politically connected, and an excellent lecturer, (never boring!) and his classes were always interesting, and he took a liking to me from the first day of school. Did I mention that he was my favorite teacher?
Althor taught spell strategies too. Like flexibility with a limited spell selection. And creative uses for spells. Both Sorcerer specialties. He said, “Spell choices and planning ahead are all well and good when one has the luxury of an entire tome to choose from every day. But if your choices are limited, then creativity becomes the winner of the battle, not who prepared Fireball instead of a Lightning Strike.” When I mentioned this in one of Caldric's classes, he laughed, (Not kindly) and said, “If your only tool is a hammer, then every obstacle begins to look like a nail.”
For four years, I was having a great time. I had a girlfriend, (ok, girlfriends, but not all at the same time!) I had my circle of friends, I was excelling in my studies, my parents were proud of me. I was on my way to a great future! I had teachers that I liked, and more importantly liked me. While I appreciated both Caldric and Althor, Caldric wasn't really the kind of guy who encouraged students to come over and visit. Althor was. To his favorites.
Althor collected a small group of new students each year that he thought had 'true potential'. To those of us who made that cut, he became our mentor. (All of the professors were required to mentor a certain number of students, but somehow Althor got to be particularly selective. No I didn't think this odd at the time. I thought it was awesome.) He had both political aspirations, and the power and contacts to help him reach those goals. I confess that in me he found a most willing protege'. Soon I had dreams of wielding the power of politics in one hand, and the power of Magic in the other, all while living the good life easily provided to me by both. I'm pretty sure it was all my idea. At first.
Hindsight is perfect. Looking back there were so many clues that I should have seen, so many hints that I should have picked up on. But working myself so hard that I overslept, while not common, wasn't unusual. And I had several weekends that I can't remember due to perfectly normal drinking and debaucherous activities. Losing an extra here and there didn't alarm me. And the occasional nightmare? I was learning to bend the fabric of reality to my personal whims. And just glimpses of other 'common' planes would give a normal person nightmares, so the stuff I was studying it was no surprise that I had the occasional bad dream. Right? I studied, partied, spent time with friends, and girlfriends, made politically savvy friendships and alliances, played pranks on other students, got pranked in return, spent time learning new and powerful Conjuration rituals 'off the books' because they weren't on the schools approved list, and generally had a great time. Until it came to an end.
Okay. I admit that really don't remember much of what happened next. I have managed to find out some information, and I have pieced fragments together until I think I have the basics correct, if not all of the details. Yet. I'll lay it out as I believe it all came to pass.
There's an old saying. 'Power and Politics don't mix'. Turns out that they DO mix. Just not very well. And Althor was no exception. Turns out that he had dreams of power that surpassed anything I could have imagined or suspected. And he was such a swell guy. The sneaky sunuvab!#%$ had tempted, teased, cajoled, charmed, CHARMED, Geased and I don't know what else not merely myself, but his entire stable of hand-picked acolytes into participating in a ritual designed to open a Gate that was never meant to be opened. And not just us. ALL of his previous mentorees were out there too, charming, teaching and otherwise cajoling new and unsuspecting apprentices, students and whoevers into feeding energy into this ritual.
The ritual was a power-gathering conjuration circle. Once every peculiar cycle, I don't know based on what, it didn't match any Lunar, solar or planetary cycle I am aware of, all of the 'inductees' would open a portal and siphon through magical energies. All of the 'outlying' portals were feeding energy into a 'central' portal. Ours. Whether our portal was THE central portal, or just a nexus for a series of feeding branches feeding yet another portal down the line I don't know. Judging by how surprised Althor was at what happened next, I'm guessing he was the big fish in a small pond, and not the head bad guy himself.
What was the purpose? Well you know those things that everyone fears? That everyone has nightmares about? The irrational fear of the monster under the bed? Something in the closet? The tales of creepy tentacle-faced monstrosities that every culture seems to have, no matter how separated they are by culture or geography? Yeah, those. Turns out those were real. Are real. They come from dimensions outside of our usual Planes of reality that everyone (with a wizardly education at least) knows about. I'll just call them 'Outsiders'. Seems that long ago they actually walked our world. All our worlds. Until some do-gooders, either powers, or gods, or heroes, or combination of folk decided that the universe was better off without them and told them to take a hike. And the universe was doing just fine without them until some genius beings, * cough * like Althor * cough * thought it might be fun to invite them BACK to play some more. Yeah, because bringing back beings so terrible that the mere thought of them still drives men to madness eons after they've been gone is SUCH a good idea! So the portal ritual was supposed to help make this terrible idea a reality. Whether the energy being gathered and funneled forward was to wake one of these beings up, or get it's attention like a moth to a flame, or actually provide a stable inter-dimensional passageway for it I'm still not sure. But it was a lot of power. By my estimation we were the central channel point for at least 13 other groups about our size (About 13 give or take) all funneling power into our circle. Yeah, a LOT of power. Whether this would have been just another night of lost sleep, or the beginning of the end of the world, we may never know. Because that's when Caldric came in.
It turns out that Caldric wasn't just some crotchety old goat teaching basic magic principles long after most wizards had expired from one too many magical experiments. He was THE crotchety old goat, the wizard that magic-users who used magic for nefarious purposes feared. Best I can tell he was an agent of a higher authority, or a higher Power, who had suspected Althor's diabolical intentions for a while. Why and how he chose tonight to discover what Althor was up to I do not know. But I'm glad he did.
Caldric and a couple of other professors entered the spell-sealed chamber with no apparent harm from the guardians and spells outside. Caldric calmly ordered Althor to stop what he was doing. Althor declined, in a more fanatical and spittle-throwing manner. Caldric waved his hand and snapped the enchantments and charms around us students with no more effort than opening a door.
(Ok Ok, I don't really know EXACTLY how he did it, but that's the way I imagine it. And I DO know this is the part where I woke back up.)
This is where I come back in. Sort of. I regained consciousness lying on a stone floor of a subterranean chamber with the Mother of Monsters of all Headaches. The first thing I did was retch up whatever was in my stomach. I thought it was from the pain. I figured that I had been to another wild party that I would brag about not remembering. Except that my head never hurt like this after a bender, and from the noise the party was still going on.
“Hey guys, keep it down willya? Wizard trying to die over here.” I managed to croak through a painfully sore throat. Then I looked to see what was making all the racket.
“Whoahatthe,...???” I believe was my semi-coherent response to the view.
What I saw was Caldric and Althor exchanging spell-fire and other arcane energies at each other, with a giant Gate of darkly swirling energies to who-knows-where as a a backdrop. Caldric was calmly and gruffly rebuking Althor's attacks. The elder wizard deflected, absorbed, and blocked blasts of fire, lightning, ice and acid. Once he stopped a direct lightning bolt by what appeared to be his hand and sheer force of will. His counter-attacks were swift and precise, taking advantage of openings left by Althors repetitive spellcasting.
By contrast Althor was screaming epithets as well as spells, his defenses were minimal, all of his focus being on hammering out as much arcane blasts as fast as he could. His basic defenses were slowly but surely being chipped away by Caldric's precise strikes. All things being equal, even my headache fogged brain could tell where this was leading. Unfortunately they weren't the only factors.
The two teachers that had accompanied Caldric into the chamber were engaged in spell-battles of their own with a couple of my fellow students who had not been freed from Althor's mental influences. Or they were willing accomplices. Either way thinking about it now makes my head ache all over again. I tried to call out to my fellow students to stop, but all that came out was a dull croak, easily lost amid the thunderous exchange of spell-blasts.
Then the battle shifted. One of the teachers was wounded by a blast from a student, (A spell the first-year should NOT have known), and Caldric reacted by extending one arm towards the teacher, partially shielding him from the follow up attack. This brief break in Caldric's otherwise perfect defenses caused him to miss the summoning circle that Althor opened behind him. When the hell-fiend came roaring out of the summoning circle it plowed into Caldric with both spiky, ham sized fists, sending the aged wizard flying from the raised entryway and across the chamber. He rolled to a stop almost directly before the swirling gate of purple and black energies. As the hell-spawn turned its attention to the wounded teacher, Althor stepped towards Caldric, who was twitching and trying to rise.
“I'll teach you to meddle in my affairs!” Althor hissed like a villain from a B-grade melodrama. “I've been waiting a long time for this. There won't be enough left of you to identify, much less Raise!” And my favorite teacher raised his arms, strange energies coalescing around his hands, ready to destroy my other favorite teacher in cold blood.
“NO!” I screamed, rising painfully to my knees. Without thinking I used the first spell that came to mind, a lightning strike. I tapped a pin on my robes (a prize from an earlier year) which turned to dust and caused the spell to cast nearly instantaneously. The electrical blast filled the space between myself and Althor. Caught by surprise the blast stunned him. Still covered in tiny electrical discharges he turned towards me. When he saw it was me his eyes widened in surprise.
“Why?” He hissed. “We were going to do great things together?” He seemed truly hurt at this betrayal. Then I saw his fingers were twitching. They were moving in tiny but unmistakable gestures of a spell. I finished mine first. The resulting force-blast must have been enhanced by the proximity of the otherwordly energies from the Gate. Because the resulting blast was much, MUCH more powerful than it should have been, blowing Althor up into the air and sailing in a perfect arc. Right through the Gate. This was apparently the last straw for the abused portal. With energy from outside still being fed into it, and no one to control it, it went full chaotic beserk. Flares of blue, purple, red and black energies flew out of the swirling mass and blasted across the room. The underground chamber began to feel as if it was the epicenter of an earthquake spell.
Knocked flat by the shaking, and still in too much pain to try and stand anyway, I began crawling toward Caldric across the floor as it bucked and heaved beneath me. I couldn't see the other students and teachers, and truth to tell, at that point I didn't much care. All I knew was the two men I respected most in the world had just tried to kill each other, and I had stopped one of them from doing so. And likely killed him. And I didn't know which hurt worse. Maybe more about that later. Maybe.
The noise grew so loud I couldn't hear anything anymore, it grew so bright it was dim and hard to see. I crawled towards Caldric, screaming his name with a voice that couldn't be heard. In a flash of visibility, I saw Caldric's head turned towards me. His face was battered and covered in blood. But his eyes were open and focused. He was looking at me.
“Run boy, Run.” He whispered in a voice that I heard directly in my mind.
“Not without you!” I screamed back silently. He smiled wanly, his head shaking slightly. I couldn't tell if he was telling me no, or if the ground was moving that much. His arm flopped towards me, and I crawled closer. I stretched out and grasped his fingertips.
“Foolish boy.” I heard again in my head, his lips moving only slightly. “Remember what I taught you, and you may live. Good journeys.” And he,... smiled. I swear by whatever power you want me to, in the middle of all that, both the chamber and the Gate collapsing all around us, he SMILED.
Then the Gate exploded. But it wasn't a normal explosion like a fireball. There was light too dark to see, darkness so bright it hurt my eyes, fire that froze, a jumbled kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and smells. I flailed as I felt myself falling. Up. Caldric's hand was torn from my feeble grasp and I watched as he flew away from me, or I was thrown away from him, or both. I watched him fly into the rainbow whirlpool of the fractured Gate, and I silently screamed once more as I fell into the welcoming blackness of unconsciousness.
And for the second time in a row, I found myself waking up in a strange place.
Nice work Ragadolf, I look forward to reading the next part.
Moth! Nice to see you bug-man!
Glad you enjoyed it. posting part 2 soon.
Here it is folks, Part the Second. Where our wizard finds himself in a new pickle. :)
There is a bit more info crammed into a couple of paragraphs than I am normally comfortable with, but this is a journal, not a novel. (As I was kindly reminded.) :) And the background is important for characters that make an appearance in the Chronicles as well.
Chapter 1- (Part 2)
And for the second time in a row, I found myself waking up in a strange place.
“Oi! Wake up yeh bum! No loiterin'. An' certainly no sleepin it off iner' street! Iz not even After peak yet fer cryin'.” Came an angelic voice as hard as steel and a rolling brogue for backup.
Unfortunately, that voice was the only thing angelic about me at the moment. My head hurt like h#!!, and my body hurt like someplace in the same neighborhood. I tried to open my eyes, and discovered that even my eyelids hurt. I tried to move instead, and everything hurt even more. I tried to say “OW!” but all that came out was a sort of growling, groaning “Garrrrraargh!”
“Oh leave 'im CW.” Another, deeper, voice suggested. “Leave 'im to the Cully Bashers. That'll teach him not to get so drunk next time!” I had no idea what a 'Cully Basher' was, but the way he said it made it sound unpleasant. I decided I did not like this voice. I dubbed him 'Sir @rsehole' in my mind.
I was then prodded by something hard and pointy in my ribs. It felt like the steel toe of a metal boot. This set off another round of 'Everything hurts even MORE'. I cried “OW!, That hurts!” Or at least I tried to. I think what came out was “ GAR! Aturts!”
“Aw fer the luv uv, Jes' LEAVE 'im CW! The bashers, the barmies or the Dustmen. Either way 'es not our problem.” Came the indignant voice of 'Sir @rsehole' once more.
I heard the clink of metal, and I caught a whiff of,... strawberries? And I heard the angel speak again. “Wakey Wakey Cutter. It's time to open yer eyes.” Something warm and soft touched my cheek, and I felt,... better. Not ready to run a marathon or anything, but I also didn't feel like a dragon's digested meal either. A partially chewed one perhaps. So I opened my eyes, ready for yet more pain, ready for anything I thought, except this.
Inches from my face was another face. This face was round and cherubic, complete with a little button nose and surrounded by a halo of reddish-blond tightly curled hair. The face was female. And, dare I say it? Cute. And she must have been bending over very far to get that close to me while I was on the ground. Why was I on the ground?
“Ah. Welcome back to the land of the livin' Cutter.” She said, not unkindly, although her voice still rang with the steel of authority. “You need to get up. No sense in lyin' there like a bally coney. Give me yer arm.” The steely tone in her voice brooked no argument, and I responded by lifting my arm in unconscious obedience. She reached out and took it, and I discovered that her voice wasn't the only thing made of steel. She must work out. Because the grip on my arm was strong enough that my first instinct was to tell her I was going to need the arm back when she was done. She stepped back and heaved without apparent effort, pulling me to my feet.
Or, well, she WOULD have pulled me to my feet. Easily. Had she been tall enough to do so. But there's only so much leverage you can obtain when your shorter than the other guy. I am over 6 feet tall. So the woman pulled me up into a sitting position. And I found myself looking at her eye-to-eye.
She was a halfling. As I was currently sitting on the ground and looking her in the eye, that made her a trifle shorter than the average halfling. But otherwise she was a perfectly-proportioned attractive specimen of halfling womanhood. This much was easily identifiable by a casual inspection, even though she was dressed head-to-toe in a red-enameled scale armor of unusual design. (So I was RIGHT about the steel toes!) The petite steel spikes on the pauldrons framed her attractive face. Her strawberry blond hair was damp from wearing her helmet, which she had tucked under her arm. She stood ramrod straight, hands on her hips, regarding me with an even stare. And gods help me, she was cute!
“Alright Cutter, so what's yer story?” She asked in a voice that was used to being obeyed.
“And why shouldn't we be putting you in the cage for public drunk?” Added the grumbling voice of sir @rsehole as another figure stepped up behind the halfling woman. This one was more typical human(oid) sized and dressed in the same strange red-enameled, spiky armor that the woman wore. With his hands also on his hips, he looked like her twin brother. Her much larger, grumpier brother. Sir @rsehole now had a face. Although he was still wearing his helmet.
The woman's eyes flicked briefly to Sir @rsehole in annoyance, then back to me. My brain was finally starting to function, and I realized that the matching armor meant they were probably in the Guard. Hence the voice-of-authority that the woman used so well.
“Oh fer powers sake CW! Either take him in for public drunk, or leave him be! Our job is not to rescue every sad-sack berk in the district!” He growled over her shoulder. She ignored him completely this time. Not even the glimpse of annoyance. Take that Mr Hole.
“Identify yerself Cutter. Who are yeh, and why are you lyin' in the middle of the street?” The halfling woman, 'CW' apparently, asked me again. She leaned a little closer and sniffed. “Yer not drunk. What happened to yeh?” She asked me again, her steely voice tinged with actual concern.
I just stared at her blankly. I blinked. I didn't know why I was in the middle of the street. I didn't recognize the location. It wasn't anywhere on the Academica campus, of that I was certain. And it wasn't any part of the city of Sumdall that I recognized either. “Where am I? How did I get here?” I managed to croak out hoarsely. Mr Hole threw his hands in the air at that. But as if in response to my own question, I began to see it. It was like watching my life running backwards very quickly. I watched myself flying, the Gate swirling, except it was swallowing itself instead of exploding, I saw Caldric flying backwards through the air, landing on the stone platform in front of a fiend who retreated backwards through a summoning circle,... and it all came back to me. I screamed.
“Althor? Caldric! Where are they?!?” I looked around wildly.
“Now how in the Cage would I know where your Bub-buddies are?” Mr Hole growled. He was clearly tired of dealing with me. Or he had somewhere more important to be. I didn't care. I continued to look around frantically, screaming (More of a hoarse whisper honestly) “Where are they? Where's Caldric?! Where's Caldric?!!”
CW reached forward and put a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder. That simple gesture calmed me more than any command or threat could have done. “He's not drunk you bally sod.” She said without taking her eyes from mine. “Look at him. He's Cagestruck. He's got all the signs of a portal-popper. He's fresh from the Prime or I'll eat my helmet. Must have been just moments ago. Clueless don't last long lyin' in the street with all the coney-catchers hereabouts.”
CW tilted her head sideways, her button nose twitching. “Must have been a real bad trip. Most portals don't rattle a blood's brain-box so much.”
“Fine, Fine! So he's a Clueless fresh from the Prime! So what? They're a dozen a glass diamond! You've checked him. He's fine. Your job is done. And our shift is done! Let's go!” Mr Hole said, gesturing broadly to indicate the street behind him.
CW looked at me with a curious expression on her adorable face. Then she LOOKED at me, as if she could see right into my soul. She slowly shook her head, then made a general waving gesture over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off me.
“No. You go on ahead Rich. Sign me out as well. I'm gonna lann this cutter the Chant before he winds up with the Dustmen.”
Mr Hole, (Sorry. 'Rich' apparently), looked like he wanted to say something. But after a moment he just shrugged, waved halfheartedly with a muttered, “Whatever CW. Seeya.” and stomped away muttering about bleeding hearts. CW stood there looking at me until the clanking footfalls of Rich faded into the background with the rest of the bustle.
“Right then. Let's get you clued in.” CW said. She looked like she might be having second thoughts. But she reached out and offered her hand again, and I wordlessly reached back out and took it. She pulled as I struggled, assisting me to my feet. I stood there for a moment, fearing the return of the blinding pain, but nothing happened. Soon I would be wishing a headache was the worst of my worries.
“Right. This way cutter.” The warrior woman said firmly. She turned and walked off opposite of the direction that Rich had taken.
“What about,...?” I asked, pointing a thumb over my shoulder in the general direction her partner had gone.
“What? Oh. Don't worry about Dick. He's not a bad cutter. Just a little,... Hardheaded.” At the last word, her face looked like she had swallowed something vile.
Normally I would have exhilarated in the fact that her partner’s nick name (Short for Richard I know now.) Was the same as what I would have called him anyway. Because that’s how he acted. I settled for smirking. It’s the little things in life that give us joy.
She started walking, and I followed. The air was dank and foggy, and my head was still spinning. So I focused on her as we walked. Slowly, compared to how much distance I usually covered with each stride. Given how my head felt, that was fine with me.
“Where to start,... What do you remember? You seemed pretty upset when you started waking up.” She asked me, taking two strides to my one, slow step.
I frowned. I was still fuzzy, I wasn't sure I should be talking to this,... city guard? But she seemed willing to help, and I needed to collect my thoughts. And talking aloud helps me think, so,...
“A little. I recall,…” I replied cautiously. I carefully did not lie to this woman, whom I did not know, and therefore had no idea what kind of skills or powers she may possess. But I withheld a lot of details. “There was a battle. In front of a Gate. It exploded. Or imploded. And the next thing I know,...” I gestured to her. “,...You were kindly asking me to wake up.”
Instead of the skeptical look I was expecting, the tiny guard nodded sagely, as if this explained everything. “You stepped through a Portal cutter. Unwillingly it sounds like. And if it was a magic battle, no offense cutter, but you don't look like a warrior, so I'm guessin' yer a spell-slinger? You must've warped the portal in a manner it didn't appreciate, and it dropped you off here.”
“Where is here?”
She looked at me sideways with a peculiar look. “Take a look around Cutter. What do you see?”
Her words took me aback, Considering that usually I am one of the more observant people I know. But I was spent, sore, tired, and still had a buzzing in my ears. So I did what she said. I closed my eyes and concentrated for a moment. Then I opened my eyes again.
The first thing I noticed was that it was hard to breathe. I had thought that was a result of the battle. (Which I did only vaguely recall at this point.) But it was the air. It was dank and thick. And smoky. I coughed when I realized it and couldn't stop for a minute. Then I noticed the buildings. The first impression was of the sheer size and scope of some of them. There were some perfectly normal sized structures next to some impossibly tall buildings. Some seemed to be built on top of others, leaning over the street as if the buildings were trees competing for the sun. And the architecture,... the design was mostly Big and Creepy, with an occasional nod to Downright Spooky. The buildings were almost all stone and iron as far as I could tell. But not all the same stone, or metal. There were buildings that looked to be made of granite, basalt, iron, and a dozen other shades of stone I couldn't identify yet. And they almost all had stone and iron spikes on and around them. And gargoyles. Lots of gargoyles, from statues atop the buildings to demonic faces above doorposts, and adorning pillars and drainspouts. It was as if an ironmonger and a sculptor both had a going out of business sale.
Then I realized that it was crowded. As in the place was filled with people. It just FELT crowded. I hadn't realized how crowded, as the steady stream of passer-bys were giving us a respectable distance as opposed to the rest of the crowd. I guessed it must have been the presence of my armored guide. Then I realized what the crowd was made of, and I almost fell down again.
It might be better to say, what WASN'T the crowd made of?!? I saw humans, elves, dwarfs, gnomes and halflings. Then I also saw kobolds, bugbears, and orcs. I saw a centaur-like creature with rams horns atop his head, a couple of strange humanoids with glowing symbols floating around their heads, what looked like Angel-kin, and devils. Yes, there were a couple of devils laughing. And what looked like angels arguing. Being taller than the average humanoid, I was able to look down the boulevard we were traversing over or at least past most of the crowd's heads. I could see that the entire crowd was all made up of the most diverse collection of cognizant creatures in the Planes. And I realized that the crowd went on. As did the street. I could see the tops of buildings farther down, which should have been impossible. I peered through the hazy air, and realized that in the distance, I could see the land rising, and the city before me curving upwards,...
At that point I started to fall again, and likely would have had it not been for the strong support of my tiny armored guide. “Oi! No yeh don't cutter! Once a day is my limit. You may be skinny but yer' no lightweight!”
I looked at CW with what must have been a look of helplessness, if not terror.
“What,... How,... Where?” I stammered.
(Captain Clever. That's me. Always cool under pressure.)
“You’re in Sigil now, the City of Doors. Center of the Universe if you kin believe that sort of thing. There’s a portal here to every flamin’ place on the Wheel, if you can find it, an’ discover how to open it. Looks like the one you just came through don’t open from this side. Well, that’s why they call it the Cage. Chin up, cutter, it ain’t all that bad here in Sigil.” CW replied.
“Now, polite cutters will call you a prime or an Outsider, but to everyone else, you’re Clueless. Keep your head up, and yer eyes open. Till you get your bearings yer ripe fer plucking. I'll lann ya the chant on the layout of Sigil. Then yer on yer own.” She said gruffly.
“Why?”
She looked at me again. “Why am I helping you? You mean what do I get out of it? Fair question. Let’s say I'm a pretty good judge of character. I choose to believe that if I help you now, later you might be in a position to return the favor. Deal?”
I stared at her blankly. Then managed to slowly nod my head.
“Good. I knew you weren't completely clueless!' She smiled at me with dimples that should be outlawed. “Lets get us some bub. This is gonna take longer than I thought. Do you have any Jink?”
“Um, what?”
“Jink? You know,... Greens? Stingers? Ladies? Hammers? JINK?” she said, raising her fingers and rubbing them together.
At the second 'Jink' several nearby faces in the crowd turned towards us like a wolf scenting a wounded animal.
“OI!” CW snapped. “Pike it Berks! Nuthin' ta see here!” She barked, and the faces vanished back into the crowd. She turned back to me with a frown.
“Oh yeah. This is gonna take a lot longer than I thought. Come along Sticks.” She commanded, popping her helmet back onto her head and marching off into the crowd, forcing me to hurry or lose her in the throng. I hurried.
“Where, where are we going?” I asked cautiously as we wove our way through the crowd. I’m pretty sure at this point I was in shock. Both physical and mental. Which was both good and bad. The good news is that I was in sort of a Zen state, like thinking I was in a dream. (Yeah, I tried telling my self that too. It didn’t help.) So I just sort of accepted everything I saw. The bad news is I didn’t ask all the questions that I should have. That came later.
“To get some bub Sticks. If I’m gonna have to lann you enough chant to keep you out of trouble, I’m gonna need a drink.” She looked at me with a look that seemed equal part pity and concern. “Probably more than one.” She amended.
As we walked we clearly passed some sort of area boundary, the buildings, while the same overall architecture, size and halfhazard design, began to change slowly, becoming less stately and polished and more, common I guess? And the crowds changed slightly as well. There were even more people, (I hadn’t thought that possible) and the quality of their clothes went from fine fabrics and designs to more commonly worn as well. I commented on it to my guide. She nodded and snorted, possibly pleased that I had noticed.
“Yep. Yer lucky that you dropped into the Lady’s Ward. Right smack dab in the middle of where the rich berks call kip. The Harmonium keeps the peace as much as we can over Sigil, but the Lady’s Ward is our headquarters. Anywhere else and you’d likely ended up with the Dustmen before anyone who cares tripped over ya.”
We kept walking for a while. I was still in a daze, rubbernecking like an idiot tourist. We were following what seemed to be one major boulevard. CW called it Copperman's way. We passed some side streets, and some what looked like other major boulevards, including some streets whose names I still keep getting confused to this day. (Mostly because they keep changing on me.) I finally started getting tired, and realized we had been walking for a while now. I looked at the sun to try and get my bearings and maybe a sense of time passing, but I couldn't find it. The light just seemed to be coming from above, but not from one place. Finally I caught CW watching me sideways, and I realized what she was doing. She was keeping my body occupied while my mind caught up to what had happened to me. And everything around me. I wanted to be angry at her, but blast me with a lightning strike if it wasn't working. My urge to jump from the nearest tall structure was almost completely gone now.
“How long have we been walking?” I asked, much calmer than before.
“Almost an hour now. We're almost there. Not bad time. Your long legs must be handy.”
I saw signs that indicated shops more and more frequently, until soon it seemed that every doorway, archway and alley entrance had a small sign over it. I heard the roar of the crowd getting louder up ahead. I looked at CW.
“Yep. You seem like a smart cutter. So I figger that gettin’ you acclimated sooner is better. I’m takin’ you to the Grand Bazaar.” She said, just as we rounded another bend in the roadway where the buildings widened into a more open area, and I stared.
I thought I had seen everything at this point. I was mistaken.
The Grand Bazaar was my first impression, just moments ago, times 20. Or maybe 200. I had never seen such a collection of shacks, tents, booths, tables and,… STUFF in all my days. Like the buildings around us, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the setup. Everything butted up against everything else competing for space. I saw tables whose contents overflowed onto the tables next to them. And everyone was haggling at the top of their lungs. It was the most chaotic, disturbing, fascinating thing I had ever seen.
After a few moments CW took pity on me and tugged my elbow. We walked along the edge of the Bazaar for a bit, then turned down another side street, where the roar retreated to a manageable din. She led me into a small shop that turned out to be a pub. There was no loud bartering here. Apparently this was the spot for people who wanted to get away from the din for a bit. We sat down, CW removed her helm and ordered 2 drinks. The beer was poured by a skinny devil of some kind behind the bar, and served by a very attractive young lady with 2 tiny horns on her forehead. I had just met my first Tiefling. I was still too ‘Cagestruck’ to appreciate all of the potential puns. In the future I would remedy that. We drank.
Then CW leaned forward and said. “Alright cutter. Truth be told, I don’t know why I’m helping you out. Yer hardly the first clueless Prime sod I’ve come across in my days. And you won’t be the last. But,… I am a good judge of character. An’ there’s something about you,…” She took another drink and thumped the mug down. She was all business now. “If you have any Jink in yer pockets, next rounds on you. Now listen up, I’m only gonna say all this once.”
And She talked. And I listened. I won’t write down everything that she told me here. Some of it is jumbled with stuff I learned later, and any way I don’t feel like writing a set of encyclopedias. Although I might do that before I die.
CW told me about Sigil and it’s place in the Planes. The reason that I saw the ground rising in the distance is because it does. The City is a giant ring, with the side edges curved towards each other, spinning around the top of the most impossible thing in the cosmos, a spire that supposedly has no end. (It does have a top. I’ve seen it.) You can start walking around Sigil one direction, and eventually end back up right where you started. She told me about the districts, and the Factions. (There are 15, groups of like-minded beings sharing a common, usually extreme, philosophy.) And how they share ‘control’ of the city with each other grudgingly. All at the apparent permission of City’s true ruler. The Lady of Pain. Whose name she mentioned only once, and immediately looked as if she wished she hadn’t.
“She’s the power that the OTHER powers respect. And Fear. Factions that don’t believe in the gods call her a God. You don’t attract her attention, you don’t get in her path, you don’t tick her off, and for the sake of all the Higher planes, DON’T worship her! Doing any of those is a sure way to get Mazed or penned in the dead book. Keep out of her notice, and you should be fine.”
I had come woefully ill-prepared for an inter-planar journey. But I did have a pouch of coins in my pocket. Apparently gold is the Planar constant. I bought the next round. She nodded her thanks and continued. She gave me a layman’s perspective on the layout of the Cosmos, (Turns out Caldric was right to question the official textbooks. It was as if he knew.) She explained that Sigil is called the City of Doors because there are literally doors here to ANYwhere in the Planes. But you have to find them. And have the right key, which could be just about any piece of junk you can imagine. Stories abound of ordinary persons who became accidental plane-hoppers because they walked through a doorway they had used a hundred times before with a new trinket in their pocket.
CW went back to Sigil, giving me the general layout, more details about each district, particularly which to avoid until I was no longer considered ‘Clueless’, and where I might find work. I told her I didn’t need a job, I had to get back. She just shook her head and pointed out that the odds were long against me on finding the portal back home anytime soon. She assured me that it existed. Somewhere. But while Sigil was finite it’s doorways were infinite. I would have to find someone to locate the portal I was looking for. Or find it myself. Either way I wasn’t going home for a while. This was a lot of information to digest. And her use of the local slang was getting on my nerves. On the plus side I now had relatively easy access to the entire Cosmos, if CW was to be believed. That should have given the academic in me joygasms. But I kept seeing Caldric flying into the Gate.
CW must have seen it in my face. Her cherubic face wrinkled in worry. “Are you alright cutter?”
Bravado flared forward, and was instantly squashed by reality and cold hard reason. “No. No I am not alright. I just watched two men I admire more than anything in the world try to kill each other. According to you, I am now trapped in this,… Place, with access to infinite worlds. I can go anywhere in the Planes that I want, except home. It is entirely possible that I will never see anyone I know or care about again. No my dear. I am not alright. But I do thank you for asking.” I replied coldly. Far colder than I should have, considering her current kindness to me.
I felt like I wanted to burst out screaming, or foaming at the mouth. The small, cold lump of lead in my stomach felt like a mountain. I really needed a good long cry. But I felt hollow inside. There were no tears to tap. I just sat staring at my now-empty mugs.
CW regarded me cooly, scribbled something on a scrap of paper and pushed it towards me. “Here. Go to this place. They’ll give ye a bit of aid for a night or three. Long enough for you to get your feet under you. Maybe get you a lead on jobs. They’ll ask you to help out in return. Good folk. Just watch yer pouches. Not everyone they aid is as nice as they are.” She said matter-of-factly as she started moving, getting ready to get up from the booth.
I reached out and grabbed her arm. She raised a pert eyebrow at me, and I slowly released her and pulled my hand back. “How do I find you? If I have more questions?” I asked softly.
CW gave a small but genuine smile. “If you have to find me, you have serious troubles Sticks. If I have to find YOU, your IN serious trouble.” Oh, right. She was Harmonium, the officially-unofficial guard Faction of the City. From what I could tell, they acted like a private security force. They kept the peace, sometimes violently, in the majority of the city. Although their rights to do so were seriously questioned and curtailed in certain sections, and by other Factions.
“And there’s no end of persons to answer questions. Although most won’t give you the Chant fer free. If they do, be careful, they likely want something else.”
I nodded my understanding, and sighed heavily. “I need a friend.” I observed aloud.
CW stopped in the process of exiting the booth. There was a silent pause that lasted long enough to make me look up, expecting her to be gone. She was still there. She placed her helm back down carefully on the table.
“My name,” She said slowly. “Is Murphenrietta Cherrywood. My co-workers call me CW.”
There was another slight pause.
“My friends call me Murphy.”
For the first time in what felt like years, I felt the cold, hard lump in my stomach start to melt. Just a little. I held out my hand.
“I’m Case. Justin Case. It is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Murphy.” I said sincerely.
After that, things went,... well. They just went. As things are wont to do. I went to the address on the paper, after having to pay what I'm fairly certain was too much 'Jink' for proper directions. It was a shelter that helped the unfortunate and down on their luck. Fortunately being a newly-minted Planes-hopper /'Clueless berk from the Prime' qualified me to a hot meal of thin soup, and a cot. In return they asked me to assist them with one of the food lines, morning, noon or evening. (Or as they call it here, Before Peak, Peak, and After Peak) I think they were glad that I used minor magics to clean the dishes and pots for them. I rather got the impression that sometimes the helpers licked them clean.
I was allowed to stay as long as I helped out. I picked a meal-line time each day to help out with, and the rest of the time I got busy building my new life. (I don't say re-building my life, because for the nonce my old life was gone. This one was brand new.) As I mentioned previously, I had been woefully ill-prepared for Inter-Planar travel this day. All I had to my name were my school robes, one pouch of gold coins, (rapidly dwindling), my spell component pouch, and my small traveling spellbook that I always kept in the pocket of my robes. (Thank whatever power that you worship for that at least.) And my amulet.
First order of business. Clothes, supplies, etc etc. My school robes were high quality, but they weren't going to last long in this city, not with it's almost regular dingy rainfall and dirty streets and air. Even my cantrips weren't going to be able to keep me looking presentable with only one robe to my name. And my shoes were made by the finest leather worker in Sumdall, for walking on manicured lawns and clean cobblestone streets, not the half-hazardly uneven, muddy and rocky streets of Sigil.
I needed money. To get money I needed a job. Or work of some kind. Other than as a mystical research assistant, my only decently marketable talent was magic. Fortunately in THAT aspect I was not, quite, as bad off as the rest of me. Despite my high-level of research and knowledge, I was still admittedly a beginner. All of my known spells still fit onto one page each of my spellbook. But my Traveling spellbook had the majority of my most powerful spells in it. With the couple of spells I had memorized from my larger tome that morning, once I transcribed those to my book, I had 8 spells to my name. (Not counting Cantrips,) Far more than the usual beginning wizard, but hardly qualifying me for Archmage status. But it was a start.
I applied for work at the library, but never got a second interview. They should put up a sign,
'Well-trained but Clueless Prime Berks need not apply'. I took the odd jobs, using my magic sparingly, but effectively. I refused to work for the knee-cappers and such, (Some things never change, no matter what plane your on it seems.) but took magical repair and cleaning jobs, guard jobs and such. Unfortunately there are SO many people here in Sigil that Spellcasters seem to be a copper a dozen in this thrice cursed City. But I did my best. During my 'off' times I searched the wards and the flophouses for Caldric. And Althor. I figured if I ended up here, they might have too. No luck. But I kept looking. Eventually I began to get jobs guarding caravans and travelers going to other planes. That is when my work truly began.
I recorded every gate I used or saw, every key I heard about, and any rumor I could substantiate. If there was a way home, I would find it. If Caldric was here, I would find him. If Althor was still alive,... I would fix that too.
I became quite the Planar Traveler, in the company of others of course. There were private citizens just needing guards through dangerous or unsettled Planes, there were Holy pilgrimages to the Higher Planes, (and the lowers), Junk dealers traveling to Mechanus, wood traders to the realms of Fairie, (NO woodCUTTERS allowed!) and merchants going,... everywhere. And the constant use of my magic made me stronger and more powerful faster than I ever would have in the safe confines of the Academica classrooms.
On one of my caravan-jobs, I undertook a personal 'side quest'. We came upon a girl under attack by the most vicious version of goblins I have seen on any Prime world so far. We rescued her of course, but the guards and caravan-owner wanted to let her go on her way and be done with it. I convinced the girl to accompany me to our destination, and then I would escort her home myself. (I wasn't worried about being left behind, as I had made certain to obtain my own copy of the trinket that operated this particular return gate.) She reluctantly agreed. I saw the tiny caravan to it's destination (some dustbowl town called, Sandytown? No, Sandpoint.) then, after agreeing to losing a days pay for the rental of my horse, took the girl back towards where we had found her. She was able to lead me to her tribe. A nomadic group of dark-skinned humans that called themselves 'Varisians'. They were suspicious of me at first, but once she told them I had rescued her from Goblins (and not mistreated her) they threw a big welcome back party for her. And I got to be the guest of honor. Turns out everyone here hates Goblins. The girls father was so grateful for his daughters safe return that he convinced the Tribal elders to honor me with a Tribal tattoo, making me an official (honorary) member of the tribe. Well I am not big on tattoos, body piercings, that sort of thing. But it seemed to mean a great deal to the girl and her father. And I began to suspect that declining such an honor would be tantamount to a major insult. So I reluctantly agreed. Imagine my surprise when I later realized that these tribal tattoos were magical, and this one enhanced my already formidable evocation spells!
Best. Side Quest. Ever.
There were plenty of 'adventures' (Man, I used to hate that word!) in Sigil as well. You think crossing the Elemental Plane of Fire with a wagon full of Byzantyne hardwood is difficult? Try navigating everyday life in the City of Doors. I didn't have to go look for trouble, Trouble keeps finding me.
I finally found an apartment I could afford, not all that far from the Great Bazaar. It is on a small side street parallel to to Copperman's Way. (As this is the first area I became familiar with, I've always felt more comfortable here.) A tiny basement apartment with a barely-above-ground door, high narrow windows and a bonus. My basement apartment has a basement. I'll do something with that someday. I had moved in all of one day when I was paid a 'friendly visit' by the local 'insurance salesman'. Yeah right. My poor old, half-deaf land lady actually thought they were legit. After a little checking to make sure they were strictly small-time and local, I paid THEM a visit. The fools were living in the one building on their entire block that wasn't made of stone. Imagine that. My little block became much safer overnight.
I saw Murphy a few weeks later. She was checking in on me to see how I was doing. And to call in that favor. I gladly said yes. Turns out the Harmonium doesn't recruit a lot of casters, and they had come upon a murder that had definite magical origins. Rather than owe a favor to one of the other Factions heavier in casters, they had decided to allow Murphy to bring me in as an arcane consultant. (Having no Faction affiliation does have it's advantages.) Turns out Murphy and I make a good team. And I'm good at detective work. We found the magician who had committed the murders, Murphy got the bust, and I got paid. When she could Murphy called me in to assist with other cases involving magic. I wasn't going to get rich off of the Harmonium, but this had possibilities.
Another friend I managed to make in Sigil is Martin. Martin 'Harcase' Hardisson. He is a human Paladin. A true old-school do-gooder. I was handling a delicate retrieval operation, (A rare book had not been returned to the library. It was overdue.) at the same time Martin was on the block. He was also handling a retrieval. He specialized in retrieving 'cursed' (or 'blessed') artifacts of his deities enemy. Unfortunately these objects usually give their bearers great power. Were were both involved in 'intense negotiations' with our respective clients. (In my case, 'Intense Negotiations = Negotiations via fire spells)
<Really?>
<Hey, It was a VERY valuable book!>
And our clients paths crossed, and so did ours. Turns out Martin found my magical assistance useful on his magically-enhanced artifact wielder, and Martin was very useful in convincing my client to return the library book without further 'complications'. Martin is a very devout Paladin of a lawful power. I am not. We discussed things over a drink, decided we have almost nothing in common, and have been fast friends ever since. Martin and I both travel a lot, so we don't get to visit as often as we'd like. But I lend a hand when Martin needs assistance with a particularly nasty magic-using Artifact wielder, and I call my large, muscular friend when I need a dependable strong sword arm and a cool head.
Another personage I should note here is Marconi. Marconius Antonius, Kobold Crime Lord. Yep. You read that right. Kobold. Crime. Lord.
'Marconi' is a short, stocky, scaly little bad-@$$ who has managed to carve out a little niche of his own in the seamy underside of Sigil. Unlike most of his shorter brethren, he is extremely driven and focused. He is also deadly calm. Always. No matter what. If you ever see him lose his temper, something has gone very, VERY wrong, and it would probably be safer for you on another plane. ANY other plane. He does not like for his affairs to be brought to the attention of the authorities. He likes to take care of his business himself. Many people who have caused problems, either for him, or the locals or authorities have disappeared, never to be seen again. I met him when he approached me to ask how much it would cost to hire me NOT to assist 'Murphy' in the solving of a particularly brutal killing. Turns out one of the victims happened to work for 'Marconi' and he wanted to handle it himself. Short version, I told him he couldn't afford me. Since then we have been back and forth, trying unsuccessfully to stay out of each others way as much as possible. We will never be friends. Never. But I confess to having developed a grudging admiration and possibly a modicum of respect for the little lizard. Despite the fact that whenever we cross paths, something of Marconi's suddenly becomes flammable,...
'Marconi' is driven by something, but I don't know what. No one I have asked knows. Or won't tell me. (There's a lot of that going around this town.) While he is a despicable character, who promotes all of the worse vices you can imagine for the sake of making money, he is (apparently) not (completely) heartless. Many people who have fallen victim to the violence which accompanied his rise to power have found themselves the recipient of monetary gifts from strangers, or having difficulties with home, work or finances suddenly cleared of obstacles. In fact, the violent crime rate in his turf has actually decreased dramatically since he took over, as safe, prosperous citizens can more easily avail themselves of the entertainments he would rather be making money off of. Like I said. Despicable.
The little dinosaur always dresses in suits that cost more than I could make in a month. A GOOD month. And he is always accompanied by various hirees and thugs (‘bodyguards’) But the one constant is his primary enforcer/bodyguard Horace.
Horace is a gargoyle that looks like he was carved from a statue of an ape. And acts about as smart. But he is unflinchingly loyal to the little kobold, obeys him without question, and would willingly sacrifice his life for his boss. Horace is usually dressed in similar style to his boss. But no matter how well-made or customized the suit is, it always looks just a size too small on the gargoyle.
Well, despite my proclivity for spending my money on (necessary!) magical supplies. (Hey, good quality Scroll paper and ink aren't cheap!) I managed to save a little, and I have opened my own business. I even have a plaque. 'Justin Case, Wizard for Hire, Mystical investigations a specialty'. I still take the odd magical guard duty jobs, but mostly I handle finding lost objects, breaking minor curses, and help find lost persons. Stuff like that.
All in all it's not too bad. Sigil is anything but boring. I spend my spare time looking for clues to a portal home. And trying to discover what became of Caldric and Althor. I have my little private practice, some work for the Harmonium, and some well deserved time with friends when I can get it.
At this point I had been in Sigil about a year. Unfortunately, this is the point in the story when I found myself 'between jobs'. Which is a polite way to say that business was slow, the rent was due, and the cupboard was bare. And the relatively nice barkeep at my local pub had allowed me about all the credit that he was going to. I wouldn't have classified myself as 'desperate'. Not exactly. But I was definitely looking for the means to earn a few coins. Legally. Enter the reason I began this journal/trip down memory lane. And enter one invitation to visit the offices of the Silver Rose.
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OK, just found my new favorite journal. Nice job, Ragadolf!
Thanks Bryan! I appreciate that.
Working on the next part, boy did I underestimate how much we all like to chat, quote, respond etc! ;P
It doesn't help that when I go back to research, I spend more time reading than typing. ;)
Ok lads and lasses, here it is. Chapter 2, where Justin finds he has a couple of errands to run before he can start his new job.
Sorry for the length, and the delay getting to the 'Action'. BUT there was just too much good stuff (From the GM!) for me to skip it.
I cried when I had to take Monkey's page-length, beautiful, well-crafted, artistic atmospheric descriptions,... and condense it all into a paragraph.
Cried I tell you! :)
(The Monkey can do atmosphere like nobody's business!) ;)
Justin's Story, Chapter 2 - A Couple of Errands
So, I had been in Sigil a couple of months, (I may have exaggerated a little in my earlier entry. I am writing this from memory. Which while excellent, is hardly foolproof. In my defense, it FELT like a year!) And I was still having trouble adjusting. The slang seemed to change faster than I could learn it, I could hardly remember the nicknames for coinage they use here, and despite my exploration of Sigil and forays into the Planes, (Where I confess to having already gathered a wealth of information that would make me headmaster of any Arcane University where I'm from) I had zero luck so far finding any lead to a portal back home.
As I mentioned, I had set up shop as an arcanist down one of the crooked side streets lining Copperman's Way in the Market Ward. I found a basement office on this road, called Flourish Alley. Above me a malodorous witch by the name of Fernicia keeps a divination parlor, complete with seven ancient cat 'familiars'. (If she's the most powerful witch ever, then I'm the queen of Izmer!) Fernicia is also my landlord, but the rent is cheap. Well, the cheapest I could find.
Unfortunately, the level of competition in 'The Cage' as they call Sigil is fearsome. It takes a lot of effort to get business, and the dice just haven't been rolling my way lately.
The only spot of good luck I've had recently is that I found a good place to eat cheaply, called the Copper Cauldron. So as was my (New) usual custom, I was having my one meal of the day here while I tried to figure out what I was going to do next.
I gave Ramona a grateful grin and a flirtatious wink as she delivered my bowl of cheap but tasty brown stew and small, almost equally brown beer. The girl seemed to have taken a liking to me, and I was grateful for that when she gave me slightly larger servings for my quickly dwindling coins. But as she was also the proprietor's daughter, I felt that self-restraint was the better part of valor and hadn't taken any other advantages of her kindness. Yet.
I tried to eat slowly, savoring the stew as long as possible. I was down to my last few coppers, (I mentioned that the nicknames for money make NO sense here. Except 'Greens' for Coppers.) And this may very well be the last meal I could actually afford. But the rumbling in my belly was making it difficult to not pick up the bowl and chug it.
To distract myself, between bites I made a special effort to observe the others in the popular establishment. It was a trick that my mentor had taught me. If you examine people and objects close enough, you could tell a wealth of knowledge about them, sometimes more than a divination spell could give you. While I am intelligent, I hadn't had the patience to master the trick before, and now,... at the thought of Caldric, the pain in my heart made me forget about me stomach. I steeled myself and took another bite. Nothing to do now but find the way home. After that,... If Althor hadn't already paid for what he had done, he would.
After making half-hearted attempts to determine where some of the crowd lived and worked, my attention settled onto a couple eating together his table near the bar. To be honest my attention was first drawn to the attractive Aassimar woman, (As it should have been!) but it was her large, cat-sized dragon familiar perched on her shoulder that I stared at with a pang of, jealously? Regret?
I didn't have to wonder why I had never chosen to bond with a familiar. I had been too arrogant, too full of myself. I hadn't for a moment considered that I might need a familiar, a partner to help me. I figured at best it might be an exotic pet that could talk back. And now,... I reached up to touch the medallion hidden under my shirt. My last connection to my old life. My old World. I might choose a partner someday, but first I had to find a way back, to make it right.
I blinked tears away and forced myself to concentrate on the here and now. (There and then? I'm a Linguist, not an editor.) I took another bite of stew as I made observations about the two. How they were dressed, what they carried, how worn their weapons,... I caught a bit of their conversation as I regretfully finished my last bite of stew.
"Well, with Greep having to head home, our team is a bit shy of casting power. Perhaps the flyers I had put up will attract some arcanists to our door." The older man said as he ate a capon with relish. I mean he enjoyed it far too much. I was jealous.
'Team? I'm not a team player. But maybe it's time I learned a new trick.' I thought to myself as I gazed wistfully at my now-empty bowl. I felt my empty coin pouch. 'It's not like a have a lot of options right now. And if they're looking,...'
I took only a moment to decide. I had always been good at making snap decisions, for good or ill. I finished off my beer with a quick gulp and stood up from the table. I re-settled my long leather coat onto my shoulders before stepping over to the two and giving them an easygoing smile. I wasn't able to prevent my gaze from lingering on the attractive Aassimar longer than the gentleman, but I kept my gaze polite. I mean, Romana was right there.
"Hello. Nice dragon." I said to the lady with my most charming grin. "Excuse me for interrupting. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I thought I overheard you mention that were looking for an arcanist? Did I hear right? If so, please allow me to introduce myself. The name is Justin, Justin Case."
The older man looked up from his small squab and smiled.
"Please come sit down. Justin is it? I am Renkar Sha'Hagmid, and this is my associate Hanali Hal'Oight."
Renkar gave me the once-over. I returned the favor. I got the feeling that he came out ahead.
"You say you are an arcanist?" He asked taking a sip of wine.
I'm sure a flicker crossed my brow as I struggled to think where I had heard that name before, it sounded vaguely familiar,... But I kept smiling as I accepted Renkar's offer to sit.
"Thank you Renkar, Hanali, a lovely name," I said with a bigger smile at the Aasimar and her Dragonette. Hey, this Renkar may be hiring, but the Lady was VERY easy on the eyes.
Ah, And I managed to recall that both their last names were Sigil aristocracy. Hal'Oight was a very common name in the rumor mills and scandal sheets of Sigil. A Spiral Hal'Oight was one of the richest beings in Sigil, that in itself quite an achievement. If Hanali is related to him she must be loaded as well. I put on my dress manners.
"Yes, I claim to be an arcanist." I answered Renkar, allowing a small smirk as I noticed the man's eyes flicker over my clothes and gear, especially the cold iron longsword I carried. "I know my way around a Tome, and I can tear up a library like nobody's business. Where I'm from, We measure a spell's power on the Merlinscale. I can cast on the Second Order of the Merlinscale. Multiple times."
I looked from Renkar to Hanali and back again. I felt my smile slip as I became more solemn, less bluster. With a wry twist of my lip I continued.
"I don't know what you're looking for, so I'm not going to try and BS you and tell you I'm something I'm not. I don't do Necromancy. And I'm not a merc." I winces as the words left my mouth, realizing that I may be talking myself right out of a job.
'Ah what the h@ll, if they're mercs I'm not interested anyway. I've tried that once already. Never again.' I reminded myself. I plunged onward.
"I have my own shop, I'm a,..." my hand made lazy circles as I thought for a second. "Problem solver. I help people." I couldn't help myself, and I felt another small grin creep back onto my features. "You'd be surprised how many problems tend to disappear when exposed to eldritch fire. If you're looking for a caster that can do research, and then cast spells based on those results, then maybe I can help you?"
Renkar steepled his fingers. His gaze was focused.
"We tend to think of ourselves as .. specialists." Renkar said.
"We don't do assassination, necromancy, or bag jobs. We do like to take on cases for Sigil's residents, but we do have certain ... standards that other mercenaries don't. Helping people is one of the pluses of this game."
Renkar paused to take another sip of wine.
"We are in a bit of a bind caster-wise. If you can handle working in a specialist team, we'd be happy to give you a try. We offer free room and board here at the Cauldron, as well as equal shares in any monies shared by the team. We do our best to reclaim remains if it is feasible."
I felt myself relax. I hadn't even realized I was tensing. A small smirk crept back onto my face.
"A 'specialist' with standards I can work with. My specialty happens to be,..." I pursed my lips thoughtfully. Ah what the h@ll, They were going to find out soon anyway.
"Blasting. I'm h@ll at blasting." I shrugged my shoulders. "It's a talent. I appreciate your candor Mr. Renkar. It sounds like you have an interesting group. If you don't plan on asking me to raise an army of skeletons or anything, I think I may be your next caster."
Renkar laughed warmly.
"I promise, no skeleton armies."
Renkar held our his hand to me.
"Welcome provisionally to the team. As soon as you finish tying up any loose ends come back and we'll get you introduced to the others. Meet us at the Silver Rose, right next door."
I shook Renkar's hand and agreed to meet him again the next day. I left the Cauldron, wondering if I should wait to pack until I was sure that this 'Silver Rose' and I might actually work out. "It's not like I have that much to pack,..." I muttered to myself as I wandered the streets back towards my rented space.
Now, normally I keep a very wary eye out while walking the streets, but I was tired, and in a pensive mood regarding my current straights and how and why,... did I just sign up with a merc company for Pelor's sake!?! So I must confess I was completely startled when an otherwise empty spot between two rickety-looking pillars holding up a ram-shackle porch cover suddenly flared with a purple light and a large figure stepped through,...
I jumped backwards, raising my hands in a defensive gesture, but the spell died unbidden on my lips as I goggled at what had stepped through the portal.
It was a human, but that's like calling a Pegasus a 'horse'. It was more like a giant crammed into a human body. The man was tall, darn near 7 foot if he was a hand, with long black hair and bulging muscles sculpted into some woman's idea of godhood. He wore a loincloth, rough hide boots strapped to his feet, a sword nearly the size of me strapped to his back, and nothing else.
The giant of a man reached out with both arms as if to encompass me, and maybe the block, into a bear hug. I could hear tendons popping under the effort. The man took a deep breath that I still swear to this day caused a breeze, and he exhaled with a bellow.
"By CROM it's good to be back! That was fun, but a man can only take so much of Elysia before becoming bored!"
The giant looked down at my still-crouched form at his feet and smiled an enormous smile. Displaying perfectly squared enormous teeth.
"Here man! You look like a man who needs a vacation! Enjoy yourself!" He bellowed as he snagged my arm in a ham-sized hand that almost covered my arm from wrist to elbow, and plopped something that he had been holding unnoticed in his other hand into mine. It was a chicken. The bird was still alive, but obviously dazed from being carried. With a clap on the back that almost sent me sprawling, the barbarian strode off down the street.
The snicker of passerby who had witnessed the exchange snapped me out of it, and I looked at the chicken as it lifted it's head with a weak 'brawwk?'
"Not today, thanks. I've had my quota of paradise for the week." I told the bird. With a regretful sigh I placed the chicken onto the ground and let it go. (NOW I feel bad. The poor bird probably didn't make 3 steps.) I did however take a final look at the portal as it faded, noting it's exact location, the time of day, and that it had been a white chicken held in the right hand, and wrote the information down for future use.
Pulling up the hood of my long leather coat to hide my embarrassment from the locals who were still laughing at the 'newbie berk's' reaction, I shoved my hands in my pockets and stomped down the street myself. I noted an armored man turning circles in front of one of the less-reputable pubs and singing 'I'm a Pretty, Pretty Bint' at the top of his lungs. He was drunk or crazy. Either way, judging by the faces in the grimy window, he would soon have company.
I shook my head in complete bewilderment as I continued on. "Who in his right mind would want to live in this insane-atorium?" I asked myself.
My eyes swept the street, and I noted again the variety of beings making their way up and down the avenue. Regretfully I forced myself to re-appraise my observation.
'Maybe if I were a more research-oriented mage, doing a study on inter-dimensional politics, or cross-alignment business relationships,..." I took another, slower look around.
"This place is just so blinkin' weird!"
As I neared my own modest stoop, I heard the proprietor of the Magic Vat potion shop on the corner of Copperman's Way and Flourish Alley having a 'disagreement' with his much younger paramour on the shop's steps. Now, I admit I had an innate dislike of the owner of the squallid alchemy shop, a fat greasy tiefling named Maxus Korkalian. His young girlfriend, a trashy Hiver girl who goes by the name of Skyy, is easy on the eyes in a slutty way, but owns a mouth that would make a sailor blush.
I smirked as I caught part of Skyy's blistering diatribe, enjoying the obese tiefling's discomfort under the double glare of a public argument, and the Hiver girl's rapid-fire obscenities.
'If half the fat liar's stock were really magical, they would have soured in his shop by now. And Skyy's voice would have broken the bottles on the rest!' I chuckled to myself.
I sighed, Refusing to take TOO much pleasure in the discomfort of another, no matter how well-deserved, … and made my way back to my basement dwelling. I spotted my elderly landlady Fernicia tottering down her rickety wooden steps towards me as I pulled out my key.
"Master Case, a word wi' yeh, if yeh be so minded .."
Inwardly, I sighed. But my landlady really wasn't that bad, she hardly ever mentioned the damages to her building when I received unannounced 'visitors'. As long as I have it repaired. The third time I had to replace the doorway I spent my entire fee from that client to have both door and frame replaced with bronzewood. I added the strengthening spells myself. My personal theory was that she was bored, and took a perverse pleasure in watching to see who would bust in my door next. But she rarely took the trouble to hunt me down, and that attracted my curiosity.
I turned and smiled as the elderly woman made it down the final few steps.
"Of course m'lady Fernicia. What can I do for you?" I asked pleasantly as the ancient crone tottered over.
"I was wonderin' if yeh could help an old lady wot was feeling every day of her long life. I have a parcel I needs to pick up all the way across the Cage at the Temple of Zeus."
The old lady coughed a bit, and I got the distinct impression it was a little belabored.
"Seems a distant relative left me something, an' the temple has send a letter telling me ta come get it." Fernicia explained waving a parchment letter under my nose.
"I'd count it as a personal favor if yeh could go get it fer me. I'd hate to trust one of these local layabouts to get it. It would probably never reach me door!"
At that moment there was the sound of glass breaking over at the Magic Vat. I winced in spite of myself at the sound. (Breaking glass to a wizard?, never a good sound)
Fernicia coughed again, pointedly. The coughing was emphasized just a little more than I expected from the crone. She was old, but not frail. At least not in spirit. If she needed someone to pick up something for her, it was because she didn't want to go get it herself, or it was huge and she really couldn't pick it up.
"Of course, I'd be happy to help." I heard myself replying, smiling at the ruckus behind me but never looking away from my aged landlady. (She WAS a witch after all. Supposedly.) I accepted the proffered parchment and raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything else I need to know?" I asked with only a slight emphasis on the 'need', holding her parchment without opening it.
"As long as I don't need a wheelbarrow or cart, I should be able to get there and back before it gets too late." I commented as I tucked the paper into an inside coat pocket for safekeeping. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the fat tiefling ducking something else that Skyy threw at him, accompanied by the sound of more glass breaking. And more cursing.
'Good thing she's not bard-trained! Tiefling or not, that tongue would flay him alive!'
Fernicia smiled gummily up at me.
"Yer a foine lad, Master Case, an' let no one say otherwise. According to yon paper, it's just a small package, what my great uncle Philomenos left for me."
Now, I had to wonder how such an ancient old crone had a great-uncle who just popped off, but decided not to inquire, seeing as how the answer would inevitably end up taking an hour to explain. At least.
The sound of glass breaking echoed from the Magic Vat. I glanced and saw the blonde headed form of Skyy through a grimy window hurling an glass alembic at her portly beau Maxus.
I smiled at the ancient woman. Noting that her eyes were as sharp and clear as as glass. Oh yeah, there was a reason she didn't want to go and collect this item herself.
"Shouldn't be a problem then Miss Fernicia. I'll be back soon." I heard myself say.
'Oh yeah, I can never say no to a lady. Even an ancient one. One day they are going to be the death of me.' I chided myself.
I tipped an imaginary hat to my aged landlady and turned to go. I, Just, couldn't resist the urge though, and quickly stepped across the narrow street to the doorway of the Alchemists shop. I leaned too-casually on the frame and stuck my head into the doorway.
"Hello Maxus, how's business? Skyy! I thought I heard your melodic tones from across the street! You staying out of trouble? Oooo, you really don't want to do that! I'm pretty sure that one is real." I said in mock severity as I waved my hand and used a flicker of power to snag a glass bottle from Skyy's surprised hand and replace it back onto the shelf that she just picked it up from.
The fat Tiefling alchemist smiled, revealing a row of jagged, stained teeth.
"This one, on the other hand, I'm pretty sure is nothing but rose-water and Aboeleth-liver oil." I continued smoothly as I picked up another bottle from the same shelf and deposited it into Skyy's open hand.
The fat tiefling's smile fell, and Skyy beamed.
"Making money off the clueless is fine, but never try to peddle a fake potion to a guy who can Detect Magic at will." I added casually. I waved at the two with a smile. "I've got to run, you lovebirds have a nice day!" I called sweetly as I pulled my head back out the doorway and headed to safety.
I wasn't two steps down the street when the heard the sound of the vial shattering. It wasn't, quite, far enough away to avoid the suddenly noxious cloud that escaped the alchemists doorway.
'THAT will put a crimp in business for the day!' I thought smugly to myself as I hustled down the street. With a regretful sigh I wished that I had time to look up Murphy, or Thomas. Even Micheal's preachy optimism would be welcome now. Not because I was feeling lonely,... Well, ok, I was feeling pouty, but mostly because I had that hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck feeling that usually came when my old friend 'Trouble' (yes with a Capitol 'T') was hanging around.
With another sigh I looked up. I really needed to hurry if I was going to get back before it got too late. It wasn't that far of a walk, but the quickest way was through parts of Sigil that I didn't really want to walk through after-hours alone. Ever.
I resettled my coat onto my broad but skinny shoulders and started walking to the temple district. My pace was deceptively slow, as my long legs ate up the ground at a much faster rate than seemed at first glance.
I turned the corner of Flourish Alley onto Copperman's Way. The wide street was its usual cacophanous self, with screaming teamsters cursing, pedestrians thronging, and Clueless goggling.
Trying not to look like one myself (Clueless) I strolled along, headed towards the high-end shops that line the border of the Market Ward and Lady's Ward. Copperman's Way is lined with literally thousands of shops, many piled on top of one another like fantastical wedding cakes.
Then I heard a voice behind me, even over the noise of the crowd.
"Oi! Justin! Wait up!"
I looked back to see Skyy hastening up behind me. The girl had a skin that matched her name, a light pale blue. Her blonde hair was cut in a spiky do, and colored random swatches in Xaosman fashion. She sported several piercings, including a garish nosering Xaos symbol. She was sporting a ragged greenish minidress and some high heeled boots which she was having problems running in at the moment. She was splotched with several odd stains, most likely backspatter from her alchemy fight with Maxus.
'Oh yes. They will definitely be my demise.' I mused as I cast an appreciative eye over Skyy's outlandish and barely clad form.
"Oi! Can yeh help a damsel out? That moth@#$%^&ing rimjobber Maxus has thrown me on the bricks. I need to get to me workplace, an' I gots no jink fer a 'quin. Could yeh walk me there?"
I felt my eyes widen and my brow furrow as I heard this.
"I'm sorry Skyy, I thought it was just another of your and Maxus' 'Intense Discussions'. If I had known it was serious I wouldn't have butted in." I told her, feeling badly that I might have interfered in the relationship. Maxus' didn't really concern me, he was convenient, but there were other alchemists to shop at. And if most were not much better than Max, at least they were no worse. But I genuinely liked the chaotic Hiver girl. It bothered me to think that I had inadvertently interfered in what may have been to her, a genuine love interest.
At the same time, even though I had no immediate plans for trying to take advantage of Skyy's new availability, I found that at least now I could appreciate her petite form without feeling guilty about it.
My concerns and musing both evaporated as the delicate -looking Hiver girl waved off my concern with a rude noise and even ruder gesture. Both of which spoke louder than a thousand words.
"Oi' don' need yer !@#$%^' 'Sorry' Case! Ye didn' start deh fite, an' yeh did'n' finish it." She smirked evilly. “Oi did.” The large predatory grin looked positively out of sorts with her otherwise cute fey if Xaos-adorned features. "But yeh he'ped with deh finale, an' fer dat ah thankee." She grinned even larger. And more predatory.
"But dat !@#$%^&* wuz usual good fer a ride, tah wurk ah mean!" She smacked me on the arm (hard) before I could even get my 'What did I say?' face on.
"An ah'm wearin' mah wurkin' shoes. So kin yeh he'p a lady out er whot?" She repeated as she posed with one hand on her hip at a jaunty angle.
I barely managed to stifle the giggle. Also the sigh.
'I have GOT to learn to say 'NO'. It's easy, just two little letters. N.O...."
"Of course, I'll be happy to help." I heard myself saying for the second time in what seemed like heartbeats.
'Oh yeah. That'll teach her.'
"In fact, I'll do more than that." I continued as I took her by the elbow and pulled her to the side of the street where the traffic was slightly less likely to trample anyone moving slower than they were.
"Since I helped make the mess, the least I can do is help clean it up!"
I turned to face Skyy, and looked down at the much shorter Hiver girl with a smile. "Now, watch this!" I said. I couldn't resist showing off a little. I clapped my hands together, rubbing them and muttering a short phrase under my breath. With a casual sweeping motion, I brushed air over the spots on the girls arms, causing them to disappear.
"Oi! That's a clever trick! Ah knowed yeh weren't a bad'un like Maxus said! Go ahead then, fix me up!" She crowed, standing with her slim legs akimbo and her fists planted on her hips. She looked like she was posing for a statue. I smiled in response and began to clean her dress of stains. What little there was of dress to clean.
When my hands reached her neckline, She arched a slim eyebrow.
"Oi, careful there. Ah charges extra fer that!" She declared.
I merely raised my own eyebrow in response, and quickly moved downward, cleaning the all too brief skirt. I then leaned over to do her boots, and at the same time she (accidentally?) leaned forward, to watch me I guess, bumping into my head (with what I'm not putting in print) and giving me an even better look at her barely covered legs. And anything else I cared to look at.
'Oh-Kay. It HAS been too long.' I thought. Hastily finishing the boots so I could quickly, but carefully, regain my full height. As an afterthought I flicked my fingers a couple of times, and Skyy grinned as the aroma of vanilla wafted to her nose.
"Well now ain't that *&^%$# nice?" Skyy grinned as she admired herself in the grimy window they were in front of. I inwardly groaned as I realized we had attracted an audience of customers from inside the shop. Their faces pushed up against the glass didn't seem to bother Skyy any though. "Finally, a !@#$%^&* gennl'man whot knows how to treat a !@#$%^&* lady like a lady!"
I simply smiled. I was pretty sure that Skyy could only be mistaken for a lady if she could keep her mouth shut for more than a minute. In response I simply held out my elbow.
"Shall we m'lady?" I asked. Skyy hooked her slender arm through mine.
"We shall!" She declared.
And so once again we entered the dangerous realm of streetside navigation. Adjusting my longer legs to match Skyy's shorter stride we began the perilous journey up the street towards,...
"Um. Where did you say you worked?"
"I work at a dancehall tavern wots named the Fallen Angel. It's over in the Marble District. I show yeh as we go, it's not hard to find, but it's a bit of a stroll.." she explained, leaning on me.
As we walked, Skyy was kind enough to give me another lesson on the geography of Sigil. I had been given tours before, but never by such a combination of attractiveness, fun and foul-mouth-ery. Maybe this time I'd remember the street names. It certainly made the walk go faster.
We left the Grand Bazaar, headed towards the Noble District. Once through there we passed through the Court District, then the Temple District (where I noted the location of the Temple of Zeus for later.) We passed through Meatmarket Square (Where my stomach did more rumbling) then cut Spikeward through Swordhold. We practically ran past the Great Foundry, coughing the whole time, then reached and cut across Ragpicker's Square. We grew silent as we passed quickly through the undead-thronged Grey District, with it's sinister Skull-shaped Mortuary building and the ragged Collectors. Then we reached the Marble District (Finally! Even my long legs were tired.) and its main drag of Scab Way.
Scab Way is a melange of taverns, dancehalls, pawn shops and bordellos. Barkers sat on the sidewalk trying to cajole passers by into their establishments.
Finally Skyy stops at a building with a sign of an angelic female with cartoonish proportions dressed in scanty clothing. The sign reads:
The Fallen Angel.
Skyy looked to me and smiled.
"Yer a real bally cutter fer walkin' me all this way."
She gave me a warm kiss, and then smiled wickedly
"Can I getcher a drink afore yeh set off? I can get them to comp me on me tab.."
I grinned at Skyy like an idiot savant, then tried to give her my best 'bad boy smirk', but I think it came off more as 'goofy grin'.
"The company of a beautiful lady for a walk, and a beverage of my choice? My luck is improving!" I quipped, placing the fingertips of one hand on my chest for over-dramatic emphasis.
"Ah, i wouldn't want your, employer, to think you were trying to fill his joint with deadbeats. I do have another errand to run before they close the Temples, And I'm afraid I'm a little low today,..." I fumbled around the embarrassing words, and juggled my nearly deflated pouch to see what was left. I raised an eyebrow when it actually jingled back.
"Looks like I have enough to prevent myself from looking like a deadbeat after all! Very Well m'lady, I accept your gracious offer!"
Skyy grinned, waggling her eyebrows at me in what was probably supposed to be a suggestive manner, then turned and greeted the bouncer at the door with a friendly obscenity. I followed her after casting a last wistful glance at the unlikely picture on the sign.
'My angel will arrive. With my luck, When she does she'll look like THAT, but have Skyy's mouth!'
'Ok. One drink. Maybe two. It's been a crazy day.
I smiled at the growling gorilla guarding the doorway.
The bat-eared tusked bouncer gave me a frown, but his heart wasn't in it. At Skyy's murmur he stepped aside.
In the Fallen Angel The stage was alive with several scantily-clad girls dancing to a lively tune a gentleman on a piano was banging out. The dark lighting added to the ambience, and hides the pox scars many of the dancers sport. There were not many patrons in this early in the 'night', but a few flashily-dressed Hiver youths and a gaggle of Xaos factioners were scattered amongst the tables.
I gave the place the once-over after my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. Old (New) habit forced me to count the number of possible exits first.
'Now I know I need a vacation. I'm in a place with 'entertainment', and I'm still a worry wart!' I fumed as I allowed Skyy to lead me to a small side table. 'And a couple of the girls actually know how to dance,...'
Skyy brought me a drink without asking. I accepted it with a smile. Then gave her a larger smile in appreciation once I tasted it. Either Skyy had gotten me the good stuff, or this joint didn't water it down nearly as much as I thought they would. Or both.
"I've got to get to work luv, but I was wondering if you'd maybe like to help me out. Yeh see, I've got no kip now that Maxus that *^%@#** threw me out. Could you maybe let a girl crash at your place for a few Peaks while I get me pins in order?"
Then the young air-kissed girl gave me the puppy eyes.
Fortunately I was smiling at Skyy when what she said sunk in, because the look on my face was frozen there.
'Demise. MY demise. Gonna be the death of me.'
I just looked at the petite air-kissed girl. Her request seemed sincere, if over-acted just a touch. I couldn't help but notice that her leaning over to talk to me was allowing me a nice view, should I care to appreciate it.
I am either the luckiest, or UNluckiest, 'berk' on this whole stinking plane right now. And it HAS been a long time,...'
I looked into the girls eyes, and saw flirtation, and an offer. But I thought there was also a flicker of fear deep inside. Was it fear that I would turn her down? Or what I would ask in return?
'DangitDangitDangit. Gonna say 'no'. Should say 'no'. WANT to say 'NO'. One day I'll take that correspondence course on 'HOW to say no'!'
All of this flickered through my mind in a heartbeat. Just as Skyy's eyes started to darken, thinking maybe she had been rejected. I cleared my throat nervously. But when I spoke it was (I hoped) calmly and sincerely.
"Skyy, I don't want to take advantage of you. But I do want to help you out. It just so happens that I signed up today with a group that will hopefully keep me in extra work. So I may not be around much. If it works out I may even move out of the 'cave' for good. And I'm paid up with 'her omniscience' for another week. "
I smiled, careful to keep my eyes on her Fey, Xaos-adorned face. And not whatever else was on display. (You can't beat a Wizard for willpower!) "You can flop at my place for a few Da,... 'Peaks', if you need to. I'll stay on the couch, it's comfy. And you don't have to pay. In any way. Just,... take care of yourself, and get on your feet as soon as you can."
I'm pretty sure there was a hopeful glint in my eyes as I added, just a little more huskily than I had intended, "Anything else is entirely up to you." And quickly busied myself with my drink.
'<sigh> Why is it that I can tell Marconi to take a flying leap, but I canNOT say no to a woman? At least not a woman in need. Ah who am I kidding? I'm just too much of a Romantic/Cavalier/Gentleman. I just can't say no to women. Period.'
Skyy squealed (I didn't know she could do that) and hugged me tight, sitting on my lap. Yep. I was right, it HAD been a long time, and the tight clinch made that all the more evident. Skyy gave me an enthusiastic kiss, and broke off, panting slightly.
"Yeh're my savior knight Justin, an' I'll be sure to repay yer kindness in any way I can .."
Her slender hand brushed high on my leg as she levered herself off me. Slowly.
"I'll see yeh in the After Antipeak!"
With that she flounced off to the back area, her short dress swaying around her blue thighs.
I was left in disarray, my half-empty glass in front of me, the manic beat of the piano filling my ears.
I swallowed hard. Twice. Then reclaimed my glass and drained it in one long gulp.
'Pelor on a Pogo stick! It HAS been too long. I'm gonna need more money for beer. Or a bath. A nice, long, COLD, bath.'
After taking advantage of Skyy's offer of a free drink at least once more than I felt comfortable with, and spending all but the last few precious coppers in my pouch on another, (They may not be watered down, but they weren't cheap either!) I waved to get Skyy's attention. She flounced over, every part of her somehow bouncing in rhythm to the tune played by the Lyrist who has joined the piano player next to the tiny stage. I told her that I needed to finish my errand, and asked the chaotic maiden if she will be alright getting 'home'. Skyy waved off my concern, (She said I was sweet) explaining that she already had enough coin for a ride back to my place. "An' the night is young yet!" She laughed.
"But are yeh sure yeh don' want ta stay a lil' longer? Ah'm due on stage soon. I promise yeh won't regret it! Or Mebbe a private dance later?" She asked archly, waggling her eyebrows. "Aye said ay'll pay yeh back,..." She added wickedly.
The drinks had relaxed me and I laughed freely. "Can you cook? Cuz if so we'll call it even! My attempts at fixing a decent meal tend to be frustrating. And when I get frustrated, things tend to become flammable. The meat. The vegetables. The cookware,..."
Seeing her look, I sighed theatrically and gave up on general principal. Sitting back down I picked up what remained of my drink. "Alright, I'll make this last long enough to watch you dance. But after that I REALLY need to run this errand! It's for 'Her Omniscience', and since technically I'm not paying for TWO people to be living in the space, I really think I should try to keep her happy!"
Skyy squealed with girlish delight and gave me yet another distracting kiss. Much to the unhappiness of the bat-eared bouncer across the room. I made sure to keep my hands in plain sight.
"Yeh won' regret it, yeh'll see!" she whispered in my ear. Then she flounced off through the crowd to get ready.
'Cold. Bath.' I thought fuzzily as I deliberately pushed the remaining dregs of my drink away from me.
'I wonder if I can get Ice for my bath after dark?'
I gave up on trying to eyeball the other patrons, trusting the bouncers to do their jobs, and concentrated on not letting the alcohol affect me. Any more than it already had. But I didn't have long to wait before the lyrist, possibly a true bard judging by the above-average caliber of his playing, announced Skyy as the next dancer.
She was right, I didn't regret it. None of the dancers were bad, but Skyy was by far the best I had seen that night.
Though I confess that the recent kisses and alcohol may have influenced that decision. Slightly.
At the end, if I hadn't known I was too fuzzy to trust my alcohol befuddled senses, I would have sworn she was floating above the stage, instead of dancing on it. I thoroughly enjoyed the performance, and if she happened to give me a few more direct, teasing, glances than the other patrons,... That was their problem, and seemed to drive them into prying her with more coins to stuff into her nearly nonexistent costume in order to regain her attention. Win-Win for both of us!
When Skyy was done and floated offstage to the calls of the patrons for more, 'HOW exactly does one both 'float' AND 'swish' at the same time?' I stood up, a little too quickly for my beer-battered brain, and hastened out the door to complete my other errand. BEFORE Skyy could sweet-talk me into staying longer!
I stopped outside to take a deep breath, and immediately regretted it. Stupid air. Too thin to walk on, too thick to breathe. Still, once I stopped coughing, the cooler air helped to make me feel more alert. I noticed that it was already getting towards dark. Grumbling, I stepped lively toward the Temple District and to Zeus' Temple that I had seen earlier.
'Need to hurry. It's getting dark.'
'Need to find some food.'
'NEED a Cold Bath.' I decided, images of the last dance swimming in my mind,...
Focusing on possible danger as much as my muddled mind would allow, I hastily retraced my steps from earlier. Without having to match speeds with other, shorter people, I can cover ground fairly quickly. So I stretched my legs until I came at last back to the Temple District, Where the Temple of Zeus sits in all it's marbled glory.
The temple of Zues is a masterpiece of classical architecure, with fluted columns and mosaics depicting the life and times of the power as he slew his father, wed his sister and fathered a hundred bastards. And I think hes got a serious ego problem. Have you ever seen a SMALL temple to Zeus? I rest my case.
I asked directions from a functionary, who directed me to an underpriest, who called for a scribe, who sent an acolyte back into the cavernous recesses of the mammoth temple. He returned with a package wrapped in burlap, about 2 feet long and 1 foot in diameter. He handed it over once I showed him the letter for the third time.
'What is,...? "little package" my arse! I mean it's not the statue in Temple Square, but sheesh. It's heavy! I knew I should have bought a scroll of Force Disk.'
Ok, Despite my grumbling, the package was not very heavy, just awkward. I thanked the underpriest politely and left with my prize. Once I got to the temple steps I resisted the urge to peek under the burlap wrapping, (What did I tell you. Wizard = Willpower) and used a combination of minor magics to help me stabilize the bundle so I could carry it tucked under one arm.
Eyeing the fading light, I quickly began to retrace my steps towards my tenement. As the streets began to look dangerous, even to my seriously underdeveloped sense of self-preservation, I made a conscious effort NOT to hurry faster. I didn't want people to think that I was afraid, or carrying anything overly-valuable. Either would be bad and cause people to eye me as a target. Both would be disastrous.
I made a show of conjuring companion lights with a casual snap of my fingers. Just to let anyone who cared know that there was magical talent involved here.
Either my display of bravado worked, or no one was interested in what a lone human was carrying through the streets this particular eve. I reached the dubious safety of my building without having to do more than frown at one possibly over-curious fellow pedestrian for staring. Although he may have been a vampire.
It was with a sigh of relief that I climbed the few steps to my landlady's stoop and knocked on the door.
The cover over the peek hole opened, and I saw Fernicia's eyeball give me the once over before it closed again with a 'hmmph'. I heard the sound of bolts being undone through the door. At least three it sounded like. At last the wizened crone opened the door and looked me up and down. As if making sure it was really me. At first it looked like she might have been ready to harangue me with a thorough scolding, but her elderly eyes lit up when she saw the bundle tucked under my arm.
"Yeh gots it! Oi Masteh Case, Ah 'preciates dis' ah do! Ah jes' didn' feel well enuff tah make deh walk mese'f. Ah knowed ah could counts on you though! Ah wuz be'ginin' tah worry, on account yeh said ye'd be back earlier. Yeh, did'n have any, trubble, didjeh?" She asked, glancing quickly over my shoulder to the narrow street below.
I shook my head carefully to avoid aggravating it more. Then quickly released the spells I had been using to keep the bundle under my arm. Shaking my sore arm out, I handed it to Fernicia with a slight bow. "No problems. I just got sidetracked a little. A, friend, asked me to help her out as well, and as I was walking that direction anyway,..." I trailed off as he noticed the elderly woman's eyes narrow slightly. I turned to look behind me, but saw nothing that attracted my attention.
I turned back to the landlady, puzzled, but she was looking at me again.
"Um, so anyway, no troubles. But I was wondering,..." I rubbed my neck nervously.
"A,... friend,... is having a little trouble, and asked if she could stay with me. Just a for a few days, Peaks! Until she gets back on her feet. I know our agreement was for a single occupant, but I just signed up for a job that will hopefully keep me busy, so I probably won't be around much. And I'm paid up through the week, so I figured it was probably ok, but I wanted to ask you,... first." I mumbled off as the crone's clear eyes turned to peer directly into mine. For a fleeting second I got the impression she could see straight into me.
Maybe she's not just a Fakir, making a living,...'
She blinked, breaking off the stare, and the feeling disappeared. She snorted and gave me a positively evil grin.
"'Bout time sumone used yer doorway fer sumthin' besides a batterin' ram! An' I wundered who it wuz yeh would let in. Skyy's alrigh'. Bettern' dat fat slob anyways. Long as yeh keeps yer arquments INdoors ah don' min' nun." She chortled. Her grin got even bigger when she saw the looks that crossed my face.
"Dat wuz a mighty entertainin' figh' out dere dis AfterPeak. An' a nice touch yeh added to it too." She chortled, confirming my suspicions that very little happened within sight of her tenement that escaped her attention. "Ah heerd him tell'er not tah come back, an' ah sawr her chase off down deh street afteh yeh. Don' take no book learnin' tah figger why she wuz tryin' ta catch yew. She kin stay with yeh. Jes' keep YER lover's spats indoors, Ah gots a reputation teh keeps!" She chides, waving a bony finger under my nose.
I blinked and leaned back from the wrinkled appendage, momentary flashes of my walk past the undead that day rushing through my mind. Then what Fernicia had intimated caught up to my tired brain.
"Oh, no. I mean NO! It;s not like that! She just needs a place to crash, that's all!" I protested. Much to the cackling delight of Fernicia.
"Of course, of course." She said soothingly, grinning all the while. "Yer a genn'lman Masteh Chase, an no mistake abou' dat! Ah have no douts dat yer intentions er honoruble! An' ah thanks yeh agin fer pickin up me package!" She chortled, backing into her doorway with a final glance at the street.
"Ah'll giv yeh an' extra days rent fer yer trouble. But have the next weeks here early deh nex' Peak-Rise! Now iz late, an ah'm tired. AH'm gonna git mah bones tah bed. Guud afteh-Peak Masteh Case, an' thanks agin. Don' be up too late yerself now!" She added with a final lecherous wink before shutting the door in my face. I heard her chortling over the sound of all three bolts being worked.
I let my head fall against my chest. "Awwww, man!" I muttered, and then took the few steps down from my landlady's stoop, and then the few more down to my basement lodgings.
As I shut the door, I groaned as I remembered that I hadn't thought to give Skyy a key. And her job would keep her out late. 'Early-Peak' or 'Post-Anti-Peak' or whatever in Hades they called it here. I was going to have to have to wait up on her so I could let her in. I flopped onto my couch with a moan of half frustration, half pleasure.
"At least I got my exercise today!" I muttered as I opened one eye enough to aim, pointed a finger, and sent a powerful jet of flame at the logs in the fireplace. The wood caught with a crackle, and I closed my eyes once more. One spell well spent. The fire had enough wood to keep the chill out of the basement dwelling for the evening. All I had to do was stay awake long enough to let Skyy in, and I could go to sleep. "And I HAVE to be at the meeting at the Silver Rose early tomorrow! Good first impressions." I mumbled aloud as I relaxed. No problem. I normally went to bed late anyway.
I awoke thinking that something was wrong. I kept my eyes closed against the glare of light coming in through my single, narrow, high window. The light was up. But I was warm and tired and didn't want to get up yet. Wasn't there something that I was supposed to do today? I snuggled closer into the warmth. It would come to me when I woke up. Then the warmth snuggled back.
'Warmth? Light? Skyy! The Meeting! Am I late? I'm late!'
With a jerk I sat up. Or tried too. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and looked at what was preventing me from rising. A blue-skinned form was laying on my arm, moaning and wiggling softly at being disturbed. I carefully retrieved my arm and looked at Skyy. She snuggled back into the mattress, and I covered her with the blanket out of reflex. I was relieved to see that she was still wearing her green dress from the day before. Not that it hid much. In fact I was still dressed too. Everything, including my coat, was still where it belonged.
"How did you get in?" I muttered, looking at the still-locked door across the basement from my tiny bedroom doorway.
'Yeh let me in. An' yeh showed me the bedroom, an' yeh fell asleep. Yeh were the perfect gennl'man the whole night." Skyy mumbled in reply from under the covers with a knowing smirk. She opened one eye just enough to see me with. "We'll havetah work on that, y'know." She murmured sleepily.
"Um. Yeah. Right. Maybe later." I replied cleverly. I stumbled to the basin and splashed cold water on my face. "I have a meeting I have to go to, and I'm late. I think. I told Fernicia, and she said it was ok if you stay here for a few days. Peaks. My spare key is on my table. I don't know when I'll be back. I don't have much, but you can help yourself to what I do. OH! and, um, if you see something that you don't know what it is, don't touch it. I'm practicing to learn how to craft magic items, and so far my results have been,... unstable." I said all in a rush as I stumbled sleepily from side to side of my tiny apartment, picking up a few odds and ends and putting them in my pockets. I shoved my pair of bright blue caster gloves with gold stars into my coat pocket and turned to face Skyy through the bedroom door.
'Um. Enjoy your rest. Day. Peak. See you later!" I said quickly. I took one last lingering look, then headed out and closed the door behind me.
Outside the apartment, I locked the door, then leaned against it with a sound that was either a sigh or a groan.
"Oh yeah, this is gonna work out just fine." I muttered, (unknowingly echoing Skyy's sentiment's within. She told me later. Although I think when SHE said it, it was with a completely different meaning.)
I turned on my heels, raised my coat's hood against the typical soggy Sigil morning, and dashed off down the street. Fortunately it was fairly close.
Panting from my efforts, and holding a stitch in my side, I reached the Copper Cauldron and read the sign on the space next door. I had seen it often, but hadn't really paid attention to it. The sign read 'Silver Rose', with a silver-paint enameled picture of the flower named.
Catching my breath, I swiftly used the same charm I had used on Skyy last night and made myself look more presentable. Then I took a deep breath to center myself. “Showtime!” I smiled, and entered the offices of the Silver Rose.
Thanks for the shout out! I love Sigil, and it is a joy to write
Great chapter btw!
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Thanks for the shout out! I love Sigil, and it is a joy to write
My pleasure you betcha!
:)You are one of the reasons I decided to try this!
It's my thank you card for all the fun! :)
Awesome!
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Ah boy.
I'm being picky. I've been re-editing this next chapter, but I think it's just me now. :P It ran longer than I expected, (14 pages, with lots of spaces between lines and paragraphs) Considering it is only based on 2 pages of game thread.
But it is a GOOD 2 pages! :)
Chapter 4 is a work in progress. Until then; Enjoy.
Here we go,..
Justin's Story- Chapter 3, "A New Beginning" (OR, 'Meet the New Kids')
Justin's Story Chapter 3 – A New Beginning
(Or, 'Meet the New Kids')
(Thread Page 64-65)
I checked my work with the prestidigitation charm in the reflection of the window. Hair presentable, shirt stain free, (if not entirely wrinkle free). Long leather coat cleaned of the morning's dirty rain, nothing ripped or torn. I finished drying my boots with another wave of my hand and a muttered charm. Good enough.
I took a breath, let it out, put on my happy face, and opened the door to the offices of the Silver Rose.
I entered the front foyer accompanied by the tinkle of a tiny bell over the door. I looked at it, then at Hanali, the Assimar I had met the day before, (was it only yesterday?) along with Renkar at the Copper Cauldron. She was sitting behind a small but exquisitely made table of what looked like Darkwood sorting some papers. She was wearing a diaphanous dress and a dazzling smile.
I returned the smile. “Hello Hanali. Nice to see you again. I hope I'm not late?” I asked, a little worried since I didn't see anyone else waiting in the front room.
Hanali put down her papers and stood to greet me. This afforded me a better view of the lovely Assimar and her gauzy gown. I smiled bigger, but managed not to turn it into a smirk.
'DOWN boy! Your in enough trouble for one day. Night. Peak. Whatever.'
I was proud of myself.
“Not at all. Your right on time. Please Justin, head into the exercise area. Everyone's meeting there.” She pointed the way with a gesture that belonged on the dance floor. Oh she's good.
I thanked Hanali politely and made my way into the building. Turns out the offices of the Silver Rose were far larger than the front entrance would lead one to expect. Instead of a couple of rooms, at first glance it looks as if Renkar had managed to acquire a majority of the first floor of the building. Maybe more.
I found the room right where Hanali said it was. I may have been 'on time' (barely) but it turns out I was one of the last to arrive. I ducked my head out of habit and entered the exercise room. (In an effort to save space or materials, the residents of Sigil built fairly low doorways. A real pain in the behind for me personally.) As the name implied the room had a variety of equipment for both personal training and combat practice lining the walls. I saw a gaggling variety of persons already there, eyeing each other speculatively. There were a few females, a male, and one winged female wearing only a slip. The small dragon that I had seen before lay on a large perch, his orange black-striped wings furled.
(Okay, now this following conversation, as well as MOST of ours since then, tends to get rather,... convoluted. We all like to talk first, and it has been a while, so things may have gotten a little jumbled. I'll just put it down as best as I can remember.)
Judging by the way that some folks were clustered and others stood apart, I could tell which were the 'old hands' and which seemed to be newcomers. Like myself. I straightened my coat self-consciously, and joined the loose circle, unabashedly studying them as intently as they were now studying me.
One well armed and armored warrior woman, not large, but she looked self confident, stood on one side speaking quietly with what looked like a young elfin lass practically hiding behind her. Nearby a young female catfolk with a black cat perched on her shoulder (The cat looked like it was barely past being a kitten) stood talking with a very young girl with short black hair who looked barely out of her teens. While talking the female feline kept casting glances at the winged woman, and I swear I saw her lick her lips. It looked like she was thinking 'Mmmm, Chicken.' I wondered what the Harpy thought of that.
Yes, you read it right. Harpy. There was a harpy standing in the middle of the group, wearing nothing but a slip. I was grateful she was wearing that much. On my world Harpies aren't known for their fashion sense.
'Shards and shells! I thought I'd seen a lot since I got here, but cat-people, and a HARPY?!?' I thought, not able to contain my surprised expression.
'What kind of a group have I signed up for?'
At this moment, Renkar entered the room. He looked around, nodding at those who met his eyes, and seemed to be taking a head count. Renkar cleared his throat and the murmuring stopped.
"Good Peak to everyone. I can see that everyone is here, except.."
At that moment a shadowed form entered the room. An eerie aura surrounded the newcomer, as if all the warmth were sucked out of the room. His tall form stood imposing, seeming sharper and more in focus than everything else. Bedecked in black leather he seemed to draw the darkness to him like a lover’s embrace. His long smoke grey hair seemed made of the stuff of shadows, flowing into those of his cloak, his handsome features at once alluring and disturbing in their perfection. His eyes were rings of luminescent white in a sea of black, piercing, accusing, relentless.
Renkar looks over, startled for a bit, then smiled.
"And here he is. Welcome Drazek. Now the group is complete. Welcome, old friends and new, to the Company of the Silver Rose."
When the last guy, 'Drazek', arrived, my attention was drawn like everyone else. I studied the newcomer from under half-lidded eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight.
'Warlock. Great. Just. Perfect. Not to be judgmental. I've summoned my fair share of unfriendly extraplanars myself. Just because he made a deal for power doesn't make him evil. But it sure doesn't make him friendly either.' I thought fitfully.
I nodded politely to him, and managed to drag my eyes away from the newcomer who seemed to bring the shadows with him, only to find the cat-lady looking at me from half-lidded eyes. One side of of my mouth twitched upwards in a smirk, and I gave her a half-wave in greeting. I raised an eyebrow as the feline and the young girl exchange purrs and meows.
'The kid speaks kitty?! What is she doing here anyway? She doesn't look old enough to be a mercenary.' I thought looking the pair over.
Renkar reached into a silk bag and pulled out a silver cloak brooch fashioned in the shape of a blooming rose. He held it up for all to see.
"These are our sigil, and help to identify you as under my charge. Please, take one."
Renkar passed the pouch around the room. After everyone had a pin he sat and gestured to the others to do likewise if they wish.
"I wanted everyone to get to know each other a bit, so I'll let you all introduce yourselves. Then I'd like to get right down to business. I have had several inquiries, and I'd like to get your input as to what mission you would like to attempt." Renkar looked around the room, waiting for someone to start.
Drazek simply kicked back in his chair, putting his boots up on furniture not designed for feet, and murmured something about 'Pretty bird' and 'Bad kitty'.
I pulled a chair out from its place along the wall with a foot and flopped my long form down into it with about as much grace as a tired hound. I wondered who would volunteer to go first. I mean I was never shy, but with this group, I wasn't about to go first.
The first to go was the slightly built warrior woman. As she stepped forward I could see that her skin had a light reddish tinge to it, and she had tiny horns high on her forehead, just peeking out from under her long red hair. The tiny horns were capped with silver. She was a tiefling.
"Hello everyone," she said, "My name is Karrin Kind and I'm a duskblade. That's sort of a masher and blaster rolled into one awesome package. I can blast stuff at range or I can chop stuff at close range and channel magic right through my weapon. I was one of Renkar's first employees and I can show people the ropes if you want. I don't know much about Sigil, or the cage as we call it here, I've only been here for a little over a month, but I do know about mercenary work and that kind of thing. I've been doing that for a while now and I'm real good at it."
Karrin moved to sit down, when she suddenly remembered something:
"Oh ya, and this is my Axe," She said as she drew her massive great axe. It seemed far too large for her slight if sturdy frame, but she handled it as if it weighed no more than a dagger. Karrin's eyes seemed to focus on the crystal blade as it glowed a soft blue, "Ferissirion. Neat huh? Anyways I think that's about it. I'll let everyone else have a say."
I thought I felt a cold breeze coming from Karrin's direction when the axe glowed blue.
Karrin stepped back, and said something to the girl still hiding behind her. The girl whispered something that seemed to be a negative. Karrin just smiled, revealing her sharp teeth, and said, “Oh hey. This here is Nari. She's a little shy.” Karrin introduced the elfin lass. Shyness was obviously NOT one of Karrin's weaknesses. She looked around the room, and her gaze fell on me.
What the heck? I stood up, (Drazek wasn't the only one who can do tall dark and imposing.)
"Greetings,... all. Names' Justin. Justin Case. I'm a wizard." I smiled at Karrin. "Not the best of two rolled into one, Just the one. But I'm good at what I do. 'Have spell, will travel'." I quipped and sat back down.
I saw the feline lass looking at me. I'm no expert on feline expressions, but I'm pretty sure that she was frowning at me. Or growling. Seeing me looking at her, she stood up straighter.
"I'm Merle and this is my partner Seph" She indicated the black cat on her shoulder.
Seph raised one of his front paws and waved in greeting. Bemused, I found myself waving back.
There was a gentle cough from the tall, lithe man with short brown hair, green eyes, slightly pointed ears and a goatee. He was dressed more like a worker than a mercenary: a simple and oft-mended brown jerkin, pants secured with a belt rife with pouches, well-worn boots on his feet. The only visible weapon on his person was a fine machete-like short sword in a scabbard patterned like a lizard's scales. He looked to be somewhere in his mid to late-twenties, with a boyish smile. He surveyed everyone from a point near the center of the room, leaning on a practice dummy's shoulder like a school chum.
"Well, like I was tellin' Karrin earlier, the name's Isaac." Isaac's voice was a little rough, as if he'd been breathing harsh air or talking loudly for a long time. But his voice was as friendly as the smile he gave.
"I'm from Yggdrasil originally but I've been in and out of Sigil for years. I used to run with the Sirroc'ran Tirraith (I recognized this as Elven, it means: 'The Razor Wind') mercenary company, but things didn't work out in the last year or so. I'm a Godsman, still only a namer, though. As far as what I can bring to the company: I'm a scout, a skirmisher, a ranger, a blacksmith, a locksmith and a trapsmith. Pretty good set of eyes and ears, too, when I ain't running my mouth off!"
He leaned in conspiratorially.
"But if you want the truth? I'm actually a reincarnated kangaroo rat here to scope out your planar society for our eventual rise to power. I'd appreciate it if you would keep it under your hats, though, eh?"
After looking at him as blankly as some of the others at this last statement, I laughed. He smiled back.
The short, dark haired girl also gave a small laugh at Isaac's words and looked him over, with a warm expression and approving eyes.
She paused at something Merle meowed, thinking deeply on it for a moment before looking over the rest of us with a grin. I was not sure this was a 'good' grin.
"I go by many names, but most call me Swift" She purred softly. Leaving her introduction at just that.
The Harpy flexed her wings and drew herself up to seem bigger. Her wings gave her bulk, but she is still quite short compared to everyone but Swift.
Stepping forward, her tiny silk slip slid seductively over her curves and seemed to offer no protection whatsoever. She cleared her throat and announced, In the precise, clipped pronunciation that seems to be the hallmark of 'nobles' no matter what world they hail from, "I am Lady Bethany Archaise, Scion of the Noble House of Vex Archaise, Second House of the Nation of Harmonia. I am new to this City, having only been here for a couple of days. I have taken this position to facilitate my return to my home, as I arrived with nothing but what I carry." She indicated a finely crafted, but apparently empty Quiver nestled between her back and a well cared for Haversack with Bronzewood buckles and fixtures.
"I wish to make it clear that this is not the type of work that I would normally be doing, but I am committed to assisting the Company in any way I can."
With that she steps back, looking around expectantly.
I raised an eyebrow slightly. You could hear a pin drop.
Swift's eyes were on Lady Bethany's equipment, silently appraising the items before lifting her gaze to the harpy's face with a mischievous grin. "Well that was a mouthful, I'm going to call you Bessie" She decides aloud.
A scowl appears on Bethany's face. "My name is Lady Bethany. I will allow you to call me Bethany because we will be working together, and I will even respond to Beth if it is urgent, but I will not answer to 'Bessie'." Bethany declared coldly. I thought I felt the temperature drop again.
All eyes in the room moved back over to Swift.
Swift laughed a little as she observes 'Bessie', playfully braiding her hair as she did so.
"But I think Bessie suits you, besides do you never feel the impulse to be a little less uptight? You may be of noble bearing but right now you're away from that, why cling to all the airs and graces? Right now most of the people in this room really don't care."
She finishes with a shrug before looking to Merle. The two girls exchange purrs and meows.
And I thought I caught Swift giving Drazek the eye. You know. The look that most guys like to get.
Meanwhile, I couldn't help it. I tried, I really did. But I snorted. At least I didn't full out laugh.
"I'm sorry, 'Lady Beth'. But I'm afraid I have to agree with the kid on this one."I said with a nod of my head to indicate Swift.
"No matter how important you are back home, the fact is that nobody here has ever heard of your illustrious place of origin. Just like nobody has ever heard of 'De Academia Illustrious Mysticale', apparently." I used the antiquated, 'official founding' name of my University. I also bit off my statement at the end. Probably a bit harsher than I had intended.
I quickly recovered and tried to smile politely at the harpy,... Bethany. "But like you, I'm also 'more important' where I'm from. And I'm looking for a way back too. So maybe we have something in common?”
Yeah I know. That didn't come out right. But I wasn't TRYING to be a jerk. Honestly.
Trust me. When I'm trying, you'll know.
"Swift I don't think you're being very nice," Karrin intervened, a hint of emotion in her voice, "Not all of us are here of our own free will. The cage is a scary and strange place and some of us cling to our past lives because we keep hope that one day we'll be able to return home. I'm sure it's only good natured teasing but not everyone understands your humor."
Karrin turns to the harpy noble, "I apologize for my companion your grace," Karrin said with an awkward curtsy, (Important safety note for Future Female Adventurers. Armor was not made to curtsy in.) "But Swift is correct in a way, there's no place for the nobility in the sword for hire business. We need to trust everyone in this room with our lives and we can't have preferential treatment for some of our members and not for others, not when we're on the job anyways. You'll need to pull your weight your grace like everyone else. I think respect is earned. If you can accept these facts about the mercenary game then you'll never have any problems from me."
Karrin turned back to the group.
"That goes for everyone in this room. Except maybe Renkar. He's our employer and he knows this business backwards and forwards. If anyone deserves our respect it's him . . . hmmmm, that didn't come out right, what I mean to say is we should all hopefully earn respect but Renkar . . . we all need to prove ourselves to each other but I'd hope that Renkar has already earned that respect by simple virtue of experience and his position as our employer."
I raised an eyebrow at Karrin's little speech. She seemed a little, scatterbrained.
Well-intentioned. But scatterbrained.
Swift shrugged slightly "I suppose I just see things differently. The cage is a scary place so rather than cling to stability I enjoy things as they come, each day could be your last, so live it." She replied with a smile "My comments aren't there to be 'not nice', just me speaking my mind and being friendly. I like the name Bessie.. if not Bessie can I call you Bethy?"
She asked this looking to Lady Bethany once more with a small grin. "I like short names, they work well until I can find a fitting deedname. It's just the way I was raised."
With another shrug she stretched lazily looking over everyone in the room again. She reached into a pouch, pulled out an apple, and placed it on the perch next to the napping miniature dragon.
Bethany scowled again at Swifts reply, then sighed and composed herself. She rolled her shoulders, causing her wings and, um, 'ample pectoral muscles' to both flex in interesting ways.
"Very well. If you must you may call me 'Bethy'." She acquiesced cooly, but without bitterness.
I admit I relaxed visibly. I had half been expecting Swift's friend Merle and 'Bethy' to go at it for a minute there.
Renkar stood up, silently commanding the rooms attention again.
"Thank you. As I have explained to the new folk, we are a specialist company. I am a planar traveler from way back, and I was born and raised among the merchant elite here in the Cage. One thing I always saw as a hazard is that many adventuring companies didn't have enough depth of talent. They would either concentrate on swordplay, or magic, hardly ever both. I decided that with my connections and a good team of adventurers we could all profit."
Renkar paused, glancing around at all of us briefly.
"I have had a few offers lately, and I would like to discuss them with you."
Renkar held up a finger.
"A gentleman by the name of Urgrek of Clan Earthborn has asked if you could accompany him to the city of Deathdelve on the Elemental Plane of Earth. He is taking a shipment of arms to his people and he is wary of attack by the Xorn king. Those who attended Guarsimo's soiree with Hanali last month might remember him. You all certainly made quite an impression on him and his daughter Azania."
He held up a second finger.
"A gentleman named Gedramak Ironfist needs to hire some investigators to find a Hive dweller who has disappeared. This berk, name of Eliath, has some dark that Ironfist is frantic for, an' he's willing to pay top-shelf for it."
And he held up a third finger.
"A strange simian-like cutter name of Charath has asked if we would like to sign on to combat an invasion of his homeworld. I think you might have met him at the soiree as well. His world sounds delightfully exotic, basically a large tree like Yggdrassil."
We all looked at each other for a moment. Merle was the first to speak up.
"Maybe we should go for the second one? I mean finding someone should be easy enough right?"
Isaac piped in, "I'm interested in the first or third. Your first offer sounds more specific, which I like. Easier to figure what we're up against. Did this third fellow say what exactly was invading his homeland?"
Drazek snorted. "So babysitters, bloodhounds or strike squad. I know where my vote's goin'."
"Hmmm," Karrin mused aloud, "The second one is detective work, something I don't think I'd be very good at, but the first and third are my kind of thing, guarding and fighting. The first though sounds like it would be a quick job, maybe kinda easy, and the guy has lots of money and getting in good with him would be good for business. The other could be a long drawn out affair . . . if we can only do one I'd say the first would be my choice. However we got a lot of people now Renkar, maybe we could try the first two, and if everything gets handled expediently we might be able to handle the third as well . . ."
Lady Bethany was obviously considering all three options before replying. Or perhaps she was just trying to make sure she didn't offend anyone by how she responded? Naw. She's royalty.
"The first job sounds easy, but a visit to the Elemental Plane of Earth is not something that appeals to a flier like myself. Opposites if you will. I won't say no outright, but I have my reservations. The second job is more to my liking since I feel that the third job could end up being a long drawn out affair." She still spoke 'properly' (or 'stiffly'), but without any bitterness. Apparently she wasn't one to hold a grudge.
I decided to chime in. Karrin wasn't the only one who wasn't shy.
"Hm. My first pick would be for finding the 'lost' guy. It doesn't sound that difficult, might be a good idea to get to know each other before we tackle anything 'major'. And I have a knack for finding and putting together clues. Unless, of course, he doesn't want to be found?" I looked at Renkar.
"Why does this potential client want him so bad? What kind of info does he have that's so important? Come to mention it. There's a lot of details I'd like on all these. Like who's attacking this kingdom? And why does this arms dealer see the need to hire a specialty service like the 'Rose', instead of using his usual hires to guard what sounds like a standard delivery?"
I realized I was nervously twirling the Silver Rose pin between my fingers. I stopped and looked at Renkar again. “You mentioned that at least two of these potential clients were at a society function not too long ago? I know that a lot of society types mingle at these things. So likely not unusual. I also know that I don't like coincidence. Mainly because I don't believe in it."
I realized I was frowning. I tried to stop. I was way too young for wrinkles.
Merle's fur bristled at my response. Her posture changed. It looked hostile.
(What did I say?!)
Merle said something in kitty-speak to Seph, who responded. Whatever the young cat said to Merle she wasn't expecting it. She lost the attitude and her shoulders slumped. It was hard to tell under the fur, but I think she was blushing.
Drazek just smirked at me. "In my experience, when a lost man don't wanna be found, he ain't real friendly to those who come lookin'. And any man pays to find him, it's 'cause the bastards afraid o' somthin'" His voice was, off. Almost like it was two voices not, quite, speaking in unison. It was slightly disturbing.
"True.” I admitted. I had found THAT much out quickly in Sigil. Very quickly. “And the fact that this client must want the unpleasant something this individual found doesn't make me happier." I chewed on my bottom lip thoughtfully. Bad habit I was starting to pick up. I stopped.
Renkar smiled at me. Probably my verbosity. I do tend to use a paragraph where most folks use a sentence.
" I can provide a bit of extra information about the jobs Justin. First, a trip to Deathdelve isn't as easy as hiring a tout or a courier. There is no direct portal to the burg, and there will be an entire caravan of weapons traveling from the Great Foundry to the Outlands, to a way-world on the Prime and then to Deathdelve. It's a long journey fraught with danger.”
“The missing person is a barmy in the Hive. This might be a little more difficult that it seems. Anyone who has spent any time in the Hive knows it can be an unfriendly place, especially to those asking questions. As to why Ironfist wants this particular fellow, he let it be known that this cutter was once a sage of some sort and that his madness was caused by too close study of unwholesome things. Supposedly he holds some darks that Ironfist covets, but he wasn't about to lay the particulars on the table for me.”
“The third is the oddest. The being Charath as far as I can understand lives on a giant tree, or more of a bush I suppose. His world isn't really a world, more of a collection of immense asymmetrical bushes suspended in an endless sea of air. Lady Bethany, you would definitely be in your element there! Charath and his 'Troop', a word for a clan or nation I suppose, need help fighting an evil force called the Vermin Lord, who commands swarms of both insects and undead from his lair, which I gather is one of these huge bushes, but dead and wrapped in some sort of insect hive.”
Renkar chuckled.
"The whole point of going to the function was to advertise our services Justin! Urgrek came to me because, quote, "Your team seems well-balanced and ready to handle anything." High praise indeed from a Deathdelve Orc! Charath, on the other hand, is looking for mercenaries all about. His people grow exotic spices and plants that are valuable in alchemy. They can pay their bills and if we can assist them I am sure we will be well rewarded, not just in our initial payment."
I felt myself start to blush, but murmured thanks to Renkar for his explanations. OK. I was smarter than the average person. Probably the smartest person in the room. But I was going to have to learn to stop jumping to conclusions. Or stop being so suspicious of everyone and thing. Yeah, right. Stop jumping to conclusions it is.
Harpy Bethany perked up a little.
"I am liking this third job more now. The chance to get out and stretch my wings would be welcome."
Yeah, I guess a flyer used to the actual open skies wouldn't be excited about the dingy thin dirt that Sigil called 'air'.
Swift was scratching Seph under the chin, much to the young cat's delight.
"I think I'd be of most use on the first or second job. I like the outlands.. and then there's the fact I excel at finding interesting things, I'm sure I could extend that to interesting people" She declared with a little self-satisfied smirk.
My eyebrow arched again. I felt my own smirk coming on as another puzzle-piece clicked into place.
'Ah. A 'Collections Specialist'. NOW at least I know why she's here. She still looks too young though.'
Isaac scratched his goatee a bit, in thought.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but it seems like a fair number of us haven't spent a lot of time in The Cage. Seeing as the Hive is a short walk away, and a short walk to the Temple district in case of emergency... let's do the second job. We can rattle our bone boxes while we walk, find this addle-cove and those of us that ain't well-lanned yet can get a sense of how things are in this madhouse. From the bottom up, as it is."
"Though, at the same time, looking for someone in the Hive is sort of like trying to find a needle in a haystack, that only LOOKS like it's full of hay, but is instead full of rusty nails, razors and meathooks. I'm sure it'll be fine, though."
"Great.” I managed to draw the word out sarcastically, almost painfully long.
“I'll pack the disinfectant. And mix some Tetanus antidotes,... It'll be fun!" I said with a big, sarcastic smile. But I pinned the Silver Rose onto the wide lapel of my long leather coat. Right next to the small gem that was sewn into the collar.
"Alright Renkar, so who are we looking for?" I tried to muzzle my sarcasm. But in truth I was fully engaged for the first time since the meeting started. I had a problem to solve. This I knew how to do.
Renkar cleared his throat and the chuckling subsided.
"We would be looking for a cutter name of Eliath. The chant our prospective employer Gedramak Ironfist gave me was that Eliath was an arcane researcher working for Gedramak on a project. He didn't feel like sharing the dark of what happened, but Eliath ended up losing his marbles and wandering down to the Hive before anyone knew what was up with him. From there he vanishes.”
“Ironfist said Eliath is a short wiry cutter who's missed a few too many meals. Last thing anyone saw him in was some threadbare blue wizard's robes. His hair is white and he squints a lot because he's nearsighted."
Renkar paused, considering his words I guess. (I should probably learn that trick at some point.)
"Now if we do take on this job, I will need those who are the most familiar with Sigil to be the front line. The Hive isn't a safe place to go thundering through without a care."
Renkar looked at Karrin,
"Miss Kind I know you have been doing charity work in the ward. Perhaps if you started with some of your contacts down there?"
“You got it boss!” Karrin agreed enthusiastically, throwing Renkar a jaunty salute.
Renkar laughed. "That's the spirit Karrin! We'll find this Eliath in no time!"
Renkar looked at the rest of us.
"If any of you know any Xaosmen, Dustmen, Doomguard or Bleakers, it never hurts to pump them for information.”
“I could ask the Bleakers.” The elfin Nari said softly. Then she seemed to realize that she had spoken out loud, blushed furiously and went back to studying her feet behind Karrin's armored back. I began to wonder if this quiet lass had the nerve to be an adventurer. Much less a mercenary. Even one with Renkar's standards.
Renkar smiled at the shy lass. "Excellent Naridre! They are the most important faction to ask since they do so much with the barmy population in the Hive."
The 'Boss' looked around once more. “So, Should I notify Mr. Ironfist we are taking the job? Or would you like me to set up a meeting so you can question him further?" Renkar asked the room.
We all looked awkwardly at each other.
Drazek snorted. “Well that's that then. When do we start rattlin' cages?” He asked, pinning a Silver Rose onto his own collar.
Renkar grinned and spread his hands. “I will give Ser Ironfist his confirmation. We can start anytime. In fact, I would encourage you all to go together this Afterpeak, for safety. I'd recommend you be out of the Hive by Antipeak. The Dustmen's hours are not a happy time in the Hive."
Drazek snorted louder, "Do I look like I'm afraid o' the dark?" He sneered.
Renkar actually frowned at the warlock this time. "No Ser Drazek, you do not. But, are you smart enough not to go traipsing around one of the most dangerous urban landscapes this side of the Abyss after Antipeak with little or no experience?" He asked pointedly.
" I s'pose I am." the Warlock grinned at Renkar's reprimanding tone.
Issaac raised his hand politely to gain Renkar's attention. "This Gedramak Ironfist: what kind of chant do you have on him? What does he do? Is it possible that whatever darks this barmy's got in his brain-box he wants to keep from Ironfist? Does Ironfist have competition, someone that maybe would've given this Eliath a better offer? Got to be a reason he gave his employer the laugh, even after he went barmy."
Renkar seemed to consider his answer. "It's hard to tell what he does. I think he is an adventurer looking for a specific item or location. In the interview I had with him he claimed client privelidge with me, so I didn't get a lot of darks from him. I got the feeling that Eliath was a portal researcher. It's a common thing in the Cage, as the portals shift and change constantly, old ones closing, new ones opening. Ironfist claims that Eliath was spotted in the Hive in the Madhouse District acting barmy right after he dropped off the project. Is it a scam? Maybe. Having visited the Madhouse District I would say it's a bit far to take a scam to wander those streets for any length of time."
Issaac nodded. "Well, that seems to pretty conclusively lead to the Bleakers for a start. Probably best if I keep my mouth shut when we go for a visit. From there, we can probably figure out the next step and if we need to split up or what have you."
Ah yes, I was fuzzy on this part, until I remembered Issaac had mentioned he was a Godsman. I still wasn't up on all the Factions, but I did know that the 'Bleakers' and the 'Godsmen' were pretty much on opposite sides of the belief wheel. Short version, Bleakers don't believe in the gods, and the Godsmen believe that after enough reincarnations you become a god. They never party together. How's that?
"Well maybe this guy didn't disappear himself," Karrin said calmly. "Maybe he's crazy, maybe he's lost, maybe he found something in his research that led him to the hive? I mean all these things are possible right? But if someone else took him, and took him for a reason, we might be playing into a game between two or more powerful entities.” Karrin's eyes were closed, almost like she was in a trance.
There was a distinctly cold breeze coming from Karrin's direction. I shivered slightly (And I was wearing a long leather coat!) as Karrin spoke in this much calmer voice than her initially perky self.
Karrin continued, “Anyways, although this could be an easy search we'd better not take any unnecessary risks right? I mean people get killed . . . er, put in the dead book for just being in the wrong place or bumping into the wrong person, never mind asking questions where people don't like questions being asked. I think we should go in groups." She offered sagely.
Karrin blinked as if hearing her own words for the first time.
"Yay teams!" she said with her original energy. "Maybe we could have a friendly competition? Every clue gets a point, whoever gets the most points gets . . . hmmmm," Karrin struggled to think of the best prize. "I know: supper! Ya, that would be a great." She said with youthful enthusiasm. Apparently she liked to eat?
I nodded my agreement, still puzzled at this temporary personality switch. Was this a normal thing?
"I have to agree. I've not been here long, but even I've noticed that it's dangerous to walk across the street in the Hive, much less down it asking questions." I volunteered. I smiled at the room.
"So, we start with the,... 'Bleakers', and Miss Kind's friends. Hopefully that will provide us with enough solid evidence to narrow our search. If we can determine something distinctive that he is wearing or carrying, I can pick up a scroll of a spell that will allow us to locate it easier. But it's a fairly short-range spell. Good for finding a room in a building, not locating a building from out of all the others in the Hive." I shrugged and stood up, stretching my long legs.
"So. When do we leave?" I asked.
Bethany shuddered from the same cold breeze I had felt, visibly drawing everyone's eyes. It is quite clear from the sheer nature of her slip that she was cold all of a sudden. She shivered, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms, but seemed otherwise unconcerned with letting us see her in such a state.
"I have absolutely no idea what most of what you just said means. So until I and some of the other newcomers learn how to act in the City and about the different areas, I think it would be wise if we don't split up too much." She gave me a look that indicated clear disdain, or at least serious doubt.
(NOW what had I done?!?)
"No more than two groups.” Bethany continued. “I would like to be partnered with either Isaac, or Karrin myself as they seem the most knowledgeable and could teach me the most." But she was giving a very predatory look at Drazek.
I saw Karrin beam when Bethany named her as knowledgeable.
Renkar nodded. "I think two groups is an excellent idea Lady Bethany, and Karrin. I would say, Karrin, Nari, Drazek, Justin and Bethany for one. Issac, Merle, and Swift for the other. That splits the talents and the knowledge as cleanly as I can figure. IF and when Eir arrives, she can join Isaac's team. She was taking care of some business and,... may have gotten, delayed.” He said discretely.
“Any objections?"
We all looked around the room at each other. There was a general murmur and affirmations of assent.
"Excellent! I would say Karrin's team should go investigate the Madhouse District, and talk to the Bleakers. Issaac's team, I would say the taprooms and gathering places of the Hive. If you can get any info of the Xaosmen or the Dustmen, that would be a bonus. The Doomguard shouldn't be a priority, unless they've been stepping up their 'entropy enhancing' lately, but you never know."
"Good luck, watch your backs, and be safe." Renkar offered sincerely. And in obvious dismissal.
We all looked at each other, agreed that we all had what we needed, and awkwardly gathered together and exited the offices of the Silver Rose.
Another great narrative retelling! We have such a great ensemble
I like that Karrin character, something about her seem to tickle my funny bone.
Course it's the likeable ones that always get killed in these types of stories.
Yeah, me too!
I think I'm going to have a lot of fun showing Justin's thoughts on that feisty female. ;)You think?
I think that anything that can kill Karrin is a truly scary monster. That's what I think!
And Justin agrees! ;P
(Justin has come to the conclusion, mistaken or correctly, that Karrin is an unstoppable force. And he doesn't want to run into anything that can prove otherwise!) o_o
Another great narrative retelling! We have such a great ensemble
Aw shucks, thanks. :)
We do, we REALLY do!
Lots of fun PC's and played wonderfully. I spend WAY too much time just re-reading the pages instead of editing/compiling/writing. So much fun.
AND I'm having a REAL problem with editing! (For length) I don't WANT to gloss over anything and say (for example) 'They went to the Dustman pub' because there is SO much wonderful descriptions and interactions, I just want to include it all! o_O
Thanks for the shout out Pat. Glad you like it.
Credit where credit is due. Great thread, great GM, great PC's/Players, worthy of song.
But you'll have to settle for a narrative! ;P
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Wow. It takes time to wade through all of this (great!) stuff! ;P
At least this time it was more than 2 pages! :)
6 pages, to be exact. I am now noting the Thread Page numbers at the top of the journal entries for reference to those interested.
I'm SLOWLY getting the hang of it, Which parts to quote verbatim, which to edit slightly, and which parts to make my life easier by simply re-telling that part as a new narration /summary of the action. :)
You may notice some, slight, adjustments between 'reality' (the PbP thread) and Justin's Journal entries. Mostly rearranging of posted conversations to make more sense due to quotes/replies/etc. But occasionally I made some character choices, and while Justin has a great memory, he does tend to recall things in a more favorable light for himself. ;)
Thank you for your patience, Please enjoy Justin's Story, Chapter 4- Part 1
Justin's Story – Chapter 4
'We're off to see the Barmies!'
(Thread Page 66-71 )
PART 1
(Thread Pages 66-68)
After a brief, awkward moment shuffling outside the Silver Rose offices, we started walking, (Well, Bethany flew, lucky bird), heading towards the urban wasteland known as the Hive. Since our two destinations weren't that far apart in the grand scheme of Sigil's layout, we decided to stick together for now. Safety in numbers and all that.
We exited the Market Ward, where the afternoon (After peak?) shopping crowds were the smallest I had ever seen them, meaning just shy of complete chaos. We passed through the Nobles and Court Districts, gradually loosening up as we, (some of us at least), began to chat to pass the time while walking.
We passed through the Holy Quarter, and I saw the roofline of the temple of Zeus a street or so over. The street we followed Issac and Karrin down had another large temple bearing a sunburst symbol in need of a whitewash and some other structural love. In front of it a rather ragged priest was warning a very small, disinterested, crowd about the dangers of abandoning some power named 'Pelor' to follow the 'upstart Dawnflower'. From there we entered meatmarket square, which was filled with smells that made my tummy rumble. Again. I had slept through breakfast this morning, and apparently I was going to miss lunch too.
We passed through Swordhold, drawing curious stares from other groups similar to our own, Probably adventurers. One Particular group, consisting of three elves, a dwarf, a Githzeri and a beholder surrounded by a dozen whizzing ioun stones, seemed particularly,... confident. They were all chatting amongst themselves when we spotted each other. Our groups prudently decided to traverse on opposite sides of the street, keeping a wary eye on each other.
When we entered the Foundry District Issac smiled, from his comments this is his home turf. He seemed happy as he inhaled deeply. The rest of us just coughed a lot. Passing the Gear Street area we saw a crowd watching someone operate a large device that looked like a mechanical lobster. I was interested, but I was also on the clock. Maybe next time. We traversed the Hellgate District as quickly as we could, (It is rumored to be home to more portals to the Lower Planes than the rest of Sigil combined.) And before long we had located Gramercy street, along one edge of the Grey District, home of the Mortuary and where Issac's team hoped to gather information from the 'Dustmen'. Not too much farther down the road was the 'Gatehouse', entrance to the Madhouse District. My lucky destination.
We stopped in front of 'The Gathering Dust', one of the many bars supposedly popular with the Dustmen in this district. I felt my usual smirk taking it's accustomed spot on my face.
'Great. THEY get to chat up the locals from behind a nice mug of beer, and I get to talk to crazy people. My days just keep getting better.' I grumbled to myself. I managed to keep (most) of the snark out of my voice as I asked the group when we planned to meet up later. Issac suggested getting out of the District before dark, and meeting back at the Silver Rose. Merle suggested sending Seph with our group so we might have limited contact. Neither she nor Seph looked particularly thrilled at the prospect. But it was a good idea.
Issac said, “Sending your friend Seph sounds like a good idea to me, but that's up to you, Merle. Best of luck with the Bleakers; try not to catch a case of the crazies."
So Merle Handed Seph over to Karrin, and the young feline assumed a perch on Karrin's armored shoulder. I got the distinct impression that he wasn't as comfortable as he had been previously.
As Issac's group, (or as I had started to think of them, 'The Lucky B@$tard$'), Headed towards the pub, I called after them, "I've heard a little bit, but no one's bothered to enlighten me. Who are the 'Dustmen' any,...way." I trailed off as Isaac opened the door to the pub, and I caught a glimpse of the clientele.
“Ah, Hades. Nevermind.” I muttered, no longer nearly as interested in the pub-crawlers good fortune as I was a moment ago. I recognized the grey-cloaked forms of those within. These were the generally unhappy people who played with the dead people. And sometimes the Undead people.
Issac chuckled good naturedly at my response. "A little barrel of laughs, each one of them. Of course, a few barrels of manic cackling is mostly what waits for you ladies and lads, so I'd call it a rather even assignment."
We nodded at each other, and Merle and Swift followed Issac into the Dust while the rest of us turned to Karrin and the small elf girl.
'What was her name anyway? It's like if I'm not looking at her, she wants to disappear. Nari? Yes.' I mused before smiling broadly at Karrin.
"So, you two have the contacts. I guess that makes you the leader of this little expedition. Ready when you are. After you ladies!' I said with with a half-bow and outstretched arm.
Karrin, Nari, Drazek and I started walking as Bethany took to the dingy skies once more. We headed out towards the Zaddfum Trestle and the Ditch. The rotten-clam stench of the Ditch hit me like a physical blow as we crossed the span. I was suddenly glad I had an empty stomach.
Once we cleared the worst of the 'Trench-Stench', Karrin stopped and turned to face us. She stood with her feet apart, her hands on her hips, and straightened up to her full height. A little less than five and a half feet tall.
"Alright everyone," Karrin said, doing a fine imitation of what most folks think a drill instructor would talk like. "I'm going to level with you: I'm not much of a talker or a leader-er, but it seems that I'm the one that's got the most mercenary experience and the one that knows the cage the best . . . not sure what Renkar was thinking, but we're just checking out my contacts at the soup kitchen and at the church and that's kinda a soft ball mission. But I'm not taking any chances! If we do run into trouble we better figure out what each of us can do so we can figure out a strategy. Naridre Is a caster after a fashion. I'm a masher, so I'll form the front line, Naridre should form up somewhere behind me, seems easy enough, now do we have a healer or a flanker/skirmisher or a stealth expert?"
Drazek spoke up, (MAN that guys voice gives me the creeps!) "Front line fightin' or pickin' 'em off at range are just as easy to me. And trust me I got a weapon when I need it. If we need tactical I can handle elevation, and I reckon with the quiver and wings, Bethany here'd make a damn good skirmisher." Drazek volunteered, pointing to Bethany keeping pace above us.
Drazek looked at me directly, a not-so-subtle challenge in his gaze.
I returned Drazek's gaze with half-lidded eyes and a raised eyebrow. One side of my mouth turned upwards of it's own volition, I swear.
"I can handle myself in a, brawl, if needed." I replied evenly, my left hand idly resting on the pommel of my Cold Iron longsword. My stressed inflection of 'brawl' left no doubt as to my opinion of that pastime.
"Given foreknowledge and preparation, I can prepare for almost any eventuality. Since arriving here I generally keep a charm ready that allows me to understand and speak any language, as well as a protection spell or two. And I usually prep a spell or two that can summon creatures to assist if needed. But my specialty is,..." the other side of my mouth turned up to join the first.
"Blasting. I'm h@ll at blasting."
I nodded slightly to Drazek, as if to say, 'your turn'.
I saw Drazek's eyes flicker to my sword, and he flinched. Just a small shudder. That confirmed my suspicions that he was a Warlock. Cold Iron was rumored to interfere with their abilities, due to their ties to infernal powers. "If this place is as dangerous as they say, I'll show you mine soon enough." He replied coolly.
I raised an eyebrow. I was getting pretty good at that. “Show me a target. Unless it's big AND fireproof, you won't need your,... weapon.” I smiled with genuine humor. I thought that I, might, just actually like this fellow.
Karrin just looked at the both of us, Nari standing behind her with her eyes wide. Then Karrin shook her head, turned on her heel, and began marching on, muttering to herself. I thought I caught ',...men,...' and ',...just answer the question,'... 'is that hard?,...'
Drazek and I looked at each other, then hurried to catch up. I actually felt a little bad for falling prey to testosterone- laden macho-ism. But, there was NO way I was going to lose a game of 'my magic is bigger than yours' to a warlock. Not happening.
Past the Zaddfum Trestle was the Madhouse District. The first decayed tenements of the true Hive Ward began to lurch skyward like so many upraised claws. The persistent fog thickened as the smoke from dozens of garbage fires in the Hive thickened the rainy mist to a pelting, stinging blast. I raised my hood higher on my head. Not long after we saw the large, squat form of the Gatehouse before us. Crowds of obviously poor folk were all headed that way, looking for a place to crash or a free bite I guess. They saw us and we were instantly bombarded from all sides. Pleas for money, food, and other, more unusual cries for assistance and crazy-fueled proclamations rose rapidly until Drazek gave them a stare.
I should say, 'Until Drazek gave them THE stare'. I'm not sure what he did, exactly, but his eyes flashed, the shadows around him deepened, and I think he may have growled. Our path was immediately cleared of all but the craziest of the crazies. Of course that ONE was pretty persistent.
This lone remaining fellow followed us as we approached the Gatehouse, telling us a most unlikely story about how they drilled a hole in his head and 'hit me wif' light'nin!'. To be fair, he DID have a wicked looking, half healed stitched wound on his forehead. But still, I found his tale unlikely.
Nari, however, seemed to be drawn to help the poor fellow. She had tried to vanish behind Karrin when all of the others had gathered around us, but for this guy she came out like a protective mother hen.
"I'm sorry it was so awful," she said softly, barely more than a whisper. "Is there anything that I can do to help? Would you like to go to the Gatehouse? Maybe they can help you."
This was not what the crazy man wanted to hear. He began crying hysterically, “I don't need to go to the Gatehouse! The Doctor said I'm cured! I'm cured!”
He kept repeating 'I'm cured' hysterically until a man in chainmail approached and gently lead him away. “Don't worry miss, we'll take care of him.” The man told Nari as he escorted the crazy. Nari whispered a barely audible “Thank you” before retreating once more to Karrin's shadow.
I just shook my head. My own feelings were somewhere between Drazek's obvious disdain and Nari's pity. “If HE'S cured, then I'm a Pit Fiend.” I muttered. I heard Drazek chuckle behind me as we followed Karrin the rest of the way to the Gatehouse unmolested.
The Gatehouse is hard to describe (like the rest of Sigils architecture if your from a 'normal' world.) It is a huge, open-roofed Tower, at least 15 stories tall, but shaped more like an arch, with 5-story wings radiating out from the central tower in a sunburst pattern. And of course the requisite spikes and gargoyles are there too. It's like there's a law for them or something.
There were several lines of people there, some waiting in soup lines, some seeking shelter, and some just looking lost. Karrin had mentioned that she volunteered here sometimes, as did Nari I think. I hoped they knew where to start looking. Because if we had to do a search crazy-by-crazy, I was gonna be crazy before we were done!
I had no sooner thought this to myself when Nari gave a small smile and waved at a particularly large tiefling with an entire crown of horns on his head. I thought this was an odd reaction for a girl who had been quietly trying to disappear since I met her today.
“Do you know him?” I asked Nari, indicating the large tiefling.
"Because if you do, we should start by asking him. One thing I know about places like this, trying to get information from people behind desks is like pulling teeth from a dragon. While it's alive."
Nari blushed. She actually looked at me when she spoke, even though she didn't look me in the eyes. "Actually they're very kind and helpful here," she says softly. "I met Hlar when I was here before, visiting my teacher. He has the forgetting sickness."
I mumbled something conciliatory. (Hey, up til now I hadn't had much practice, OK?) I think she muttered a thanks in return. (Wow. I'm really off to a good start with THIS young lady),...
Seph, on Karrin's shoulder, seemed to be trying to communicate with the warrior. The little fella was meowing a lot. But she was deep in her own little world. And I don't think she speaks cat.
It seemed to be Drazek's comment of, “So. What's the next move Red?” That snapped Karrin out of whatever thoughts she was wandering through. She looked up, saw H'lar, and made her way straight towards him as if he wasn't surrounded by poor, and possibly insane, Sigilites.
"Hello Hlar," Karrin said brightly,
H'lar stood up from the group of children that surrounded him. “Hello Karrin, Naridre. Are you here to visit Majeed?” He asked, but Karrin was already talking.
"Sorry for not saying hello just now, we're on a job and I was sort of wrapped up in my thoughts. We gotta find this guy who's in the hive somewhere and we got next to nothing to go on. Worse he might be not quite right in the head . . . all loopy and stuff, and although some might think that'd make him easier to find, I think it's gonna make him harder to find cuz most people see right through the crazies like they just don't exist or something. Anyways we're gonna try asking over at the Gatehouse to see if he was spotted there but I think if we're being paid to do this job our employer probably already tried there. That would be too easy. Still we got nothing it's a cold trail and getting colder.”
"Oh wait," Karrin says, "I'm really sorry for wasting your time, you don't need to know this stuff. Anyways I guess it doesn't hurt asking. Do you know a squinty white haired fellow by the name of Eliath do you?"
Wow. Either Karrin REALLY trusted this guy. A lot. Or she was a dimmer candle that I had originally thought.
H'lar frowned as Karrin's words spilled out. “I haven't seen this Eliath. I am sorry Karrin.” He paused, perhaps troubled by the looks on Karrin's and Nari's faces.
"Well, you could talk to the factotum running Records and Inprocessing today, Derioch. She's over at Records now I think. Just tell her I sent you over and you should be OK. I'd accompany you, but I am doing lessons for some orphans right now." H'lar indicated the dozen ragged children by his side. They all had a lean, hungry look. And several were eyeing our pouches and my coat pockets.
Seph mewed sadly. Karrin made a face, and then reached into her belt pouch. She pulled out some food. And then some more. Far more than should have fit into a regular pouch. (This was my first observation of Karrin's 'Snack bag'.) She handed the children some bread, cheese, and a couple of apples. "There ya go kids," Karrin said. "We'll go over with you Hlar, whenever you're ready."
The children fell on the proffered rations, eating like a pack of starveling wolves. They called out “Fank Yew Mif!” with full mouths.
H'lar smiled. "Oh no need to wait on me. I've got another few hours with the young'uns. Just go over to Records, ask for Derioch, tell her I sent you over, an' she'll give you the straight chant."
H'lar smiled even wider. (Sort of unsettling, with his looks. And all those teeth.) "Thank you for sharing your rations with the children Karrin. It's hard with all the mouths to feed to get them as much food as we'd like."
I was smiling, lopsidedly I'm pretty sure, at the kids antics. I caught Nari looking at me and quickly replaced it with my raised eyebrow and customary smirk. “What?!” I asked, just a trifle too defensively.
'Methinks someone doth protest too much!' Sang my annoying and usually accurate inner voice.
'Oh,... Shaddap.' I told my inner voice firmly.
Nari smiled tentatively at me. I cleared my throat self-consciously, and turned to H'lar.
“Thanks for your help.” I nodded to the large tiefling, then pulled my hood up higher on my head as I turned to follow Karrin.
I swear I could feel Drazek's smirk on my back.
Turned out that Karrin and Naridre knew about where the records office was. Nari's friend Majeed was hospiced near there. At Records there was a line (Big surprise!) but it really wasn't bad. Before too long we were at the desk with a black clad, bored looking human asking if he could be of assistance.
Karrin, being blessedly brief, said she was looking for Derioch, and made sure to mention H'lar. The man nodded and said he'd fetch her. A few minutes later a middle-aged woman with a scar across her lip dressed in dark-colored robes approached. She looked unhappy, but as far as I could tell, that's fairly par for the course in the Gatehouse.
"I'm Derioch, what can I assist you cutters with?" She asked wearily, but politely.
Karrin glanced at us, then back to Derioch, "Yes, I certainly hope so, we're looking for a fellow by the name Eliath and Hlar said you were the one to speak too."
Derioch frowned. "I assume he was barmy? I can research his name, see if we have any info on his whereabouts..." She trailed off, then looked about sharply and leaned in closer. "Can I ask you a question? Did he disappear unexpectedly?" She asked in a near-whisper.
Karrin nodded, leaning in herself. "I think so, what we don't know is if it was of his own choosing or not."
Derioch turned and called over her shoulder, “I'm taking a break cutters. Be back in a trice.” She came from behind the counter to join us. The scar on her face made it look like she was grinning on one side, but the other side was pulled down in a permafrown. She asked Karrin if we had time to talk privately, in a whisper we could barely hear. Clearly she did not want anyone overhearing.
Karrin picked Seph from her shoulder and held him in her arms, scratching his head. “You bet.” She said to the cat. “Anywhere you want to go.” Seph batted Karrin's fingers, indicating she should continue the head-scratching.
Derioch nodded. "Let's take a walk in the courtyard out back. Follow me."
Derioch lead our group down through a hallway that opens out to a nicely-kept multi-acre courtyard wedged between two wings of the Gatehouse. Seeing orchards of fruit trees and sweeping vegetable plots in the heart of the Hive was a shock. Residents in cheap burlap johnnies and old clothing tended the vegetables and fruit trees under the direction of supervisors in dark-hued clothing. Derioch lead us to a sheltered grape arbor and sat on a stone bench. After brief introductions, she got right down to business.
"I wanted to rattle me bonebox at yeh because I've lately been tasked with summat of grave import to my faction," Derioch began. "For the past few months, a lot of barmies in the Madhouse district, an' as far as I can find, all over the Hive have turned up penned in the dead book. Naturally, we don't like bashers wot scragg defenseless folk. A leatherhead wot preys on the weak is the lowest form of slaad sucker in me book."
Derioch paused, obviously upset. "Unfortunately we've been rolling snake-eyes when it comes to finding whoever likes killing barmies. So I'm going to offer yeh a deal."
Derioch leaned closer. "I'll do all I can wif me lads ta see if we can find your Eliath, an' you keep an' eye on the streets for anyone wot looks out of place bangin' around the Hive. You find any chant or darks, yeh come lookin' fer me. I'll leave word at the Records office they're to track me down if yeh come back. Fair deal?"
I was pretending to be interested in the activities of the orchard-tenders as Derioch spoke. Since our new friend seemed somewhat nervous. (which I thought unusual in one's own 'home turf' so to speak) I looked around for anyone taking an unusual interest in our chat. No one was paying us the slightest bit of attention. There wasn't even anyone near enough to try and hear what we were talking about. Derioch had picked the perfect location to hold a private conversation.
I looked at the others. Nari's eyes were wide, Drazek and Bethany looked bored, and Karrin looked pensive.
I didn't want to usurp Karrin's 'authority', and I wasn't sure how Renkar feelt about his crew accepting side-jobs, but this is the kind of thing that caught my interest lately. And what can I say? I've recently developed a real soft spot for those unable to defend themselves.
I smiled at the woman as if she had just told an amusing story. I replied casually, "We'd appreciate any help you can give us. Between all of us, I think we know a fair number of people. If we hear of anything, unusual, I'll be glad to let you know." I said with a friendly smile.
I turned to Karrin with the same smile and a look that said, 'agree with me, please?'
Karrin straightened and nodded emphatically.
Derioch sighed. "That's alls I can ask of yeh. I'll have me lads on the lookout for yer friend as well. Do yeh have a description of him?"
I smiled warmly at Derioch. "All we can do is our best. Thank you for your help. Elias is tallish, human. Grey haired. Last seen in the Hive wearing blue robes and acting,... well, not himself. Which is why we decided to check here."
Derioch nodded, said she had to close up her office, and escorted us out. We wound back up at the Gatehouse courtyard. There were fewer folks left in the courtyard, but those brave enough to walk the Hive at this hour were queued up for some black bread and beans at the soup line.
I thanked Derioch as she departed. Then pulled up the hood of my coat with a shiver at the chill that always seems to come rushing along the wheel with the darkness.
"Anybody else heard anything about what Derioch mentioned? “ I asked the others. “People disappearing I mean? I know that there is a certain amount of unsolved disappearances in any large, 'civilized', area. But if it's happening frequently enough to bother someone who works with the poor and deals with it every day, it may be worth checking out."
I looked at the others, my dark eyes shining from beneath my hood. "One or two 'barmies' disappearing or getting killed outright I can accept as coincidental, even if I don't like it. But it happening on a scale large enough to bother a long-term charity-worker? Something stinks. And it isn't just the Hive." I decided firmly.
"I don't like it," Karrin said, without a doubt talking about the possible murderer, "And I don't care what Renkar says, we're going to investigate it. But for now we'll have to return and report what we've found . . . which is nothing I guess. I hate loosing. Let's just hope the others came up with nothing as well.”
"Let's get going," Karrin said, "Everyone stay sharp."
Seph meowled his approval from his perch on Karrin's shoulder.
Bethany asked, "Is it normal for us to accept side jobs while on missions? You mentioned that you don't care what Renkar says, which makes me think no. I obviously don't mind extra if they will get us more coin, but if it will impact on my employment with Renkar then I'm not sure it is a wise decision."
Karrin just looked back with a furrowed brow. And, apparently not having an answer, led the way.
Also not having an answer, I followed. I cast a wary eye over the swiftly growing shadows that seemed to be deeper and more oppressive than the last time I walked the Hive.
Then we heard the scream,...
Heh. Great stuff!
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I think I finally have this edited alright.
Mainly I'm just too tired to keep my eyes over anymore.
;P
And now for your reading (hopefully) Pleasure,...
Justin's Story- Chapter 4- Part 2
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Justin's Story, Chapter 4, Part 2
(Thread pages 68-71)
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The 'daylight' (It can't be SUN light, seeing as there's no bloody SUN here!) had faded while we were talking to Derioch. We descended Bedlam Run towards the Zaddfum Trestle. As we passed by the narrow, crowded, crooked tenements for that fog-wrapped bridge, a voice echoed out from the rainy darkness:
"Pazuzu, Orcus, Graz'zt, Demogorg --- URK! Gerrof me! The shadows—AAAHHHH!!”
The voice, which had started out kind of high-pitched and nervous giggly, suddenly ended with a screech.
My head whipped around at the sound of the voice suddenly cutting off. For a heartbeat we were all frozen, exchanging wide-eyed, open-mouthed surprised looks with each other like a school of Interplanar goldfish. Then I turned and ran in the direction of the shout, the others hot on my coattails.
My long legs ate up the ground as I made a gesture with my right arm. In a flash there were four balls of eldritch light, each glowing as bright as a normal torch. (Courtesy of my magic Varisian Clan Tattoo, covering most of my right arm.) I pointed forward with a mental command, and 3 of the balls of light went whizzing ahead of me, the last staying above my head to illuminate my path.
From beside me, I saw Drazek focus as he ran, muttering something as he made a weird gesture with his hands. (It wasn't a typical spell-gesture.) A sense of wrongness coalesced around him for a moment, as if reality were just violated.
Whatever he did wasn't even aimed at me, and I felt violated. I hate warlocks. (Nothing personal Draz.)
Bethany, Drazek, Naridre, Karrin with Seph on her shoulder and I all race forward. I was able to tell that the scream came from down a narrow, nameless alleyway a few blocks down. With I and my magic illumination in advance, Bethany flying above and the others following, we spotted a corpse sprawled in the fetid muck of the alley.
Our erstwhile victim was a ginger-haired pale freckled man, wearing a ragged brown vest and trousers. His tight pale red kinky hair spread out from his head. He appeared to be, as the locals so quaintly put it, 'Inked fully in the dead book'.
And there wasn't a mark on him. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.
"Why is it my work always seems to involve an ungods-ly amount of running?" I griped, panting as we splashed to a stop in the odorous scum of the alley. I arched an eyebrow at the corpse in surprise.
"He looks familiar. Didn't we see him on our way into the Ward when we first got here?" I asked the others. I quickly looked around, and with a thought sent two of my spheres of enchanted light bobbing further down the alley. They illuminated nothing besides a couple of rats, and some Xaos graffiti.
"I thought I heard him scream 'shadows', keep an eye out,..." I said as I looked around. Again. Drazek scanned the rooftops, his eyes glowing faintly. Nari pulled out her small bow and did,... something, and her eyes actually flashed with light for a moment. Bethany circled and landed on an eave above us. Karrin stood there, fists on her hips, silently daring whoever did this to attack her, too.
Apparently 'whoever' wasn't all that stupid. Nothing happened.
When I was satisfied that nothing was waiting to pounce on us, (Particularly me!) I bent down to examine the body.
The corpse was cooling rapidly in the fetid muck. There was no sign of blood or a wound, but he wasn't breathing, and he was turning that particular shade of grey that dead people do. Other than that he looked as if he was sleeping off a drunk.
"There's nothing hostile currently present. What are we supposed to do now? Something killed him, and it terrified him while it was happening. There are ways to frighten someone to death. Is it possible that's what happened here?" Nari spoke up. I mean, she spoke aloud, where we could hear her. Her voice was calm and her words were low, but firm and clear, not whispered or stuttering.
I glanced up, Nari was holding herself alert, and not cowering at all. I discovered she is taller than I had realized, since she was usually trying so hard to make herself look small. Her amber eyes continued to scan the area carefully.
"There ain't no magic on the rooftops or in the alley," Drazek said turning, I suspect, just so we could see the glow behind his eyes. "Might be a witness though, Bethany cover me will ya doll?"
Drazek walked towards the side of one of the alley's buildings, and to everyone's surprise walked up along it's side without breaking stride, looking for open windows or any other indication of an onlooker.
"Showoff." I muttered. I'm pretty sure my smirk belied the harshness of the word.
Bethany nodded and reached behind her head, pulling a large strangely cut bow from inside of the obviously too small quiver at her back. The bow itself was made from a polished, dark purplish brown wood and appeared to have two additional larger grips on either side of the smaller normal grip. She then proceeded to pull an arrow from the same, apparently not so empty, quiver and nock it. She used this to cover Drazek's ascent up the building.
"I heard him mention the Winged Lord. I know that he is wont to strike down those he deems unworthy, but to do so to a mud... landbound being is almost unheard of." Bethany called to us as she observed Drazek's vertical march.
I filed that bit of information away as I turned back and continued my examination of the body, talking aloud for the benefit of the others.
"No obvious wounds. Not even signs of strangulation. Unusual in that even the most subtle of spells leave at least tell-tale marks. As do life-draining undead."
I looked up with a thoughtfully furrowed brow. (and, I'm told, my customary smirk.)
"I've heard of people being frightened to death. But I've never actually seen it.” I told Nari. (The way she looked me directly in the eyes after playing shy all day was positively unsettling.) “ I imagine it's actually very hard to do. And I've seen some things that scared the ,... well, they were scary." I finished with a self-conscious cough. I patted the man's clothes, looking for items he might be carrying.
I was looking for papers, but not really expecting to find anything. In this, at least, I was not disappointed.
"Though I have heard of one or two spells that might be able to do it. But they're very powerful. Not something a street thug or even a casual caster would be able to control." I continued talking.
I stood up from the body and took another glance around. I was nervous, and frustrated.
"I'm guessing that being found over a corpse isn't usually a good thing? Even in this neighborhood? We should probably beat feet before the guards arrive. Assuming they DO arrive in this district. But if you think we can afford to wait just a bit, I'd like to try and see if there is residual magic on the body. I'll need about a minute. Can we risk it?" I asked Karrin.
"If we can spare the time, we should let Justin make sure if it was magic. Even if it wasn't magic, it would be helpful to eliminate a possibility." Nari interjected, in her newly-strong and confident voice.
Karrin looked at the body over my shoulder, and then to her team mates.
"Do whatever you need to do Justin," Karrin said, "but let's make it quick. I don't want the hardheads finding us picking over the body. I'm going to keep watch, if I see a hardhead I'll have to wave him down, but I'll keep anyone else out."
Karrin quickly ran to the mouth of the alleyway and began scanning the streets.
I nodded in reply as I chanted a few words softly. This was one of the simplest charms I knew, one of the first I taught myself in fact. It was easy, requiring only concentration to work properly. I knew my eyes began to shine faintly with a silvery radiance, hiding the iris. I held out my hand, directing my focus of the charm. It probably made me look as if I had problems with my depth perception.
"I can always cut it short if we have too. But I really want to know what killed him. Hang on a minute,..." I muttered, staring at the corpse by my feet.
After a few moments, I began to see the tell-tale glow of residual magic on the corpse.
“Ah,... THERE you are!” I almost sighed. “Now, what are you?” I focused my attention on the residual energy, trying to identify it. It shouldn't have been difficult.
For you non-magikers out there, All magic leaves a trace of itself behind, whether harmful or benign. Fireball or healing spell. The more powerful the spell, the stronger the trace, the longer it lasts, and the easier it is to identify. Usually at least. Normally it's just a matter of time. You study the residual energy long enough to identify it's school of origin by it's 'color'. (For me. Some wizards say it's sound, smell, or even taste for them. Necromancy must be a blast to identify by taste. Yecch) Study it long enough, and become experienced enough, and you can identify what spell it was. Any magic spell strong enough to kill a man before he could finish screaming should have left a huge amount of residual energy behind. The equivalent of a large, magically glowing sign above a Calistrian confessional. This was more like finding a firefly in your beer.
Staring at the body and it's evasive magical trace, I heard the sound of someone unlimbering a large weapon. (When your a wizard, that is a very disturbing sound.) Followed by the sound of Karrin's cheerful voice,
"Evening boys," she snarled, happily. “You seen any hardheads around here?"
I heard muttering, the creak of leather armor and the metallic clank of weapons. I maintained my focus on the body.
Someone growled in a rough voice,
"Doing here are berks what you? Turf is Xaos this. Trespass don't berks what like we."
A different voice, this one sounded slimy, hissed,
"Mordrigaarz says I 'em we cuts ." And I heard another long metallic rasp.
I physically winced at the exchange, almost losing my concentration.
'It's bad enough that no one in this entire stinkin' dimension can speak basic common. But then they have to go and mutilate what little they DO speak. It's enough to make a grown mage cry.
From the corner of my eye I saw Nari tense and move a few steps past me, towards the mouth of the alley. She didn't act like she was looking for a place to hide anymore.
The tension behind me was becoming physically palpable. From out of it I heard Karrin,... laugh.
"Oh that's precious, I suppose that gets local Yokels quaking in their boots, but save it for the ladies. I know what the most dangerous thing is in this alley, and I'm not in the mood to humor ya. I'm a mercenary. I hurt and kill people for a living, I ain't some hobbyist, but lucky for you I don't like killing without any jink. That's not to say I won't, don't get me wrong, I love my job, I mean that's why I called you over, watching this alley is boring, but I ain't moving till my team's finished looking over that body back there. Now we can play this posing game, you can make a move, or maybe we can do something constructive: You say this is your turf? Maybe you boys know something useful. You know anything about the dead barmies or this shadow killer? I mean someone's hunting crazies on your turf. Me and my team are looking for this cutter."
Well, THAT took some of the wind out of their sails. I managed to maintain my concentration, but it was hard not to cheer. I heard more shuffling, and the first voice, their leader I supposed, spoke again in, slightly, more comprehensible speech.
"We knows someone is hunting barmies. We're here to teach them a lesson about poaching on our turf. Who's to say you're not the one putting them in the dead book? I want to see the deader, all you berks just back off."
The second, slimy voice hissed again,
"Trick it's Mordrigaarz a! Laugh you giving they're the !"
AND with that, my concentration simply popped like a soap bubble. Any chance I had of identifying it in a timely manner was now gone. And it didn't sound like these guys were going to give me another few minutes to try again. I growled and raised my head skyward in frustration.
"Sunuvamurglak. Would it Kill them to speak common?!?" I grumbled as I rose from over the body.
"And they're making enough racket to wake the dead. And we have quite enough of those around already!" I complained loudly as I stalked angrily towards the alley mouth and the source of my irritation. My spheres of eldritch light turned a more reddish color in response to my temper as I came up behind Karrin. Just in time to see her turn into a giant.
Yep. In a heartbeat Karrin went from less than five and a half feet to just over ten feet tall. Seph, still perched on Karrin's shoulder, let out a large "Mreeeowww!" as he found himself suddenly a good 10 feet off the ground.
I later discovered that she had a magic item, a belt, that lets her grow as if I had cast a growth spell on her. She bellowed at Mr Slimy-voice.
"You think I'm fooling you Bert!" She roared as she towered over the gang, she easily lifted her now giant axe over her head with one hand and pointing with her spiked gauntlet, "Just make a move chuckles so Ferissirion can consume your soul!!"
"What's up Karrin? You find me some more volunteers for my toad-transformation spell?" I asked sweetly as I stepped up beside her.
I couldn't help it. The smart-@$$ery was already engaged. It just came out, honest.
Suddenly, the Xaos boys were a lot less aggressive. Mr Slimy-Voice, apparently their lieutenant, (Even grungier and more unpleasant looking than the rest, with a rusty metal mask covering his face and long, rusty blades attached to his gauntlets), hissed and scuttled back to the dubious-safety of the rest of his gang.
Seeing the lieutenant back down, Karrin turned to the gang leader, a large, burly fellow who looked like he enjoyed a good scrap, but had a gleam of intelligence in his eyes.
"You can peep after my boy is finished looking him over," Karrin said using a more conciliatory voice, (Loud, from being the currently biggest thing in the Hive, but conciliatory.)
"Someone magic-ed him up good, no marks, no nothing. But we got a couple spell slingers and they're using their stuff to have a look, and that takes time. It's dark magic I'll guess. Powerful stuff. I think it's necromancy or maybe the work of some dark cult. Not much kills without leaving a mark. You know anything we'd appreciate it. You don't want something hunting on your grounds and we need this thing taken down for favors. We work together and we cover more ground. We got no reason to make any claims on the kill either, far as I'm concerned this can be all your work."
The leader approached, hands out in a peaceful gesture. He was trying hard not to look intimidated. He was doing pretty well for a guy who was looking UP at a woman who could now step on him.
"Right. You're a hende lot of bloods. No worries. We're looking, just like you. We don't like leatherheads what think they can bash our barmies for sport. Now you want to look at the deader, go ahead. Could I take a look? No crosstrading, Lady's Honor."
He came a bit closer, after gesturing the others to stay back.
"I'm Mordrigaarz. I keep an eye out for my faction in this area, when I feels like it."
He put a big paw out for Karrin to shake.
Karrin kept her massive size but switched her axe over to her mitt hand and rested her axe on her shoulder.
"Karrin Kind," Karrin said as she extended her own hand. I got the impression that she wasn't holding back on the grip. And neither was Mordigaarz. He was just shy of seven feet himself, and built like a brick shipyard.
"We want this leatherhead taken down Mordrigaarz, call it charity, and for what it's worth my group's not going to contest your authority here. For one thing you got lots of toughs, we respect that. Second we ain't been paid and their no sense fighting and dying for nothing. You gots honour to protect but we mercenaries need money ta fight. You seem a sharp cutter. Someone we can work with. Go on through, but I'm watching your boys here. No offense, but I don't trust them enough yet not to do something needlessly violent and stupid. I think the teams done looking it over."
Mordigaarz flexed his hand when Karrin released it and nodded in appreciation. He had already sized Karrin up, literally, and I think he had decided he liked the challenge. But he was smart enough not to maybe get his gang killed on account of it.
"You say true an' I say thankya, Karrin. I'll go in by meself, an' if these pack of jackals don't watch their manners you have my permission to flatten them."
I nodded, looking up to Karrin, to let her know I was done. For now. I stepped aside with a tight-lipped smile, and Mordrigaarz entered the alley to inspect the body.
Nari elbowed me. When I glanced at her, she was once again the mousy, timid girl I had met earlier that day. She nodded nervously in the direction of the lieutenant, Mr Rusty-claws, who was busy whispering and muttering to his fellows. I wondered about this sudden change-and-reversal of Nari's personality, but nodded to let her know I had seen the potential troublemaker too.
"Now, Now." I said calmly, pulling out my pipe. (And resisting the urge to lean casually against Karrin's pillar-like leg), "Just because we're not friends doesn't mean we have to be enemies."
I packed my pipe, and lit it with a jet of flame from my finger. All while never taking my eyes off of Mr Rusty-Claws. I puffed contentedly and gave the iron-masked man my best smirk.
Mordigaarz re-emerged from the alley, having examined the body, and called up to Karrin again.
"You folks see any leatherheads scarpering from the scene? This be the sixth unmarked deader we've found in two weeks around our kip here."
The Xaos faction gangleader seemed a tad,... annoyed.
I answered first, as I was right next to him. "No. Didn't see anything. But we did[]/i] hear him shout something about 'Shadows'. Does that mean anything to you? My first guess would be the Dustmen and their, friends. But they usually seem content to let people arrive in their own good time."
I puffed thoughtfully on my pipe, shrugging in an 'it was a thought' way.
"No, nothing from our end, and we got here fast.” Karrin rumbled from on high. “Whatever it is moves like lightning or folds into the shadows . . . we even got eyes in the sky," Karrin said glancing over at the nearby rooftop. "But we saw nothing, we heard nothing either, except that barmie's screams . . . you got anything we can use Mordrigaarz, know anyone we can talk to?"
The gangleader glanced up at Karrin's words, and visibly blanched. I wasn't sure if it was from finding a bow-wielding harpy perched above them, or the sight of Drazek nonchalantly standing horizontal from the side of the building. Even the Iron-masked maniac was silenced (for a moment) by the sight.
Mordrigaarz frowned, turning away from the creepy people perched on rooftops. "I'm it blood. We don't hold with hierarchies in the Xaos faction. I gots as many men as I can hold together, an' these berks are like herding cats. Alls I know is someone's doing for the Hivers, an' that gets me heated."
He looks at Karrin, more curious than suspicious I thought.
"Why do yeh care what happens to some Hiver barmies?"
“Officially, we don't. Unless we're being paid of course." I replied in what I hoped was a cavalier, mercenary attitude. "But I've a got a real problem with anyone who hurts those that can't defend themselves. And if you've found several dead 'barmies' in a week, I'd say that qualifies."
I blew a smoke ring, looking at Mr. Rusty-Claws. "Bullies make me cranky." I muttered. Not loud enough to be a direct challenge,...
Mr Rusty-Claws just stared at me. I think his mask is the only thing that prevented him from [i]actually glaring daggers at me. He finally turned back to his mates and picked up his angry muttering where he had left off.
Karrin smiled. Her small, white pointed teeth were even more disturbing at her current size. "Just because we're mercenaries doesn't mean we can't care about other things besides money. Nobody fits into a neat little package Mordrigaarz. I mean we're not boxes are we?"
Mordrigaarz shrugged. "Alls we know is people in our turf keep turning up in the dead book alla sudden. No one knows nothing, an' if they did they ain't lanning us the darks. The Dustmen ain't got the guts to start pre-killing barmies. They know we'd rip their pretty tomb down around their bony skulls."
Karrin tilted her head, and looked at Mordy curiously. "I should ask though, why do you care? If I believed in stereotypes I'd say gangers don't care about anything besides themselves."
Mordrigaarz frowned, and regained most of his initial award-winning attitude.
"We aint no cony-catching bully boys, berk, don't forget that. This here is our kip, an' we takes care of our own. Lot better than the Hardheads do, anyway. We'll take care of this in our way."
"Now I've been pretty tolerant, 'cuz I knows you are a hende load of bloods, but if you stick around too much more my lads are gonna start wondering if I'm going soft or not. I appreciate the point out on the body, but you gots to go."
I looked up at Karrin, and gave a slight nod. Enough to let her know that I'd done all I could.
I put out my pipe casually, as if not in a hurry. But I made sure to keep a wary eye on our new 'friends'.
Karrin nodded, then began to shrink back to normal-sized. (I swear, I thought I heard Seph go 'Wheee!') "We're moving then," Karrin said, face to face once more. "We're not here to challenge you or stir up trouble. If you you're serious about taking our help dealing with problem we'll need to find some way of sharing info . . ."
Mordy glanced over at his gang, and whispered, "Yeh got any info or wanna talk on this, I hang at Quake's Place in the Hive District." Karrin and I both nodded . Then he straightened up and glared.
“Well? Waitin' fer ingraved what yeh Invite an?” He bellowed.
"Right, you heard the man," Karrin called, "We ain't welcome here, we're moving out! Back ta base!"
"Well, heaven forfend that I should stay someplace I am not welcome." I said in the precisely-pronounced pronunciation of an upper-crust accent. I touched two fingers to my forehead and nodded in a respectful, if brief, salute to the Xaos leader.
Lowering my arm, I paused briefly to point two fingers at Mr. Rusty fingers, and winked. He shot me the tines in return.
For those not well traveled or versed in inter-planar lore, 'The Tines' is a common, vulgar and rude gesture in societies that have dealings with devils and their ilk in particular. It consists of holding up a fist with both pointer and pinkie fingers extended. It is supposed to be reminiscent of the pitchfork-like weapons that devils supposedly enjoy employing so often. With Mr Rusty Claws blade-fingered gauntlet, it was particularly impressive.
I turned back to Karrin and Nari, chucking a thumb over my shoulder at the departing Xaos-ites.
"I think he likes me!" I smirked.
OK, I was having fun. I may have been grinning like the mouse that belled the cat. Just a little.
We walked back retracing our steps, followed above by Bethany and Drazek. The Xaos-ites and we each went out separate ways, watching each other warily, but neither made any moves the other disagreed with. Eventually we lost sight of each other.
All that time, and noise, and I had to wonder, 'Still no sign of the local constabulary. There's a big surprise. I wonder if they even show their faces here after dark. Even in force?' I mean Murphy had told me that there were a few places that the Hardheads weren't welcomed in, and that the Hive was one of them, but I hadn't realized that meant they were absent completely. I filed that tidbit away too. And made a mental note never to visit the Hive again. Alone. Ever.
Our party regrouped and resumed its travel to the Zaddfum Bridge. The Cage was fully in Night mode (Antipeak), and we hurried to traverse the Trench of Stench and skirt the Hellgate District to Ragpicker's Square.
Ragpicker's Square was alive with the cries of the garment sellers, paper sellers, and book dealers. We saw an awful lot of grey-robed Dustmen out and about now that the darkness had claimed Sigil. That reminded me of the others that had gone with Isaac, and I wondered how they had fared.
Passing as quickly as possible through the sulphuric Foundry District, our group entered Swordhold. The press of people was thick, many of them armed and armored, most of them drunk. Must be nice.
I was scanning the crowd, not so much 'exercising my brain' by trying to see where persons were from, as just being my now-usually-paranoid self. In this case it paid off. I spotted Isaac with two other men walking down the other side of the street, about three blocks away, heading back the way we had just come from. I told Karrin, and waved to get Bethany's attention. Bethany looked, saw Isaac, nodded at me, and flew down to intercept as the rest of us tried to fight the crowd and catch up to him.
Bethany circled Isaac, and her proud form landed directly in front of him and his buddies with a cocky smirk on her face. We were close enough to hear the startled exclamation of Issac's pals.
When we caught up, mostly by allowing Karrin to clear a path, we made introductions for Isaac's buddies. Isaac said they hadn't found much so came back early, then he decided to chase down leads at a pub he knows that plays music. He invited Lady Bethany along, thinking she might enjoy it, much to the delight of his companions. Then we told Isaac that we had discovered something that we should probably all talk to Renkar about. So, Isaac made his apologies to his friends, made plans to catch up to to them later, (The night was young,) and we all made out way back through the crowds to the Silver Rose offices.
On the way Isaac told us that his group, after having no luck gathering any thing useful from the pub, had tried the source directly, as it were, and had gone to the Mortuary itself to see if Eliath had turned up there. They were told by a Dustman named Toranna that the Mortuary did, indeed, have a dead barmy that had been identified as 'Eli'. But when they asked to see the body themselves, they were curtly denied and escorted out. Upon discussion they all thought it odd that a homeless, 'barmy' beggar happened to be positively identified when so many others weren't.
We arrived at the Silver Rose offices, and the door was locked. But Karrin did an about-face, took a couple of steps, opened the door to the Copper Cauldron, and ushered us in.
We found Renkar and Hanali inside, along with Merle who was speaking to Swift. At our arrival Merle pounced upon Karrin, retrieving Seph from his shoulder perch, meowling and mewing at him before taking him to the kitchen. Renkar stood at our entrance,
"So our Gatehouse team returns! What did you all find out amongst the Bleak Cabal?"
I unceremoniously plopped my lanky form wearily into a chair. "We stepped in something. And I think it stinks." I replied without thinking, then looked around and tried to manage an almost contrite look.
"Sorry, don't know the protocols yet." I mumbled, raising my hand to indicate Karrin.
Karrin just looked at me sharply, then barked like a drill instructor again,
"Naridre and Drazek report," Karrin ordered, "Naridre, tell us about Derioch's deal, Drazek tell us about our discovery in the alley."
Nari stepped forward, looking at her hands. Her voice was quiet but audible as she spoke. "We arrived at the Gatehouse without incident on the way. A Bleaker that Karrin and I know, by the name of Hlar, directed us to speak with Derioch in Records. We went there and Derioch made a show of going on break in order to speak with us outside in the orchard. Their faction is having trouble solving a mystery. 'Barmies' in the madhouse district and the Hive are being 'penned in the dead book.'"
There was a flash of anger in her eyes as she says this, and her voice grew stronger for a moment, before fading back to its normal near-whisper. "Derioch agreed to help us find information about Elioch in exchange for our help finding out as much as we can about what is hunting people in the Hive." Nari then stepped back and tried to become invisible once more. Karrin nodded.
Renkar nodded, steepling his fingers.
"It is usual to have a little back and forth for information. Thank you. Excellent report Naridre."
"Well, if we are advancing to a murder rather than a missing person, I should probably notify Mr. Ironfist tomorrow. I'm sure he'll want confirmation one way or another. If you want, you can meet with him in the Before Peak when I talk to him."
Drazek raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side at Karrin's command. He stared at her silently, trying to get her to blink. She finally did, But I think it was because she was confused why he wasn't talking, not because she couldn't have beat him. Drazek took a swig from a flask when she did blink. Chuckling to himself he turned to Renkar.
"Wasn't any magic 'cept what Justin there found on the corpse. No one on the roofs, and if there was a witness, he sure as h@ll hauled a$$ right quick. We're dealin' with somebody who works quick and clean, a pro."
I leaned forward, "There was a magic resonance still on the body when we found it. But no marks. It was unusually difficult to ID, but I'd say it was either Necromancy, or a Mind-affecting Enchantment. Which is odd, because normally those two types of magic are very easy to tell apart. Either way, I'd guess we're looking at a spell I've never seen in action. But I thought I heard the guy screaming about 'shadows' before we found him." I explained.
"He was screaming in terror. I believe that he did mention shadows," Naridre piped up, then did her best to fade back into the background.
Bethany ruffled her wings, drawing eyes towards her. (Particularly Drazek's) "I also clearly heard him call out the name of the Winged Lord. I think he mentioned some other names as well, but I have no idea who or what they are."
I vaguely recalled something about a 'Pazuzu' being some sort of Avian-Winged-Demon-Lord. I presumed this was whom Bethany was referring to. I also made sure to put traveling to Bethany's home world on my 'only if I must' list.
"It was, 'Pazuzu, Orcus, Graz'zt, Demogorgorgon.' Although the last was interrupted by his scream. All lords of one layer of H@ll or another, if I'm not mistaken?” I supplied helpfully. (I'm a wizard. I read.)
"Oh, and also we might have gained the help of an Xaos gang leader,” Karrin said cheerfully. “Goes by the name of Mordrigaarz. He seems to want to catch this killer as well. His group of toughs showed up almost as soon as we found the body but we were able to convince them that we weren't worth fighting with! Anyways he seemed to warm up to us, but his gang didn't seem as impressed, so we might get support from him but I wouldn't trust any them any further than I could throw them."
I figured Karrin likely could actually throw a couple of the gang members. At the same time. She clearly was speaking figuratively.
Isaac perked up, "Shadows, you say? Well, that would explain dying without a mark on him. So we have a few ideas: could be the shadows or a shadow fiend are preying on the barmies for... sustenance or something or just out of spite. They're perfect targets: only the Bleakers care about 'em, and they've got their hands full most of the time when they aren't going barmy themselves. The other possibility is some powerful wizard or cleric that could summon something to do the deed for them."
Isaac looked at me and Merle, who had returned from the kitchen with a plate of scraps for Seph. "Would that leave anything behind for you bloods to see? I still think our best lead may well be to work on Toranna, the Dustman in charge of what the Collectors take in. Bloody convenient that she'd have a quick answer for us like that, what with all the deaders coming in off the streets. And, you know, the more I think about it, the stranger it is. It's easy enough to stab a berk in the back: assuming it's not free-willed shades of some sort, why go to all the trouble of using all that magic? Especially on a large number of barmies. If you want my gut reaction, someone wants the bodies whole or they're trying to send a message to the Bleakers."
I shrugged my shoulders, "Well, whatever it was did leave a signature. I just couldn't tell, exactly, what it was. Your Dustman lead seems like the best to me so far. It is odd that a dead guy pulled from an alley would be so easily and completely identified. As for the rest, even shades. shadows and specters leave marks when they attack. Not big gaping wounds like a sword, but marks that can be seen. This guy was untouched."
I sat back and rubbed my temples. I like a good mystery, but this one was already giving me a headache. "Message to the Bleakers? For what purpose? From what I'm told the Bleakers don't have anything that anybody wants! Wait,... “ I quickly sat up straight, my head ache forgotten. “What did you say? 'Someone wants the bodies'?"
I stroked my stubbled face in a gesture reminiscent of my old favorite professor. I needed to grow a beard. No. A goatee. I already had a good start for it.
"OK. I don't like making up theories without facts, it makes it too easy to miss the real clues when you find them, but what if,... What IF it IS the bodies that they were after? Knocking off crazy people who live in alleys is a good way to acquire several bodies quickly without raising too much notice or suspicion. Especially in the hive. They want the bodies intact, so they use a spell that kills but leaves the bodies untouched. Just because I don't recognize the spell doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It just means I haven't come across it yet."
"So,... they send a killer-spell to knock off people not likely to be missed, but then why leave the body? Unless you KNOW the body will come to you anyway,... the deadheads? Your Dustman suspicion suddenly looks more promising." I said with a raised eyebrow at Issac.
Isaac smiled almost kindly. "Well, mate, I wouldn't go thinking the Bleakers don't have anything someone wants. I heard a berk once say that genius and madness are two sides of the same coin; with enough barmies you're bound to have a few coves worth their salt. There could be all kinds of reasons or vendettas. If they've got a spot in the House of Speakers, they've got political clout, allies and enemies. Including the Godsmen. That's how power's divided: factions perform a service in Sigil, they get a voice in the Hall of Speakers to decide how to run things. Taking care of the dead and the barmy or policing the streets, running the courts; it's all the same. They do a job, their beliefs draw enough members, they have power. But you're right; Toranna is the most concrete lead we have right now." He agreed.
Renkar looked thoughtful, nodding but offering no comment to our discussion. (He HAD hired us for this sort of thing after all, I suppose.)
"Well it seems as if you have had a fruitful first day in the Hive. I would say you have earned some rest. I am going to arrange for Mr. Ironfist to come for a meeting next Peak, if any of you wish to speak with him. For now, get some rest, we can hit the Hive again tomorrow after we talk with our patron."
Renkar ordered another ale, and told the Copper's owner that he would cover dinner.
My stomach growled once more. "Right on cue." I muttered with a wry grin. I raised my hand to get Ramona's attention, and ordered a large meal which I enjoyed with gusto.
Karrin ordered 'her usual', and told Isaac if he didn't mind waiting she would like to go to Caritas (the aforementioned musical pub Isaac and friends had been heading for when we spotted them.) Karrin's 'usual' turned out to be the equivalent of 4 or 5 (or maybe 6) meals. And she ate it. All. I have NO idea where that tiny tiefling managed to put all that food.
Over dinner, I noticed that Seph had exceptionally good manners for a kitten. I got the impression that if he had thumbs he would have been using silverware.
Renkar chatted with us as we ate, gathering details and information, and told us he would meet us at the Silver Rose with the client at noon, er, 'Peak'. Most of the others all decided to go to Caritas with Isaac, both for entertainment and possible info-digging, with Swift and Merle opting to stay behind to run 'errands'. I got the impression it was going to be a different kind of 'girls night out'. Swift looked like she had places to go and things to do. I felt sorry for the guy. Or at least for the guy who got in her way.
I patted my full belly and thanked Ramona with a wink. I was in no danger of beating Karrin's plate-cleaning record, but I had eaten more than any of the others. (In my defense, I HAD skipped breakfast AND lunch that day!) I decided to join the group going to Caritas. I hadn't gotten to get out much since trying to make a living in this crazy circular city. And traveling with a large, well-armed and,... interesting,... group like this would be safer. And interesting.
Another home run!
Glad you like it!
:)
This is my mental exercise in writing, editing, dialogue, etc. Trying to get my brain back up to it's previous activity levels. (I need to do that to my body too!) :/
(The fact that I get a reason to re-read all of our old adventures is strictly a bonus!) ;)
The next update will take a while, between work, traveling to visit family in Oklahoma next week, and taking my kids to Space Camp the following week, (During that week will also be the closest thing my wife and I will get to an 20th anniversary/2nd honeymoon time together) ;)
Yeah,... sorry, the night out update (And possibly more) will likely take a couple of weeks. :)
Maybe I'll try to do smaller chunks. Yeah, 'bite-sized' journal entries!
;P
No worries. I'm going to be busy coming up with some new stories myself
Yeah I saw that!
Very cool, can't wait to see it!
:)
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LOL
Glad you are enjoying it Flash!
Yeah, I try to find a stopping point for each chapter once I hit 20 or so pages. But that is WITH spacing. :/
Ergo some pages are very detailed, and some are more summarized.
Again, just SO much good stuff by all, I don't want to edit ANYthing out!
:)
Oh never fear, Justin has opinions on everything. Right or Wrong. ;P
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Thank you for your patience!
It has (at long last) paid off!
ENJOY!
I present, The return of:
Justin's Story-A Silver Rose Adventure
Chapter 5 (Part 1)
A Night on the Town
EDIT- So apparently 26 spaced pages is TOO much for the system to handle, I'll have to edit it into 2 parts
Justin's Story Chapter 5
A Night on the Town - Part 1
(Chronicle Pages 71-75)
So, I'm sure you've heard that you can find out a lot about people by hanging around them outside of the usual 'work' situation. You get to see how they act when not 'On the hourglass', while having a drink and their guard is down, or at least not expected to be professional. To that I'd like to add that you can tell a lot about a person from their singing. Not MY singing of course. I mean, I love a good bawdy tune as much as the next wizard. But having never actually practiced singing as an art, I'm in no danger of winning any contests. (Although, I have had some summoned beings tell me that I have a very nice conjuring voice.)
More importantly, you can tell a lot about a person by how OTHERS react to their singing. And I'm getting ahead of myself again.
So, After meeting up with the Boss at the Copper Cauldron and explaining to him our findings, the evening was still young, but too late to check out our meager leads that night. Renkar told us he would arrange a meeting with our client the next day, and invited us to attend in case we thought of any other questions to ask him that might shed light on this unusual case.
Isaac had decided to go out and re-join his work buddies at Caritas, a bar known for it's patron's non-professional singing performances. It being such a popular night spot, he was hoping to ask around on possible leads as well. He had invited Bethany along thinking it was a place that she might enjoy. She had accepted, and seemed to be excited at the prospect. Drazek seemed inclined to go. Although he had not actually said anything, the way his eyes rarely left the Harpy's form indicated he would likely go wherever she did this night. (I was right, by the way.) To be fair, the warlock kept eyeing all of us from time to time. I think he was trying to figure us out. I had told Isaac I was in. I was looking forward to seeing a new place that I (Hopefully) didn't have to keep eyes in the back of my head to enjoy. Merle and Swift indicated that they had made plans for a 'girls night out'. (I didn't know whether to feel envy, or regret, for any guy that might be involved.)
<Note scribbled in margin- And I still don't know>
Nari also decided to stay behind. (Not totally surprising considering her usual hope-no-one-notices-me way she she had acted most of the day.) That left Karrin, who finished polishing off her meal, the equivalent of 5 or 6 platefuls to the rest of our 1 each. (OK, I had 2. I HAD skipped breakfast AND lunch that day.) She complimented Ramona on the food, then pronounced that she was ready to go as well.
"This place have a no weapons policy or anything? Cuz if they do I'll leave my weapons here." Karrin asked. The way she handled her magic axe made it obvious that she would do so only reluctantly.
Isaac shrugged. "Eh, not as far as I know. The Alley of Dangerous Angles isn't in the Hive, but that doesn't mean it ain't dangerous, right? I'd at least keep a knife or a short sword handy. Caritas caters to fiends and other natives of the Outer Planes as much as factioners and regular berks like you 'n me. Can't very well take a tanar'ri's claws away or a baatezu's silver tongue can you?"
Knowing this, I felt comforted by the weight of the cold-iron longsword at my hip. More so knowing that my true weapon, my magic, would be very difficult to forbid me. (Not at all impossible I have learned since then, but still difficult.) Isaac finished his drink, and stifled a burp.
"From your story, Karrin, it seems like you can make the call yourself whether you want to use that weapon or not, so it's up to you."
So Bethany, Drazek, Karrin and myself all followed Isaac out the door. Karrin's axe firmly planted on her attractive, armored shoulder. Karrin tossed a wave to Nari as she exited.
Heading out onto Copperman Way, we saw the late Before Antipeak crowd heading off in every direction along the wide street.
We set out following Isaac's lead as he meandered expertly through the crowds. And found us nearly retracing our steps from earlier that day. As we walked and occasionally chatted, I watched the crowds and streets. Doing so had saved me more than once since arriving in Sigil. And I had gotten pretty good at it. I saw no reason to stop now. I'm sorry to say that I followed the others through the myriad mazes of the streets of Sigil in a silence that would be considered a funk, or brooding if I had actually been frowning. I was thinking about our discovery of the dead 'barmy' earlier, and it was still bugging me.
Several leather-clad drow groups were about, and Githyanki also seemed to be popular on the street as well. The yellow-skinned humanoids dressed in silvery armor and loose-flowing silks, their sunken eyes filled with disdain as they picked their way along the street.
Eventually Copperman Way entered the Lady's Ward, ending in Memorial Plaza with its statue commemorating the Great Plague. A small taproom named The Square Bar spilled warm yellow light from a partially open door. From the look of the many red-armored 'cutters' inside it is a 'Hardhead' hangout. I tried to see if I could catch a glimpse of an armored Halfling as we passed, but if Murphy was in there I couldn't see her by the door.
The traffic split and descended towards the many mansions that begin to line the streets as the Nobles' District embraced them. Hiddleton was a wide street clear of razorvine that lead us into the Court District. At this time of evening there wasn't much going on but humanoids walking to other venues and 'Hardhead' patrols heading out to other wards from the City Barracks. Dabus floated up and down building walls, patching and cutting razorvine. Their queer visual language glyphs shone above their heads as they worked, flashing in a bright-colored blur.
The Court District turned into the Temple District. Heading down Bloodgem Road I saw some sort of evening service going on at Garl Glittergold's temple. A crowd of gnomes in costumes and masks sipped drinks and chatted on the temple steps while enthusiastic music leaked out from the open temple doorways.
Heading through Bloodgem Park, Isaac led us into Swordhold. Here the crowds began to swell, the many taverns and bawdy houses catering to the workers and mercenaries of the Lower Ward attracting crowds that evening. We hurried on, getting a glimpse of several brawls and once what looked like a battle between a pair of beholders down a dark alleyway. Wisdom beat curiosity that time, and I quickly kept pace with the others.
The many sulfurous smokestacks of the Great Foundry belched yellow smoke into the dark air, wrapping the blackened buildings nearby in a shroud of smog. There were no crowds of revelers here, only workers hauling carts of supplies between buildings. Instead of music there was a clang of hammers on anvils and the hiss of molten steel. Isaac was smiling as we passed through.
Exiting the Foundry District, the group headed down into the Gear Run District. The crowds returned somewhat, with a lot of cutters: Gnomish, human and construct, many wearing leather aprons and sporting odd tools fastened to their bodies. I made some quick basic sketches as we walked. I had a budding curiosity in constructs, and these were not 'standard' models.
Along the end of Gear Street, the shops of arcane esoterica dwindled, being replaced by tenements of a distinctly mephitic air. Just before Gear Run turns into Hellgate, a small street called Pylean Court branches off Gear Street just as it turns into the Alley of Dangerous Angles.
On the corner of Pylean Court is a building housing several businesses. A narrow stairwell leads downwards with a sign reading:
Caritas
Isaac stopped, indicating the sign. "Ah, here we are, comrades. Don't look like much from out here, but it's a fine place all the same. Word of warning if you're new to Sigil, though: careful about heckling the 'musical talent'. Powers are the only thing not allowed entrance to the city and even a powerful archmage might very well be a poor amateur troubadour."
“Why would anyone heckle the musical talent?” Karrin wondered softly aloud. “That would just be rude.”
I wondered if she realized she was speaking aloud. I certainly didn't have any room to talk. Compared to the amount of people I used to have around me before I arrived in Sigil, I was currently living like a hermit. Since arriving, I have been known to talk to my furniture on occasion. Once or twice.
"I shall take your advice under advisement. Although if you've ever heard a 400 pound Derhii attempt to sing then you should be prepared for just about anything..." Bethany proclaimed proudly as she followed Isaac down the stairs with a sort of half jump and onto the landing below. The maneuver made her thin slip perform it's own interesting acrobatics. "Landlings and their stairs," she muttered.
Isaac raised an eyebrow as he held open the outside door for Bethany.
"Can't say I've ever heard a 400 pound Derhii try to sing. Nor have I ever seen (or been) a Derhii, much less a 400 pound one. What are they? Something from your homeland?"
"They are from the Nation of Silvermist and are from my homeworld." Bethany confirmed. She went on to describe what some of you may know as a Gorilla, but with huge feathered wings and the ability to talk and wield usually massive two-handed weapons. I re-confirmed Bethany's home world was on my 'only to be visited if absolutely required' list.
The half-elf whistled. "I reckon that's quite a sight, cutter. Can't say I've seen any round here: maybe one'll perform tonight, eh?" Isaac smiled.
The group descended the stairs and entered through the bar's open door. A bouncer with a few demons in his pedigree gave us the once over. He nodded at Issac, recognizing him. Issac told us later that “The cutter's name is Polorus, not a bad basher for a tiefling with two heads.” His secondary head was ophidian-looking with an elongated neck. His primary one wasn't too pretty either. That one featured ram horns, bat ears and a wolfish snout.
"Wotcher Issac, ain't seen yeh for a bit. Yer cronies are over there." Polorus said. ('Rumbled' might be more accurate.) The snake head regarded the group unblinkingly. He pointed a clawed hand over towards the stage where Issac's friends Hergik and Jak were seated at a large table.
Isaac nodded to Polorus with a grin of his own. "Aye, it's been a spell Polorus. Been neglecting my 'patron of the arts' title for my 'patron of the taps' one. Good to see you."
The bar was filled tonight, and the strains of some off key singing echoed off the walls as a long-nosed elf in sorcerer's robes attempted to sing a popular ballad, 'The Lower Ward Shuffle'.
"Go awn in, plenty of seats, the real talent ain't been up yet," Polorus says with a pointy-toothed grin.
It was meant to be pleasant I'm sure, but that mouthful of razor-sharp teeth was positively unnerving.
"Jest keep yer head. Lotsa factions in here today." The bouncer said as the rest of us filed dutifully past him. I'm fairly certain that was a polite warning to the rest of us, not Issac, seeing as he was looking at Karrin's crystal axe.
Isaac lead the way to Hergik and Jak's table. "H'lo boys. You've already met Lady Bethany; this is Karrin, Justin and Drazek. What'd we miss?"
Hergik and Jak grinned as we took seats around the table.
"Not sodding much. You were lucky, this big trollish looking cutter played the bagpipes earlier."
Jak made a face. Hergik punched him playfully on the arm.
Everyone said their hellos and sat down. A waitress dressed in a fairly revealing costume and sporting demure horns on her forehead wandered up to take orders. I asked for an ale, crossed my fingers and secretly prayed it would at least be compatible with human anatomy. Issac scanned the bar. He pointed out different factions at different areas. Dustmen, Sinkers, Bleakers and Godsmen were scattered about along with the occasional Xaos gang. There was a leavening of fiendish folk, also a few fae-looking creatures.
The bar sported a large stage with several props for instruments. There seemed to be some sort of amplification glamour on the stage. The skinny singer's voice carried much farther than one would expect in the noisy room. Of course that makes eavesdropping all the harder.
Lorne, the owner, sat at a table, surrounded by a coterie of different folk. He was dressed in a natty green pinstriped suit with a gold waistcoat. His bright green face laughed as he sipped a large drink.
Rumor has it that the foppish bar owner is far more dangerous than he appears. Rumor also has it that there is a doorway in Caritas that serves as a portal to a Prime World. But seeing as that same rumor speaks of the Prime world being overrun by some kind of demonoid vampires, I'm not sure why anyone would want to go there. I'm likely not the only one who seems to think like that. As, to my knowledge, no one has stepped forward claiming to have proven that particular portal story true or false.
I slowly took in the bar, the number of factions represented, (far more than can usually peacefully co-exist in the same room), the representatives of different Planar species, and the owners fashion sense, and shook my head.
“Oh yeah, This'll be fun!” I muttered. I saluted the rest of the table with my mug and took a drink. (It wasn't bad.)
"I wonder if anyone's going to sing hymns?" Karrin asked brightly. "I'm afraid I don't know a lot of other music. Oh, and how are we gonna approach this investigation? We can't exactly rough people up in here."
I glanced at her with a look of confusion on my face. I found out later it was mainly because she knows all the words to Hymns. Like, all of them. True story.
Isaac shrugged, "The direct way to approach is just to walk on over to those Dusties and ask about Toranna. It's probably best to have a cover reason for asking about her, though. Let's see... maybe we knew her from another adventuring company? She's devoted to the Power Cyric; maybe that's an angle we could use. Hmmm. Dustmen, Dustmen..."
He drummed his fingers on the table.
"So I walk over and I ask about the woman that handles the corpses brought in by the Collectors; she looked familiar when I went to ask about a friend and I want to see what those gentlemen know about her. That might be good. Simple, at least. Can't let on about the connection we think there is between her and the dying barmies."
I shrugged in return. "Sounds good. Better you than me. I haven't been here long enough to know a Dustman from a Bleaker. Apparently." I quipped sarcastically. Then I leaned forward and became serious.
"Just be careful. Fashion sense notwithstanding, I get a weird vibe from the owner over there. But I can't place it. I just don't think we want to be starting any brawls in here."
Bethany had perched on a stool next to the table, looking around the club. She would nod occasionally, so I presumed she was paying attention to the conversation. She seemed to be critiquing and classifying the club environs. Judging by the look on her face, she seemed to approve.
Bethany turned to Isaac and asked, "How does one get to perform on stage? It has been almost a week now since I have done any real singing other than to myself. It would be nice to perform for someone else for a change."
Isaac blinked in surprise. "Not sure. Never had to inquire, myself. Lorne over there owns the place, but it may be a better idea to ask the bartender before talking to the man himself."
Drazek grinned predatorally at Lady Bethany,"Yeah, show us what ya got, l'il lady."
Isaac took one more glance around. Then he stood up.
"Hmm. I better rattle my bone-box with them Dustmen before the top shelf acts get on. Back in a flash."
Lady Bethany looked at Drazek and raised an eyebrow. Then hopped off of her stool as well. Isaac made his way to the Dustmen's table as Bethany maneuvered herself towards the bartender. Drazek watched Bethany like a hawk. I watched Isaac.
No accounting for taste I suppose.
Bethany approached the bar in more or less graceful hops and spoke to the bartender, a scantily-clad Fire eladrin. The bartender smiled broadly and gestured to a scroll on the bar. Bethany made a mark on the paper, then made her way back to the table where she resumed her perch. Jak and Hergik made humorous commentary on the current performer while the rest of us tried to surreptitiously watch Isaac work.
Isaac had approached the Dustmen's table and made a large wave of greeting. We couldn't hope to hear what was said over the din of the current performer. (The sorcerous balladeer had been replaced by a, well I'm no judge of talent, but he was an enthusiastic young gnome. His accompaniment instrument of choice was a contraption that he wore that played various cymbals as he moved and sang.) But Isaac seemed to strike up a conversation with two of the Dustmen who seemed friendly enough. (Maybe it was the job that got to them after a while and made the majority seem so, cranky?) There was a brief conversation, a few nods from both sides, and a brief spurt of laughter. (From a Dustman!) Then the dustmen excused themselves and made their way to the stage, where a harried stagehand was trying to assist the young gnome offstage, but every movement made another clanging din and elicited another howl from the nearby patrons. (Some of laughter, some of frustration from a couple of patrons who seemed to have sensitive hearing.) Isaac waved as they left and sauntered back to our table. The gnome was finally removed after the stage hand stuffed towels in between all of the cymbals.
"Well, not much on her.” Isaac explained as the dustmen took the stage and began playing some dark, moody quartet chamber music. “Those cutters work with her sometimes, but our lady keeps to herself most Peaks. All work, no play: no wonder she had such a stick in her craw. All I learned was that she's Clue..."
Isaac recalled his company at the table, and adjusted his epithets.
"Eh, well, she's from the Prime originally. They're going to say hello to her for me, so we'll see what she does when she knows that someone's asking about her. Lovely music, eh?"
I raised an eyebrow at Isaac's almost-slip, but said nothing and took a drink instead.
"That's one bait dangling we can watch. Yeah, they aren't too bad. Least I've heard worse. From myself a time or two." I smirked and took another sip.
"I was just wondering,..." I said in a low voice, so as not to disturb Isaac's friends listening to the music. "I think I have an idea, how we can maybe get this mysterious assassin to strike when and where we want him too. But it all depends on how much trust one of us has in our acting abilities,..."
Isaac held up a tan hand.
"If you're suggesting that we pretend to be barmies and use ourselves as bait to draw whatever leatherheads are behind this out into the open, then I need some bub."
Isaac rose once more, and started rifling for coins in his pockets. "Anybody else want something?"
Lady Bethany flexed her wings again, which made her slip do interesting things again, which made Drazek's eyes do interesting things again. (OK. Probably my eyes too. I have excellent self control. But I'm not dead.)
"If they have any Avariel Ambrosia then I will have some. Other than that... a sparkling pink maybe?" She said in the most polite, conversational tone I had heard her use since I met her. That morning.
Karrin had been quiet for a bit. Judging by her eyes she was feeling a tad lost, or overwhelmed. I recognized the look. I saw it in the mirror almost every day. But when I mentioned baiting the killer, she turned immediately back and leaned in to join the quiet conversation.
"We don't even know how this guy is killing people yet," Karrin quickly pointed out, "That's real risky, we could get someone killed without learning anything."
Drazek barked a laugh. "More people'll get killed while you sit on that toned l'il ass o' yours. Gimme the strongest drink y'all got."
Karrin blinked, unsure how to respond. I myself was trying to decide if I liked Drazek because of his wit, or his lack of it.
"That was the general idea of my thought, yeah." I confessed to Isaac. "Unfortunately I'm better at playing a target than a crazy. And I'll have whatever you're having, Thanks." I looked dubiously at some of the more, exotic, drinks being consumed by the unusual collection of planar travelers and hoped that was a brave and not foolish choice on my part.
Isaac made his way to the bar and I continued musing.
"That spell on the body though. It's buggin' me. Those two auras just don't make sense,..."
I took the last swigs of my first drink, brow furrowed in thought.
"What if,... And I hate making guesses without evidence, but what if it's NOT just the bodies 'they' are after? And the eccentrics are just convenient? What if they are after the crazies themselves for some reason? But why? There would have to be a reason,... something they have, or know,..." I looked to Karrin.
"Is there any way to get more information on the, uh, 'Barmies' themselves? To see if there is any connection between them besides being considered unbalanced? Are they all casters? Or from the same plane? or use the same bank? Anything like that?"
"That spell,... Necro and illusion,..." I looked up, frowning. "I'm not best at the more subtle spells, but there are numerous spells that are simple misdirection. There are very simple charms that can put a magical aura on a normal weapon, or change one aura to look like another. I wonder. What if,... There were no marks on the body that we could see. What if he wasn't dead? Just enchanted to appear dead? That would explain the auras. And why the bodies are so conveniently disposed of. So no one can examine the remains. Because there aren't any."
"Well, what if they're after the madness?" Karrin asked, "Sounds silly really, but there's lots I don't know about magic . . . maybe that sort of thing can be collected somehow?" She looked at me curiously.
I shrugged. "That's the beauty and curse of magic. With magic, ANYthing is possible. Whether it's a good idea or not." I frowned at a memory that I didn't like reliving, reached for my mug, and frowned deeper when I remembered it was already empty.
Isaac returned, delicately balancing a tray with a large pitcher of dark beer and several chipped tankards, a wine glass of a pinkish liqueur and a shot glass with almost visible alcohol fumes wafting out of it. Before putting down the tray, he moved the candle a good distance away from where Drazek was sitting, then placed the smoking shot glass in front of him.
"I present to you Bel's Breath, the closest you can get to paint thinner while still being theoretically drinkable. If you don't go blind, I'm going to ask the bartender for my money back."
He placed the pinkish wine glass in front of Lady Bethany.
"The cagey cutter behind the bar told me this is the closest to Ambrosia they've got. I just hope he wasn't trying to bob me with cranberry juice and sparkling wine..."
"And for the rest of us, we have Balor's Head. I'm told it tastes just like the real thing!"
The lithe half-elf started pouring beer into the tankards and passing them out, not neglecting his Godsmen compatriots. He lifts his own mug and offered a benediction.
"First drink for courage, a second drink for luck, a third drink for folly. To new comrades, new friends and the Ascension!"
Plopping himself down, Isaac took a long sip. I raised my mug in salute as the others muttered various affirmatives and we all drank. "Thank ya Isaac!" Karrin beamed as she tasted the strange beer, "Nice!"
Isaac sighed after his long drink with pleasure. "Justin, old son, you're a trig cutter to be sure and those sound like theories to investigate, but I do think that Karrin has a point. We'll do more good doing legwork and keeping an ear to the street than trying to pass ourselves as barmies. For all we know, whoever's up to this is looking for their addled minds. I think doing some talking to Collectors, almshouses and other places the barmies call kip would be a good first start. Of course, Renkar's got our patron coming in tomorrow, so mayhap he'll have something. For now, though, let's try to enjoy the music, such as it is, eh?"
"Thanks, I think." I smirked to Isaac as from the corner of my eye I watched Drazek approach his smoking drink with the attitude of a cat with a caged canary.
"And that's a good point too. I was just trying to think of how to get this,... whatever, to come to us on our terms, instead of waiting for another body and trying to play catch-up." I explained my frustration.
"There is a possibility that our target is still alive though," Karrin quickly points out, "I mean we didn't see a body right? I think tomorrow we'd better somehow figure out what our target was researching and if it's in anyway related to these murders . . ."
"I hope he's alive. If not this is going to look very bad on my resume'!" I declared with a smirk to make sure that Karrin realized I was kidding. I took a sip and remembered,...
"I thought that Renkar said that 'Eli' was working on portals or something? It's possible that he found a way to open a door to a plane with creatures so powerful that they forced their way in and chased him down. Or maybe he saw something that drove him crazy, and he simply left the door open?" I shrugged as he took another sip of the dark brew. I didn't grimace as much as my taste buds became used to the flavor.
"Like I said, That's why I hate trying to come up with theories before having enough evidence. Especially when dealing with magic. Because ANYthing is possible!" I grumbled without rancor. That Balor's Head was strong and smooth. A dangerous combination. I liked it.
Isaac saluted with his mug. "Right. Toranna didn't strike me as the trustworthy type, and she was downright snappish when I suggested she might have the wrong person. What kind of nickname is 'Barmy Eli' anyways? Half the berks in Sigil would be 'Barmy Whatshisface' if we went in for that sodding nonsense. She thought us for a bunch of leatherheads, I'd reckon."
Isaac took a long sip of his beer and looked at us with an appraising eye.
"Of course, that's all business for tomorrow. The way I see it, we have some other business tonight. I bought the bub and I gave the toast. And since we're all new to each others company, I'd like to hear about you bloods. Which Prime worlds are you from? Why've you thrown in with the Rose? What are you looking for out here on the Wheel?" Issac looked at each of us in turn, open curiosity on his face.
"I'm from Oerth," Karrin piped up without hesitation, "And I just sort of stumbled into the World Serpent Inn a bunch of months ago. I worked as a mercenary back on my prime world so when the golden lord sent out feelers and started hiring it was an easy fit for me. But then after a couple of jobs he sort of forgot about me, then Renkar, who was an agent of Spiral Hal'oigt at the time, decided to start his own company and he hooked Eir and me right out from under him! So I guess Eir and I have been here on the ground floor so to speak, not that he didn't have a lot of work done before he started hiring, he's a careful planner that one. Always thinking." She said thoughtfully, gazing into her mug before taking another drink.
Bethany looked around the table and flexed her wings again. Setting off the usual chain reaction. (Slip, eyes, etc.) I was beginning to suspect that the gesture might be a result of being from a society of 'highly proper' winged folk. Sort of the human equivalent of a polite clearing of the throat.
"I am a Noble Scion of Mighty House Vex Archaise of the Glorious Nation of Harmonia on the world of Conchord." Lady Bethany declared proudly.
She paused expectantly, as if waiting for us to bask in her status and accord her her proper tributes. When none were forthcoming, she frowned petulantly and then continued.
"I was involved in an experiment between the Auralis Harmonium, the Bardic College I attended, and my own House's Wizard School, the Aeranis Academae. Something went wrong and some kind of Sound Elemental was summoned and went crazy, killing a bunch of students and teachers and grabbing me. I passed out and when I woke up I was laying in an alley in this foul City. After poking around for a couple of days and realizing that it was going to be difficult to find my way home again, I attempted to find employment. Renkar and Hanali were kind enough to give me a chance, even though I am quite new at this sort of thing, so here I am." She finished simply. She very deliberately and properly took another dainty sip of her sparkling drink.
I cleared my throat softly. "Well, I'm from the City of Sumdall in the Land of Izmer. We call our world Arcaine. I am also from a proud and noble house. The Case family. " I saluted the feathered Lady with my mug. "Although I do not claim to have as grand a title as yours. I was in attendance at my country's premier magical academy when I was,..."
I paused. Just bit longer than was comfortable. "I was caught up in the working of a powerful Ritual,...” I explained, and I knew the others could hear the capital 'R' in my voice, “,..with, several others, when a battle broke out between two of my professors."
I felt my face grow dark. "It turns out that one of my professors,... did not have the best interest of his students at heart. I know that several of the students there were killed. I don't know about the rest. I saw the teacher who was trying to protect the students fall, and I,... I saw him,... “ I took a drink. “When I woke up I was in an alley in the Hive. No one here seems to have heard of my world, much less a portal to it. I'm mainly just trying to find my way back. And make a living while I'm at it." I smiled half-heartedly.
I was going to need another drink.
There was a slightly uncomfortable pause, made more so by the realization that the previous act had gone silent. Isaac nodded sympathetically. "Ah, magical accidents. Terrible way to travel." He said kindly.
"Your telling me. I still get headaches just thinking about it." I morosely agreed, grateful for the mood-breaker. I was saved from further uncomfortable tension by a call across the bar, ”Lady Bethany to the stage!
Bethany heard her name called and put down her drink, casually licking the stray drops from her lips. She reached into her pack and pulled out a finely crafted Bronzewood and Bone Lyre that is quite obviously larger than should be able to fit inside the small bag. Obviously enchanted. We call them 'Handy Haversacks' back home.
Bethany left the bag with Isaac, but still continued to wear her Quiver up on stage. Glancing at the assembled crowd as she made her way up, she flapped her wings to land perched on the stool put there for performers.
Strumming the Lyre in a test, she launched into a bawdy tune about a lovesick Jilarhii (What she later described to us as a flying Chimpanzee) and the comical ways in which he tries to woo his intended mate. (I have written the song here as she sang it).
O, Cassus was a lovesick chap,
his love for June made his wings flap,
when'er she flew in his vicinity,
he thought about her sister and him in a trinity!
But when he told her of his plans,
she slapped his face with both her hands.
He said he meant no disrespect,
just wanted not to be hen pecked.
This revelation made her fume,
that's when he sang a lovely tune,
about a love which was so grand,
it made her want to hold his hand.
But once again he made an error,
when he tickled her nipple with a feather,
plucked from 'neath his loin cloth clothes,
'twas then she punched him in the nose.
But never one to be deterred,
he still continued, though now he slurred,
he said he'd like to make amends,
by letting her bring along some friends.
She screamed at him "You are a fool",
as he began to cry and drool,
her blow you see had done some harm,
for she was strong of will and arm.
'Twas at this stage he though it best,
to leave her with a firm behest,
that she should visit him on the 'morrow,
so he could ease her of her sorrow.
'Twas at this point that he did fall,
and slide his way down wooden wall,
to fall into a passed out sleep,
for as she'd learned he was a creep.
Her playing was good. I mean really good. At least as far as I could tell. Although I got the impression that she felt her lyre playing wasn't at her best, as if she was trying to get used to the room. Her voice though,... Wow.
Look, I already wrote that I'm no expert on performances. But I know a good one when I see it. Or in this case, hear it. OK, maybe it wasn't perfect. Who am I to judge? But she was putting a lot of emotion and feeling into that simple, bawdy tune, possibly channeling her recent frustrations about missing her home world and being trapped in Sigil, (I realized that she had been here less than a week? While I had several months to get used this place.)
Simply put, her enthusiasm was infectious, and her voice and bouncy lyrics won over the crowd. Whatever she did, it worked. She received a stirring round of applause when she finished. And by 'stirring round of applause', I mean half the bar rose to their feet and pounded tables or clapped enthusiastically. The rest probably only failed to rise to their feet because they were too drunk to do so. Even Lorne, the owner, raised his Day-Glo colored drink to Bethany and smiled. I myself joined the clapping crowd. I may not have recognized any of the races she was singing about, but some things are funny no matter what your physiology. I began to figure, maybe she wasn't too bad of a dame after all. I mean, I was hardly pleasant company the first month or so after my arrival either.
Lady Bethany demurely and graciously acknowledged the applause, fluttered down from the stool and made her way back to our table.
Drazek at last downed his drink with the finality of a man walking into battle against insane odds and watched Bethany as she exited the stage.
"Heh, turns out you also got a nice set 'o pipes." He congratulated her as she returned.
Bethany gave Drazek a withering stare as she resumed her seat and downed the remaining alcohol from her glass. She slammed the empty glass down so hard I expected it to shatter.
"Nice! Everything about me is decidedly better than simply nice, you uncultured barbarian." She sniffed her nose in the air and smoothed her slip down over her curves, making sure we ALL took note of how 'nice' she actually was.
--- End of Part 1 ---
Stay Tuned for Part 2!
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AND you waited long enough LAST time!
Justin's Story- A Silver Rose Adventure
Chapter 5 (Part 2)
A Night on the Town-Continued
,...
"An excellent, uh, I guess the term is 'composition', right? “ Isaac offered into the frigid air emanating from Bethany at the moment. “Excellent playing, Lady Bethany. I think I knew a berk just like the fellow you were singing about. Used to see him everyday in the mirror!" He smiled affably.
"Heh. I still do." I murmured as I nodded to Bethany and her sharp tongue in salute, trying not to appreciate how 'nice' she actually was. Too much,...
Drazek just grinned at Bethany's rebuke, taking note of her movements and the figure they displayed. Catching my eye, he winked.
Bethany took note of the looks she was receiving, from others in the bar as well as from our table. She seemed pleased, judging by the smirk that appeared on her face.
With a bemused sigh I hid my own smirk in another sip of my beer and idly looked around the bar, once more amazed at the sheer variety of life-forms and political diversity represented in this one room.
Annnnd my paranoia paid off. (Or not.) Again. The crowd shifted as they resumed their seats, and I had a clear view of a table in a far corner that had been all but hidden from me until that moment. I had started to take another drink, but paused in mid-gulp, eyes wide.
“Ah Hades.” I swore softly but fervently. “THERE goes the neighborhood!”
"Eh? What's the chant, Justin?" Isaac asked calmly, but he was instantly alert and poised for action.
"Hm? Oh, nothing, just a little bit of road-kill that keeps popping his head up when you least expect him.” I replied with venom I usually reserved for lower life-forms. Like the plague.
“See that Kobold across the room there? The one in the perfectly tailored silk suit? Yeh, that's him. Name's Macaroni,... er, Marconi. He runs one of the largest territories in Sigil. Crosses several of the 'normal' faction boundaries. Seems the Hard-hats all know who he is, but won't touch 'em. The ones he doesn't pay don't want to catch him because he actually keeps a lot of the more violent crimes down. He likes to have happy, profitable, customers for his 'businesses'. The gargoyle behind him in the matching suit is his bodyguard and chief enforcer. Horace. He's about as smart as the rocks he's made of, but he's loyal to Marconi like nothing I've ever seen. I wonder why Marconi is here? He usually keeps all of his business transactions in his own businesses. And I didn't think he owned this place. I don't know who the white Kobold is, or the kobold in the armored,.. wait, that's not armor,... is that a kobold golem?!?" I stopped talking because my jaw had dropped, still staring at the figures across the room.
Karrin glanced over at the kobolds' table and blinks, she swiftly turned back to us.
"That's Whitescale and Clamps," Karrin said before she lowered her voice almost to a growl, "and I sure hope they're not here doing what I think they're doing!"
Judging by the frigid tone in Karrin's voice, THEY would soon be hoping the same thing. I shivered.
"OK, 'Whitescale' I can see. But who, or what, is 'Clamps'? And what IS it that you think they're doing?" I asked, taking a longer look at the group around the well-dressed crime boss.
"All I know for sure is, if Marconi's involved, then there's money involved. Lots of money. And it's probably illegal. Or something legal that's been so twisted around so as to take advantage of some legal loophole that would otherwise be illegal." I tried to explain Marconi in a nut shell. But it didn't fit very well.
I looked around our table, "Overall, he's not a very nice lizard. But he does have a code of honor. Of sorts. I've never heard of him breaking his word. But like making a deal with a devil, be VERY careful what you agree to." I warned the others.
Isaac looked slightly concerned. "Are you expecting a dust-up with this cross-trader? I'd advise against doing it here. I've only heard rumors about berks picking a fight around Lorne. Not one of 'em pretty."
"No, I don't plan on starting anything." I tried to assure Isaac, taking another pull on my beer.
'No matter how much I might want to sometimes.' I growled loudly to myself.
"The few times I've had,... um,... intense discussions, with any of Marconi's crew, I've always managed to come out ahead. But only barely, usually with a little dumb luck and always with a lot of help. He doesn't skimp on anything. Not even the hired help." I grumbled into my mug.
"Fortunately, you don't always get what you paid for,..." I smirked, rubbing my left shoulder at a memory. I shook my head.
"No, I'm not gonna start anything." I repeated. I wondered if I was trying to convince Isaac, or myself. "But I DO wonder what he's up too." I growled.
Karrin motioned for us all to lean in. We did so.
"Ok here's the deal," Karrin practically whispered, "Our last big job was securing a salt supply for a concerned party. See these goblin types were undercutting the competition, and worse still, as we continued our investigation we discovered that they were kidnapping kobolds and scaled folk to work as slaves. I despise slavers you know. Anyways when we found this out we put out some feelers into the kobold community to see if we could rustle up some support. Whitescale over their stepped up and offered his assistance. Anyways, long story short, we found this source, took out most of the goblins, freed the slaves, and we let Whitescale and his crew sit on the supply as long as he promised not to bring it back into Sigil. Maybe he's here on other business, I sure hope that's the case, but if he's selling salt then that means he's gone back on his word and then we might have to do something about it. I hope that's not the case. He seemed a fairly decent basher, but if we got to take him out he'll have only himself to blame."
Karrin's no-nonsense tone made me glad I wasn't an albino kobold.
Bethany raised a wingtip. "So does that mean we're now doing three jobs? Finding Crazy... sorry, Barmie Eli, finding out who is killing these Barmies, and going after these Kobolds?"
She paused. "And to think. On my world Kobolds are nothing but annoying nuisances, although I've never actually seen a White one before, just the Green ones. And that other one is strange looking as well."
"I'm bettin' they bleed same as the ones in your neck o' the woods." Drazek offered helpfully.
Bethany's only reply to Drazek was a disdainful sniff, and looking away from the ragged warlock. He grinned. Her piercing gaze fell upon the club owner's table, and she noticed Lorne glance her way while calling for another disgustingly bright drink. The dapper demon saluted our winged companion with his glowing glass and smiled. Bethany immediately excused herself, and headed towards his table. She was trying as hard as she could to walk without the peculiar gait common to her people, and I noticed she made sure to smooth over her head feathers before arriving at the owner's table. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought that that she was actually trying to impress this guy. I glanced at Drazek, but if he was jealous, it didn't show on his face. (Truthfully, I have no idea WHAT was on Draz's face. Other than he seemed perturbed at his empty, still-steaming shot glass for daring to be empty.)
Lorne was a handsome devil (or demon, still not quite sure how that goes with him). He was dressed in a rich green silk suit with a gold-brocaded waistcoat, with pearl buttons. He was also surrounded by several sycophants and what looked to be a personal butler, a burly tiefling minion tasked with drink procurement. Lorne smiled as Lady Bethany approached and stood to meet her, clapping lightly. They exchanged greetings, and Lorne took Bethany's hand and bowed over it, chatting and smiling pleasantly. Bethany seemed not to notice anything else going on in the place anymore. She seemed captivated, and I really wished I could hear what they were talking about.
I reluctantly drew my gaze away from the silent drama unfolding at Lorne's table and forced my attention back to the conversation I COULD hear. I nodded at Karrin's tale, understanding glinting in my eyes.
"I dunno. Salt seems a little,... tame, for Marconi. Unless there's a political entanglement that I'm not aware of. But transportation, or distribution. THAT sounds like something that he'd be in on. Local or passing through to somewhere else, he's got the connections to make that happen." I nodded thoughtfully. It would explain his being possibly involved in what seemed a mundane enterprise. Maybe it was just business.
"That might also explain his doing business out of his natural habitat. It's not his business. He's just providing a service." I shrugged and took another drink while watching the kobolds converse, bobbing my head slightly in time with the latest act on stage as I watched. (It was a pair of Fensir Trolls singing a dirge. Not exactly cheerful, but the melody was surprisingly catchy.)
Now that my surprise had passed, I was no longer upset at seeing Marconi, just highly curious. The kobolds seemed to be thick as thieves. They shared drinks and leaned in, muttering softly to each other. Horace the stone gargoyle ape and Clamps the kobold golem were practicing hard stares on each other. I was willing to place bets on that contest, but they broke it off as if by silent mutual agreement, then they scanned the room. The two started when their eyes passed our group's table. They both bent down to their bosses almost simultaneously and whispered in their ears.
"Well, this should be fun,..." I muttered into my mug as I drained the last of the brew and looked to see if the pitcher had enough for a refill. It had been a long day. If I was gonna have to deal with Marconi, I wanted all the liquid fortitude I could get.
"Well this is coming anyways," Karrin said, standing suddenly, "Better go over and say 'Hi' now."
Karrin turned and walked towards the kobold table without hesitation.
I raised an eyebrow as I watched Karrin rise and walk across the room. I raised the other one to meet it as it finally dawned on me what Karrin intended to do.
"'Scuze me gents, I wouldn't miss this for the world!" I said gleefully as I hastily raised my lanky form from the chair and followed Karrin through the crowd to the 'kobold' table. Somehow she had maneuvered her petite form through the crowd and had almost reached the other table by the time I had stood up from ours. I arrived behind Karrin just in time to hear her explain to Marconius that she worked for a mercenary company.
"Nice to meet ya Marconius," Karrin was saying to the silk-suited crime lord. "Whitescale here is solid in a fight and he's a solid dealer. Nice to meet someone he trusts as a business partner. I do work as a mercenary Mr Antonius, but I got a solid boss that I trust and am loyal too. If you got work we are always interested in making new contacts . . . but Renkar handles the business end."
Marconi gave Karrin a toothy grin, spreading his perfectly manicured claws.
"I always have jobs for hende bloods. Where's yer kip?"
I used my height to peek over Karrin's slimmer and shorter shoulder.
"Heya Marconi, I thought I heard your dulcet tones over here. How's it goin'? Business good? Horace! Is that you?! Have you lost weight? Cuz you look good. Really." I declared in my best patently-earnest tones. And a straight face. (I've been told I should take up Poker. Or Dragons Wing Bluff.)
Horace, the gorilla-cum-gargoyle, glared boulders at me from beneath his cavernous brow. The weight of his gaze would be enough to warn any sensible person away. So I simply returned it with a happy grin.
Horace tightened his large ham-like fists, which were on arms long enough to almost drag the floor. The resulting sound was not unlike gravel caught in a meat grinder.
The well-dressed kobold looked up from Karrin, realized it was me, and the grin faded quickly.
"Justin Case. What brings you to my table? " Marconi hissed as if he had just eaten something sour.
"You with this berk?" Marconi asked Karrin pointedly.
Horace growled almost subsonically as his fists continued to clench and unclench. I held up my empty hands, palms out.
"Geez, Easy Horace. Your gonna crack a tooth like that." I told the gargoyle with sincere concern. At least, with as much sincerity as I could muster.
"Why am I here? No reason at all Marconi. I was just curious who Karrin was talking too. Like you I'm just here to relax with my new associates and listen to some music." I said amiably.
To emphasize my point, I looked deliberately at the stage. The Dirge-singing Trolls had been replaced by a Spinagon Devil belting out showtunes. This latest act was,... questionable compared to the Harpy's wondrous performance.
"At least, some of it is music,..." I murmured with an apologetic shrug.
Karrin looked back and forth between Marconi and myself during our little interchange.
"I take it that you two have a history," Karrin said, stating the (painfully) obvious. "Justin joined our outfit a few days ago, if you say that means we can't do business I'd understand, no hard feelings or anything, but Renkar can usually spot talent and is an honest dealer. I hope you'll consider us."
Marconi grimaced, looking like whatever sour thing he had eaten earlier was trying to crawl back up. "He has a talent for being a pain in my fundament, that's for certain." He hissed aside to the white-scaled kobold.
I feigned shock, placing a hand on my chest and silently mouthed, 'Me?!?'
I glanced at Karrin, who was giving ME a raised eyebrow and pursed lips look.
"Hey, It's not always my fault when a building goes up in flames!" I hastily explained, only a trifle defensively.
Marconi smiled at Karrin again. (Note, a 'pleasant smile' to a kobold looks a lot like a 'baby dragon looking at lunch' to us other humanoids.)
"Oh, I won't hold your choice of co-workers against you.” Marconi hissed with oily pleasantness. “What's yer location? Yeh work in the Market Ward? Or is that just Justin? " He smiled at me with that pointy-toothed, $#!^-eating grin.
So of course I smiled back without missing a beat.
"Yep, that's me. Silver Rose Company, Market Ward branch." I piped up cheerfully.
"After all, Someone has to watch out for all the,... little people" I said as I tipped my head down, as if to get a better look at the kobold, who was seated well beneath my own 6'+ tall frame.
Now, dear reader(s?) before you go getting the wrong impression about me,
<Note scribbled in margin; Too late!>
In my own defense I would like to point out that I was NOT trying to deliberately provoke Marconi. Not really, anyway. I just wanted to remind the little lizard that I had made certain promises, that I would protect those who couldn't protect themselves from anyone. Even him. Just because we seemed to have reached an equilibrium in our relationship, which may include a certain, reluctant and grudging, respect for each other, did not mean that either of us liked the other!
Yeah,... The fact that it also happened to be a perfectly pointed comment about his lack of height was strictly an unintentional bonus. I swear!
Karrin turned back to the albino kobold, "So Whitescale, this isn't just a social visit. I got to ask you some questions about a job we're currently working on. See there's this murderer loose in the hive hunting barmies, and I'm wondering if you've heard anything worth sharing?"
Whitescale shrugged, glancing briefly at Marconi before answering Karrin.
"Most of me contacts are in the Lower Ward. The Hive's not really me kip. I can set you on one of me brethren wot runs the courier racket in the Madhouse District. Fer a future favor a-course." He added with a toothy grin.
"Naw, that's alright Whitescale," Karrin said, waving off the offer. "It's not that we can't use the help, but at this point I'd rather not pull anyone else into this if we can help it. I'm going to meet with some Xaos gangers tomorrow, but maybe if we get stuck I'll look you up and you can give me the contact then."
There was a gentle tap on my shoulder, I started before I realized it was Issac. He had silently walked right up through the crowd behind us while we were talking and touched both Karrin and I on our shoulders at the same time. The fact that Karrin looked as surprised as I did at his sudden appearance made me feel a little better. I mentally berated myself, and reminded myself that the joy of smarmy-kobold baiting did NOT take precedence over survival paranoia.
"Sorry to cut in, bloods, but we've got a stewed harpy on our hands. We'll be outside with her when you're all finished with your palaver." Issac explained pleasantly. He seemed amused.
Issac nodded a greeting to the kobolds, gave Horace and Clamps an appraising look that wasn't directly challenging, waved a polite goodbye, and glided back through the crowd towards our table. I saw Drazek lifting an obviously inebriated Bethany in his arms. Apparently in the short time since we had parted ways, the harpy had gotten a hold of something that decided to bite back. In professional wizard circles, we called that 'blitzed'. I made a note to ask what she'd had.
"Oops looks like our business is done here," Karrin said. "Nice meeting you Marconius, good seeing you again Whitescale, later Clamps, we got to fly."
The table of thieves nodded politely. “Pleasure meeting you Karrin.” Marconius called after her as she turned to follow Issac through the crowd.
I bowed slightly, stepping back to allow Karrin to go first. I turned back to the table, and nodded politely myself.
"Pleasure to meet you Whitescale, Clamps. Marconi, always a pleasure. I'll see you around!" I waved airily to the table, winked at Horace's looming form, (eliciting another round of gravel-grinding from his fists) and turned to follow Karrin and the others before I could push Marconi's buttons one too many times. There would always be another time.
Karrin and I caught up to the rest as Issac was waving a polite goodbye to our dapper demon host across the room. Lorne laughed at the sight of Draz carrying the now-insensible Bethany and waved back with a smile. "Tell her to stay away from Gehenna Stingers next time!" He called out to us as we made our goodbyes to Issac's friends.
Hergik and Jak decided to stay on a bit longer. "We have a half-day tomorrow," Jak explained in a slur. "An' this is as good a place to bub as any."
Drazek hauled the drunken harpy out the door. The large dual-headed bouncer snickered as they passed him. "Good luck with her cutter!" He called out in a mirthful tone. The bouncer's snake head hissed.
With a quiet chuckle, Drazek walked out carrying Bethany, walking up the walls or sticking to the rooftops when possible, allowing the high night air to work its magic on the avian beauty. (Warlocks. They do have some useful tricks. Sometimes. I'll admit that. Just not to Draz.)
I stepped outside and took a breath of fresh(?) air. “Well, I was right. That WAS fun!” I said with a sideways glance at the others. Yeah they pretty much ignored that one. No sense of humor. I shrugged.
So, our group heads back down Gear Street towards the Great Foundry. The hour is late, and Sigil has settled firmly into Antipeak. In fact it is close to Antipeak now, about 11 PM as we measured time on my world. The Gear District is quiet, with only the occasional metallic squeal or flash of sparks coming from behind locked courtyard gates.
The Foundry District is never quiet, even at this late hour. The smokestacks belch flame and workers scurry back and forth. Issac sees several cutters he knows. They wave, but don't stop, their minds on their tasks.
Swordhold is in full swing, the jinkswords handing their hard-won loot over to the jinkskirts and bubmeisters. As the group walks on we hear a shout,...
"Oi! Stand fast!"
A group of five armored 'cutters' step towards us with purpose in their step.
Drazek tightens his hold on the semi-conscious Bethany and moves over to the wall of the nearest building.
"Oh, goodie. JUST when I thought I might actually make it to bed without someone, or thing, trying to cause me bodily harm today." I muttered upon seeing where the shout came from.
I casually made sure that my coat is opened enough to reveal the sword under it, (and provide access to it), but made no motion or gesture towards the blade. I flex my fingers as the red-armored group closes in, habitually stepping behind Issaac and Karrin where I am safe from a frontal assault, but my height allows me a clear line of sight to the newcomers.
"I think you berts have the wrong people," Karrin says to the strangers, her foot slides forward into a ready combat stance, and her spiked gauntlet slides down the axe haft so it's ready for a quick swing, "We don't know you and I'm sure you don't know us."
Isaac stands stock-still, his hands in plain view.
"Uh, Karrin?", he whispers,"I would suggest a little more civil tone to a Harmonium patrol. These bashers tend not to sodding care whether you're practicing the cross-trade or not when they catch up with you. Especially when you've got an axe out."
"They'll care when they're laid out." Drazek muttered darkly from the,... darkness. The shadows had once more coalesced around him and the harpy he carried, making him harder to spot in the gloom.
"Pike it, berk. Let's hear the screed 'fore you make any barmy decisions." Issac snapped back. (I had never heard Issac speak with 'intensity' before. Now I knew that he had a 'business' side too.)
As the group closed in on us, Issac's comments finally pushed the dawn through my beer-fogged brain, and I realized why they looked so familiar. They were harmonium. Same group that Murphy worked for. (How strong WAS that 'Balor's Head' beer anyway?!? I began to seriously reconsider whether or not I was actually in any condition to cast a spell. Safely.) The head of the Hardhead patrol took in the scene and noticed Drazek carrying the insensate Bethany in the shadows. He frowned when he saw Karrin gripping her axe shaft.
"Oi bint, I'd take me pie snatchers off your kindler if I wuz you. I'll have you up in front of a Guvner on threatening an officer of the Harmonium." The officer declared with the harsh, confident tone of one obviously used to being obeyed. He looks about at our group, evaluating us through narrowed eyes.
"Wot's wif the dead bird? You folks taking the Collectors coppers? We don't cotton to no unlicensed Resurrection Men in this district."
"Oh wait, I guess these guys are the har . . . Harmoniums," Karrin had caught up to my own revelation. (I had hoped that the beer was affecting more than just me!) She relaxed her stance but kept the large axe on her shoulder, "Sorry officer, but I've had a few too many people threatening me today and I didn't realize who you guys were when I responded. I'm Karrin Kind of the Silver Rose company and these are my associates. What seems to be the problem?" Karrin explained in her own cheerfully confident manner.
"She ain't any deader than you. Just a little too much o' the good stuff." Drazek growled from the shadows. He emphasized his statement with a slap on Bethany's posterior. The harpy's head lolled to the side and what can only be described as a chirp escaped her lips, before she became still once more.
The Harhead sargeant frowns, his jutting brow furled. "Yeah ain't brain snatchers? She just bubbed?" He advanced a step and smelled the Gehenna Stingers on Bethany's breath. He waved a hand in front of his face and took two steps back. "Eh, I guess not. Best be getting it off the streets."
The seargent glanced at Karrin and scowled again for good measure. "Yer lucky I gots a long Antipeak ahead .."
He stomped back to his squad and they marched off without another word.
",...What'd I do?" Karrin asked, scratching her head.
"Just posturin', pay 'em no mind. Let get this l'il lady home without needin' to kill somebody on the way." Drazek chuckled, shifting Bethany effortlessly in his arms.
I gave a little sigh as the red-armored group turned and left. Then I smirked and raised one hand up to my shoulder, waggling my fingers in farewell.
"I know that every civilization has some form of police force, but those guys give me the creeps!" I muttered as they continued on their way. “Most of them, anyway.” I amended.
Issac snorted mirthlessly. "Aye, and well they should. If those leatherheads just kept the heat to the cony catchers, brainsnatchers and chivvers they'd be top-shelf bloods. But they twigged to the notion of gettin' everyone under the Hardhead's vision of "Harmony" and now a berk can barely breathe without gettin' scragged. Just a part of life in the Cage, unless you live in the Hive."
Issac paused,"And then, of course, a berk's got bigger problems than a fat lot of bullies in red armor." He added thoughtfully.
The party resumed our homeward trek. Exiting Swordhold and the Lower Ward, we skirted across the Temple District as Antipeak strikes. Antipeak is a busy time among the temples, especially those catering to the Lower Realms. A mob of demons howled and capered by the infamous Temple of the Abyss, but we managed to stay well clear of them.
Walking through the quiet Court District and into the Nobles' District, we encountered swarms of late-night party goers exiting various parties in the many mansions. The local taverns, inns and restaurants were abuzz with well-dressed drunken social climbers. Squads of Harmonium troopers looked on, determined to keep the district quiet. Bethany elicited less attention here, as she wasn't the only passed-out drunk being hauled home. Although I didn't notice any others with feathers.
Copperman Way greeted us at the end of the Nobles' District and the beginning of the Market Ward. The Night Markets were in full swing, and the group was pelted with offers from merchants, barkers, pimps and jinkskirts alike. Pressing on, we made it to the Copper Cauldon.
Herbert, Bess' brother, is handling the late night door. He opened the door yawning slightly and ushers us in. "Everyone is gone ta bed cutters.” He says, yawning again."We gots stew or some leftover mutton pie if yeh're hungry."
The common room is empty but for a couple of workmen nursing ales by the banked hearth.
"Forty winks sounds like a fine plan, thanks. Let's just get Beth to bed first. Is there a bucket we can put by her bedside?" Issac stifled his own yawn.
Herbert looks at Issac quizzically. "Why not put her chamberpot by her bedside?"
"Oh, sure. That won't trigger any reactions from an already upset stomach." I muttered sotto voice.
Issac blinked in surprise. "We get chamberpots?! Blinkered Ascension, such wealth and luxury! At the Foundry we just used buckets and this one time when I was more bub than man I, well... water buckets should be clearly labeled, don't you think?" He asked Herbert with wide-eyed sincerity.
I snickered as Herbert's face registered several emotions as he sleepily processed that statement. "C'mon, the chamberpot'll work fine after I'm done with it." I gave Hebert a friendly wave and half-smile to show I didn't mean anything, and followed Drazek and Isaac up the stairs towards Bethany's 'roost'. While the other, stronger, guys carefully laid the Harpy on the bed, I approached the rooms chamberpot with the resigned look of a man who looks like he has to hang out his wife's laundry to dry. By the public well. I muttered a short arcane phrase, removed the lid and quickly waved my hand above the foul pot in a circle. I made another motion, as if crushing something up and dropping it in, and the fragrance of lavender soon filled the room.
"That'll do it." I sighed in relief as I pick up the now magically-cleaned and pleasant smelling urn and carried it over to the bedside.
"The scent won't last but an hour, but at least it's clean." I explained to the others. I snuck a final look at Bethany, and gave a small smile at the now-sweetly-sleeping harpy. (I hope the others thought it was a smirk.) I turned and quietly left the room.
I stumbled back down the stairs and, following Herbert's directions, went into the kitchen to snag a couple of mutton pies and a mug of beer. Returning to a table with my loot, I used my still- active spell to warm the pies and chill the beer, and devoured them with undisguised bliss on my face. In the time it took me to eat my two pies, I saw Karrin polish off two plates of food. I leaned back after finishing the last drop from my flagon and closed my eyes in contentment. "Yep, all I need now is sleep." I muttered happily, perfectly content to do so right then, right there. No one seemed inclined to stop me.
Then I felt my brow furrow as my ever-practical mind poked me, reminding me of a simple but important fact. "Ah,... Shards and shells!" I grumbled wearily, my eyes still closed.
"I was just getting used to the idea that I can stay here, but I haven't brought over any of my stuff from my place yet!" I moaned without real vehemence, stretching my full length out in the chair and laying my head back. I sighed. And then again, a little more (melo)dramatically.
"Alright, nothing for it then." I bemoaned, laboriously leveraging myself to my feet. (What? It had been a long day. And I felt as if I had walked the entire city of Sigil. Twice. I had earned the right to whine. A little.)
"I'll see you gents tomorrow morning then. But not TOO early!" I added emphatically. I gave Drazek a raised eyebrow, Isaac a two-fingered salute, and tossed a casual wave to Karrin (who looked as if she was contemplating licking her already clean plate) as I headed out the door with a resigned sigh. "And this time I'm packing my bag!" I muttered as I closed the door behind me.
I strode towards my apartment, my long legs eating up the distance as I contemplated all that I had seen that day. 'I wonder what Marconi's up to now? I wonder if I should tell Murphy? Naw, what am I gonna tell her? I saw Marconi talking to another kobold? Oooo! Scary!' I scoffed at myself as I used the power of my magical tattoo to create balls of candlelight to float above my shoulder and light the way. I made sure to take the 'safest', or at least 'most-likely-to-be-patrolled' route back to my home. Apartment. Crib. Berth. 'WhatEVER' I grumbled to myself as I clomped down the street, giving a close look at any who seem likely to 'stumble' too near.
I pondered of the meanings of crazy wizards, deaths that leave no marks, disappearing bodies, and gangsters' backroom deals, causing the time to go by swiftly. I blinked wearily as I realized that I had taken the turn into the alley mouth that holds the entrance to my basement apartment. I took a final look around, took the three steps down to my doorway, used my key, and let myself in.
A quick look proved that the tiny apartment was empty, and the spare key was gone from its resting place among the rest of my assorted junk. Satisfied that Skyy could let herself back in, If she hadn't already found another place to crash, I locked the door, peeled off my leather coat and draped it across the back of my one comfortable chair. Then I kicked off my cat-boots, held out my arms, and toppled backwards into my bed. Pleasantly weary, and (for a change) even more pleasantly full, my brain was nevertheless buzzing as I contemplated the day's events. Again. I was convinced that I wouldn't get to sleep anytime soon. But just as I thought I might see the glimmer of a connection,... I think I began snoring,... Because that's all I remember. Until,...
Sometime in the small, wee hours of the morning, I was woken briefly by Skyy returning. But not until she snuggled in close to me. I remember blearily thinking that she was rather under dressed,...
<The neat, block letters become a hasty, heavy scrawl >
Yes dear reader(s), that's all you get. What did you expect?! This is a serious research journal. A record of exciting explorations, important discoveries, and universal enlightenment, not a smutty romantic copper dreadful!
<More of the now-familiar feminine handwriting in the margin>
'Besides, if you DID, I'd have to hurt you.'
<Heavy scrawl in margin underneath>
Yes. And there's that too.
END of Chapter 5
This was a lot to digest, and process, and enjoy. 5 pages of Posts, which turned into 26 pages of edited journal. And that's NOT counting the posts what happened to the girls who stayed behind at the Copper Cauldron!
Justin finds out about THAT next time,... :)
Lol, I could/should have tried to work that in. :)
Either way, Karrin don't take nuthin' from NO one! ;)
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I am SO sorry to have kept you all waiting! A whole year no less!
But the wait will be rewarded!
Behold, for your reading pleasure,...
Justin's Story, Part 6!
Justin's Story- Chapter 6
Hitting the Bricks
OR; Some Walking, Some Talking, and maybe an actual clue!
(Chronicle Pages 75-78)
Just so you know, not all adventures are,... well,... all that adventurous. At least not at first. The tales and chronicles of great and famous adventurers are full of excitement and derring-do, but neglect to mention the dreary days and weeks of dangerous travel, and uncomfortable conditions that were endured before getting to the exciting part. I had done enough freelance wizarding work to know that there was much more boring legwork and asking questions than flamboyant spell-slinging in any mystery solving. And this brain-twister of a case was no exception. I had no doubt that we would get to the 'exciting' part soon enough, (and I was right) but first,...
Now, where did I leave off? Oh yes. Well. Absolutely nothing happened the next morning. At all. I just slept in, enjoying the rest. Yes, that's the only reason I was running a teensy bit late meeting the others at the Copper Cauldron.
And anyone who says otherwise can choose between a face full of fireball, or asking my new 'roommate' about it themselves.
(HINT: I think you'll have better luck with the fireball.)
<There is a small but neat smiley-face with horns drawn in the margin here>
So I stood in the entryway a moment, again using my minor magics to remove the majority of the mess of Sigil's streets from my clothes. I could hear the murmur of chatter and recognized the voices. Issac was talking as I entered the tavern proper, answering someone's question about our escapades last night I believe.
"Nothing new, really.” Issac was saying to Merle, Nari and Karrin. Swift was at a small table nearby. “This Toranna doesn't seem thick with many bloods, even with the Dusties. Still sodding Clueless on who she runs with. I guess it helps the theory, though: keeps to herself so there's fewer members of the Faction poking a nose into whatever she's up to. I'm hoping our patron will have a better idea of where to look when we talk to 'im. Karrin and Naridre had a good notion to hit the soup kitchens, though, so there's a place for rattling the bone box further."
The half-elf smiles to himself and rubs his goatee.
"We also found out that it takes about three Gehenna Stingers to floor a harpy." Issac added, chucking a thumb at the stairway to the apartments above. He noticed Merle seemed quite chipper, humming happily as she ate her breakfast.
"You seem to be in a good mood, Merle. What's the chant? Anything we should celebrate?"
Merle briefly looked up from her breakfast and quite casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, said "Oh nothing much. I just don't have to hide the fact that Seph is my brother who I accidentally turned into a cat any more."
At that moment, and for several more following, you could have heard a pin drop. What you heard instead was the sound of my backpack hitting the floor. Followed closely by my jaw. I finished the routine with an excellent recitation of, “WHA?!?!?!?!”
Yes. That was me. Taking every opportunity to keep the myth of the 'All-Knowing Wizards' alive.
Isaac also looked surprised, glancing between Merle and Seph and back again. He found his voice first.
"Well. Send me to the Mazes. Congratulations! The first step to not being a cat anymore is admitting that you aren't... really a cat."
The half-elf smiled in a consoling fashion as he spoke directly to Seph.
"Could be worse, old son. In a previous life, I was a sodding kangaroo rat. Gobbled up by an owl and that was it. Think of this as just one painful step on your road to Ascension."
"Kangaroo rat? Ascension?" Nari asks, confused. The shy maid was startled enough by this talk of previous lives to actually ask the questions out loud. She looks over at Seph and shrugs, an expression of bemused confusion on her face.
Seph shrugs as well, his mind in its current form not being able to really comprehend that sort of talk either.
Isaac nods solemnly. As he explains, his Cager cant disappears and is replaced with just a faint accent hinting of somewhere both familiar and distant.
"Aye. When I was a only a lad I would have two kinds of dreams: the usual jumbled-up ones full of nonsense like everyone else and something more like memory. I hopped through the cold, dry desert air in the night looking for food or a mate or just to avoid snakes and scorpions. I even remember it right up to being eaten: the cry that paralyzed me in the open, the sudden painful squeeze of the owl's talons. After the first time I recalled that, I couldn't stomach meat anymore. It just felt... wrong."
"Where I grew up, there was an old fellow named Fernbeard (he literally had a beard made of ferns; used to bang about with a Wild Mage and that's what happened) and he was a Believer of the Source. He explained that I was recalling a former life on my road to Ascension. We Godsmen believe that existence on the Planes are a proving ground like a forge, that we're all trying to reach our greatest potential to eventually become Powers and then whatever is beyond the Powers. Most of us take a few lifetimes to get there, taking steps forward and steps back: hence, I went from kangaroo rat to half-elf, likely with a few steps in between. And the thing is: we think everyone is going through that process, even if they don't know it. That's why Godsmen are known for their tolerance in Sigil: everything has the potential to be divine, so how can you say one berk is better than another?"
The half-elf gulps down his tea and mimics a professorial air. (If I hadn't of known better, I'd have thought that he was mimicking my old professor. Or me when I get talking.)
"For further lectures, I suggest a visit to the Great Foundry, where various metaphors about ore, slag and forging will be used to illustrate my philosophy. And bring a change of pants. You'll know why when it happens."
Nari just,... shook her head. Not knowing her exact thoughts (SHE'S the mind-mage) I don't know exactly why. She was probably trying to wrap her head around the whole Ascension thing. Just like I was trying to wrap my head around the whole Seph thing.
Isaac shrugged. "Hey, you asked." He said politely. But here, I have a clue as to what he was likely thinking. "Once a Prime, always a Prime.". I only say that because he has told me that to my face a couple of (dozen) times. With a smile, usually.
Nari looked like she was going to just go back to eating, but at that point her psicrystal jumped on her food. It's tiny, ectoplasmic 'legs' making patterns in her eggs. She sighed and set down her fork.
"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry if I w-w-was rude. I d-d-don't understand about the f-f-factions. W-w-w-what about the B-b-bleakers? W-w-w-what is it they b-b-believe? And the D-d-d-dustmen? It's hard t-t-to investigate something w-w-when you d-d-don't know who any of the g-g-groups are and why they d-d-do or d-d-d-don't g-g-get along."
Seeing Nari getting nervous again Seph hops over and climbs onto her shoulder, giving a quick hiss at the psicrystal as he does so. The mobile rock seemed singularly unimpressed.
The tall half-elf's expression softens. Issac puts up both hands in a peace gesture.
"Hey, hey. You weren't rude, it's my fault for not getting it out right. My teacher Ombidias could tell you better than me what we believe in: I'm just a Namer, after all. That means I haven't worked my way very far up the ranks, like a new recruit. Now, the Bleak Cabal and the Dustmen don't get along with my faction most of the time. Bleakers believe that existence is pointless: that the planes hold no meaning or goal for anyone. Since most folk go about their lives believing it has to be about something, it comes as a shock for most when they accept the idea that nothing really matters. So most Bleakers are a little addle-coved to various degrees. They take on the barmies at the Gatehouse and run their soup kitchens because they say they want to find meaning in others if they can't find it in the Planes. It's admirable, but I'm sure they get something out of it. We oppose each other for philosophical reasons, which trickle into the political scene."
"The Dusties believe that every berk out there's already dead. That somehow the dead are more alive than us and that if the living become more like the dead by ridding themselves of passions, they'll go on to True Death... which is, I guess, Life? I don't really get them too well; it seems like they're my faction's philosophy inverted. I know they're probably the oldest faction, though. Them, the Bleakers and another faction, the Doomguard tend to align into a trifecta of Entropy in the Hall of Speakers. The Xaositects are another chaos faction: they hold the Hive and just act barmy because they think Chaos is the foundation of existence. The Revolutionary League are the last chaotic faction: they want to overthrow power structures and dissolve systems of belief. They mostly operate in secret because most factions hate 'em. I wouldn't doubt that they have spies in most of the other thought guilds."
"I could probably go on all day about who knows what and who believes which, but it's a lot to absorb. The thing to remember, though: factions aren't about "good guys" and "bad guys". The factions are organized groups with a common belief or philosophy, but that doesn't mean a common morality. It's just about how you see the Planes and how a sod fits into them. Belief out here is power, which is what sets Sigil and the Outer Planes apart from the Prime. And sometimes believing something is so will lead to it actually being so."
Nari listened intently, she seemed eager to learn more about her new home. Watching her, She seemed to decide that Isaac fit in the 'not scary' category, which I guess meant that currently everyone at the breakfast table counted as not scary. She relaxed more than she usually did in a public place, actually looking up at people when they spoke, and even smiling now and then.
Nari gave Seph a grateful smile. She seemed to relax just a little. She reached out to touch his head tentatively, and Seph leaned into the ear scratch, just as he did when he was still pretending to be a normal kitten.
"Thank you for explaining that to me," she says politely to Isaac. When she isn't trying to hide or barely able to talk through her nervousness, it was like speaking to a completely different person.
Yes. I was making mental notes.
About halfway through Issac's explanation, I had picked up my backpack, and my jaw, and joined the others. I had quietly asked for a plate of steak and eggs and an ale, and munched a roll while listening to Issac's speech. I paid attention as if I was expecting a quiz later. Not only was this very useful information, but it helped distract me from the other elephant in the room. Or in this case, cat. Kitten.
Whatever.
When the ranger finished I nodded thoughtfully.
"Sounds like the factions all oppose each other with a passion from what little I've seen. I'm surprised that there aren't more outright conflicts because of it. Is it true that's because of the intercession of the Lady?" I asked curiously.
Now, Karrin has been listening to the conversation at the table (to the best of her ability) but eating food apparently takes a lot of concentration. Also (she told me once) her father had repeatedly told her not to talk with her mouth full and it seems people around here felt the same way . . . but how could you have a conversation and eat at the same time if you couldn't talk with your mouth full? She said 'It was another of life's great Mysteries.' Yes, she said it with a capitol 'M'.
"I asked about this lady once before," Karrin says to me after quickly swallowing her food, "but I think someone got confused, she's like the big boss of Sigil right? Really powerful and stuff, but I don't know any more then that."
Wow. And SHE had been here HOW much longer than me?!? No one in Sigil gives away SQUAT for free. I had learned more in the last few minutes at the table than I had in the last 6 months in the city.
Isaac nodded, "Aye, that's the Dark of it, though saying she's the boss isn't quite it. The Lady isn't nearly so direct. Ever seen a dabus? The floating men with the little horns that talk in symbols? The Lady made them to keep Sigil in the shape She likes. Yah ever wonder why the Powers don't just march on Sigil in force and take it? Whole city of portals could be quite a prize, right? The Lady of Pain keeps them out, somehow. Which is why they have to send Proxies, mortal servants, if they want a presence here. Beyond that, Her attention is never benevolent."
The Half-Elf leans in conspiratorially, his voice hushed.
"Justin's got the right of it when he says She keeps the factions in check. No matter how powerful the factions get, they've got to at least play civil while in Sigil. When She steps in directly, some leatherheads are about to get Lost. A berk gets too big for his britches, or if She just decides that they're too dangerous to Sigil itself to walk the streets, She sends them to the Mazes. One day a berk's walking to his kip like he always does but the street bends wrong, right? Old Copperman Way might not take him where it's supposed to and he's caught, Mazed. Whole factions have gotten Mazed before, you tumble to that? There's always a way out, which is what drives 'em barmy while they're in there, but few ever make it out again. And listen, because this might save your sodding life (not that I think any of you are Clueless enough to try it, but better safe than sorry): the Lady of Pain is not a Power. Don't ever worship Her, don't ever sing Her praises, don't ever try to get Her attention. Leatherheads doing that end up in Her shadow, cut to ribbons without Her ever lifting a finger. If your luck goes so sour that you end up peeping Her down the street, you run for your sodding life."
"Sound like the whole damn place is run by a tyrant. One who pretends she 'aint one and everybody's so busy pissin' their pants they just play along." Drazek interjects loudly, slamming a drink onto the table before he plops in a chair to join us.
Nari shrank back into herself, once more extremely wary of her surroundings as one of the people she hasn't classified as not scary joined the group. I can't really blame her. I almost jumped myself.
Granted I had been engrossed in Issaac's narrative, but I had no warning Drazek was there before he announced himself. Like him or not, Draz was one sneaky, spooky-arse b@$tard when he wanted to be.
Isaac raised an eyebrow, "Might be, at that. Pretty light for a tyrant, though. Any fiend, celestial or Prime can come and go as they please so long as they know the portals. The day-to-day running is done by the factions from the Hall of Speakers and the Lady don't show a preference. But believe me, She don't factor into every day life. A berk's much more likely to get scragged by a troupe of Hardheads or put in the deadbook by some Chaosmen than have any truck with the Lady."
Here, Isaac gently pats Nari on the shoulder and offers some encouraging words, breaking from Elven abruptly once or twice with some Cager cant in the Planar Trade language. Of course I speak Elvish. It's one of the first languages required at the academy. (If you can't wrap your mind and tongue around those elvish curlicues, you'll never manage more than a cantrip.) But as Isaac was obviously trying to help Nari get over her insecurities, and it seemed like a private moment, I didn't let on that I understood. For once I kept my mouth shut by doing my best Karrin imitation with my remaining food.
Isaac: (Elven:) "You're doing well. Just take it one step at a time and everything's Mr. Tinker; if you can get used to Sigil, you can get used to anyplace. Let me know if you have any questions. I'm not the most well-lanned cutter around, but I can give you the straight chant."
Nari smiled up at him gratefully.
(Elven): “Thank you, Isaac. You'll probably be sick of my questions by tomorrow, but it helps to feel a little less lost.”
While they spoke Elvish, I wiped up the last of the remains of my eggs with a biscuit, popped it into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. I washed it down with a mouthful of ale and pointed my near-empty mug at Drazek.
"Be that as it may, I don't plan on attracting her attention if I can help it. I'm sure she's called the 'Lady of Pain' for a reason. And I'm not in a hurry to find out why. Anyway, unless she has something to do with Eli specifically, or disappearing crazy people in general, I doubt we'll have reason to worry about her. At least today." I added hopefully.
"Speaking of today, what else do we have to follow up on besides meeting with the original client and hoping he's willing to give us more info than previously?"
"I was thinking last night, and I thought I saw a connection,... and then I fell asleep." I admitted sheepishly.
"And when I woke up I was,... Um,... distracted. But there is definitely something that we found out yesterday that is bugging me. It's tickling the back of my mind. And when I put my finger on it,..." I snorted, snagged another roll and took a large bite, chewing thoughtfully under furrowed brows.
The group finished up a large breakfast with sausage, fried potatoes, fresh bread and a host of other wonderful treats. Renkar had left word that Gedrak Ironfist would be showing at the fourth hour Before Peak (About mid-morning or so by 'Prime Daylight' reckoning) so there was little rush. A crowd of early peak workmen and merchants crowded the common room, clamoring for Bess' tucker.
As we were chatting and watching Karrin polish off everything the rest of us couldn't, Bethany came through the front door of the Cauldron looking decidedly worse for wear. She took a seat close to, but not with, the rest of us and tried to force down some breakfast. With questionable results.
After breakfast, the group exits the warm inn for the quick walk to the Silver Rose. (Swift stays behind in the Cauldron.) The day is rainy, like many are in the Cage, and the brown water soaks into everyone's clothes as we sprint down Copper Court. Bethany flew above erratically, muttering thanks to the 'Winged Lord' as she landed for it being such a short distance away. The office was open and we found Renkar and Hanali chatting in the exercise room. Renkar smiled at everyone and gestured for us to be at ease.
"Ser Ironfist will be here shortly. I do advise you all to be circumspect when dealing with him. He is a temperamental dwarf, and we are working for him." Renkar reminded us.
I stuck my tongue firmly in my cheek at that. I reasoned that Renkar had already figured out what kind of personalities he had collected. I nodded obligingly.
Hanging back from the others, Bethany leaned against the wall for support, slowly regaining the use of her faculties.
Drazek nodded and stepped back towards a shadowed corner of the room near where Bethany sat against the wall, nursing her hangover. He didn't exactly manage to hide the grin on his face. (I'm pretty sure he wasn't trying too hard.)
Bethany scowled at Drazek as he moved near her, but her heart (Or maybe it was her stomach?) wasn't up for a confrontation right then (not to mention her head I'm sure!) and so she resumed her task of holding up the wall. She caught Drazek's smile, and judging by her narrowed gaze, was making a mental note to teach 'the Shadow' some manners regarding his betters at some point in the future. (Knowing Beth, I was betting on the NEAR future!)
Isaac just nods and takes a seat. "Aye-aye, boss, ye'll not hear any back talk from me." He said cheerily.
The rest of us followed his example. More or less cheerily. Nari finding a seat far away from the intimidating harpy and did her level best to appear invisible. Again. Girl was like a jack in the box.
After a bit of chit-chat there is a knocking on the door. Hanali goes to open it and returns with a short figure dressed in chainmail and carrying a large Dwarven waraxe. The dwarf is dark haired and bearded, with a scattering of grey hairs in both. The many scars on his face and visible skin speak of experience on the battlefield. He looks about and mutters gruffly.
"Right. I'm here Renkar. What have yeh found out about Eliath?"
Renkar nods and introduced Gedrack to the rest of us.
"Good Peak to you Gedrak. Can I offer you some coffee? No? Very well. Straight to business.”
"I will allow my operatives to describe what they have found out so far, and perhaps ask you for some information on Eliath to facilitate their mission."
I gave a small smile to the dwarf when introduced, but otherwise sat back, letting the more charming members of the group have the first words. (Hey, I KNOW my strengths, OK? MY particular talents run more towards ANNOYING people. When that time comes, I'll be the FIRST to speak up. Promise.) I observed everything carefully, and thought about the best questions to ask the dwarf, that we might actually get an answer to,...
Annnnnnd, Cue Isaac the Charming Half-Elf;
"Well, Ser Ironfist, we split up to search the Hive for your friend yesterday and it seems the Dustmen have him logged in the deadbook since eight peaks ago. They say he's been cremated. But we have other theories. Karrin lead a group to the Gatehouse to see if he had been interred with the Bleakers and they said that barmies have been disappearing from the streets. That very evening in the Hive, a barmy hit the Blinds in a way that leaves no marks on the body. The Chaosmen they spoke to spread the chant that it's become common lately to find the poor sods in such a state."
"Couple that with the fact that Toranna, the Dustman in charge of logging the deaders, knew Eliath as "Barmy Eli" from her Collectors almost off the top of her brain-box and we're getting the notion that there are some further darks on your mate and his whereabouts which don't involve a one way trip through a furnace."
Isaac pauses a breath or two to let Ironfist absorb everything.
"Now, so far we've only got a few sparse leads to follow but we were hoping that you could give us some further chant on Eliath: who his friends were, where he called kip, if he had any enemies, things like that so that the next time we meet we'll have some more substantial chant for you."
Ironfist frowns as Issac makes his pitch. He clearly didn't want to give up any secrets.
"Yeh've got teh understand I don't know the berk all that well. I hired him for a service, he was taking my jink to look up some darks in places I don't have access to. My theory is he got brainsnatched by a booktrap when he read the wrong page somewhere. I don't know if anyone was tryin' to pen him in the dead book. Alls I know is he was last seen wanderin' around the Hive barmier than a Spire god.."
I unintentionally perked up at the mention that Eli was doing research for the dwarf. NOW we were talking my language!
'Now, THAT'S interesting!' I thought with a smirk as I reflexively leaned forward in my chair to address Ironfist.
"Well. It must be pretty important information he was researching for you if you suspect a braintrap. A lot of mystics are paranoid about protecting their secrets. But very few bother to protect with a spelltrap something that can be found somewhere else anyway. If you can tell us what he was researching for you, and where, that might help us to understand what happened to him exactly. Why he suddenly went crazy,... er, Barmy." I corrected myself.
"We, might, even be able to help you with your research." I added as an afterthought with a quick glance at Renkar. "I presume that you were looking for him because his research was incomplete, and you wanted what he had managed to gather for your coins. I'm a fair hand at research myself. If you can tell us what you're looking for, it may also help us with locating Eli for you."
"Of course, that may require further negotiations," I added, probably too hastily, with a deferential nod to Renkar. "As research was not included in the original reason we were hired. But again, the more we understand about what Eli was doing, the better chance we have of finding out what actually happened to him."
Ironfist stared at me for a moment, then laughed.
"Well yeh've got a set of brass ones, that's for sure."
The dwarf leans back in his chair and looks me over. I did my best to look research-y.
"No offense cutter, but Eliath had keys to some very guarded doors. He's a top shelf sage an' he charged a dear bit o'jink for his services. As to what he was searchin' for ... well, I'm an adventurer, I came across summat while exploring a dim corner of the planes. I wanted to know more, an' I hired Eliath, whom I'd done business with before. Anything more than that and I'm giving you darks I gave blood and jink to uncover."
I gave the dwarf a good-natured smirk. (At least I hoped it looked good-natured. I was really aiming for 'sincere smile', but sometimes my snark gets stuck on full.)
"No offense taken. But you can't blame a, blood, for trying." I replied casually. "And brass or otherwise, anything that you CAN tell us might help us uncover what happened. I'm not after your secrets sir, I'm just trying to unravel this mystery."
Isaac interjected smoothly, "Fair enough Ser Ironfist. Could you tell us if you were referred to Eliath by another sage or adventurer? Where did you first meet him? Did he strike you as addle-coved the last time you spoke to him face-to-face?"
"Did you give the sage the key?" Karrin asks absentmindedly, "because if he opened the door himself he might of inadvertently let something in . . ."
Karrin again seemed to be looking into her axe as she speaks. The blue glow from the crystal baths her face.
Ironfist looks askance at the absentminded Karrin and looks as if he's about to say something, then thinks better of it. The dwarf sighs with a frown.
"A blood I knew referred me to him five cycles ago. He helped me find the location of a tomb me an' my crew wanted a look at over in Acheron. Since then I've used him on occasion when there were deep darks to uncover. That berk knows how to lann the chant. He's a member of several private libraries, including the Society of the Luminiferous Aether. "
Ironfist shifts and taps a stubby finger to his large bulbous nose thoughtfully.
"He always struck me as a bit barmy, but he spent his days reading dusty tomes an' debating points of history with his bloods. He didn't seem like the type to go wandering down to the Gatehouse looking for a cot. He seemed as normal as I'd ever seen him last time I palavered with him."
I smiled, "I'm sure that your observations of Elaith's sanity are accurate. Any good researcher learns that the key to holding onto your sanity while poring over dusty tomes is the ability to have a good conversation with oneself." I assured the dwarf.
"Obviously he weren't all that good at it," Drazek slowly steps from the shadows. "You want to know 'bout dark corners, you come to the right place."
Yeah. So much for 'Circumspect'. I managed not to facepalm myself. But it took an extreme effort.
Ironfist starts at the menacing form of Drazek. Apparently he hadn't noticed him there until now. His hand twitches towards his axe, then relaxes. He scowls,... "Renkar, what's wi' this?"
Ironfist turns to Drazek, disbelief warring with incredulity on his grizzled features.
"Yeh saying yeh can get access to more darks than Eliath? Or are yeh jest playing big dog in tha park? I don't have time for petty games."
Draz snorted, ( I swear he snorted shadows. Seriously.)
"Do I look like I gotta play at bein' big dog? People in this room got more skills than any 20 o' them fools outside put together. Rankar only works with the best."
Bethany remained quiet through all of this. She was slowly starting to regain some of her former poise and demeanour, but clearly wanted to play it cool. That and I suspect that a lot of the language being used is new to her and taking her some time to decipher. Blood, Chant, Dark... it's like she's going to have to lean a whole new language just to communicate with everyone. Ah yes. I knew the feeling well.
Ironfist scowls at Drazek, and I'll bet the dwarf could give the warlock a few lessons in scowling.
"I'll tell yeh what me foine researcher. I'll give you a name: The Isle of Black Trees. It's what I was after, any darks on that. If yeh find me any chant on it, I'll make it worth yer while." He snapped gruffly.
Ironfist relaxed a bit after telling Drazek the name. The tension drained out of his axe-holding arm, and my shoulders.
"I really don't have much else. If I did, I'd have lanned yeh the dark of it by now, there's no reason fer me ta hold anything back. I HIRED yeh to find him, after all. I ain't out ta make the job tougher. If yon 'researcher' who looks more like a combat warlock ta me wants to try researchin' the name, be me guest."
Heh. The dwarf was experienced. I was starting to actually like the gruff Ser Ironfist.
Ironfist looks to Renkar. "If yeh don't have aught else fer me I have things to attend to."
Renkar nods, gets up and escorts him to the door, chatting politely.
I smiled "Thank you for your assistance sir. We appreciate your time."
I bowed my head politely to the dwarf as Renkar escorted him out. Then I rubbed my freshly-trimmed goatee as I pondered the names,... 'Isle of Black Trees' and 'Society of the Luminiferous Aether'.
I'd never heard of the 'Isle of Black Trees', obviously. Not surprising If Ironfist had to hire a high-profile Sage to research it for him. It wasn't going to be mentioned in 'Boccob's Guide to Magical Knicknacks'' or Megalister's 'Why Have Friends When You Can Have Minions?'.
The 'Society of the Luminiferous Aether' though, I HAD heard of. As Ironfist had mentioned it was a private library, sort of a gentlewizard's club. One of hundreds such clubs in Sigil. But also one of the mere dozens that was rumored to actually be worth the price of entry. It was on my list of clubs to try and get into, once I managed to scrape together enough coins and magical artifacts to apply for admission. If there was a way back home for me in Sigil, I figured I'd have to find it myself. And an exclusive library full of rare magical tomes, adventurer's notebooks and otherworldly artifacts would be IMMENSELY helpful.
I noticed that Isaac had grimaced as if he'd eaten something sour when Ironfist mentioned Acheron, but didn't say anything. He listened along with the rest of the group and offered a farewell when the dwarf took his leave.
Isaac leans forward as Renkar and Ironfist exit the room,
"If Ironfist is to be believed (and I don't doubt it, personally) his missing friend was a top-shelf spellcaster with some serious jink to throw around. Definitely not the type of barmy to look for a cot in the Gatehouse. The Society for the Luminiferous Aether is a good lead on our victim: closed club for top-shelf greybeards, he had to be sponsored to get in so there's at least one blood that knows him and someone there likely knows where his case was. Combine that with combing the Hive for the chant on our mysterious Barmy Killer and we're bound to turn up some deeper darks."
Naridre's crystal (currently hanging about her neck as if it were an ordinary necklace), glowed briefly. Then she spoke softly to Isaac in Elvish once more.
(Elvish:)"Not to be contentious, Isaac," she said softly, "but his previous position has no bearing on possible loss of sanity. My teacher was one of the most powerful psionicists on Shalon, and yet he is currently occupying a cot in the Gatehouse, incapable of manifesting the simplest power. Diseases of the mind do not care what you used to be. However, that this killer was willing to strike at someone whose connections are powerful and likely to still be around...That is very concerning." (/Elvish)
Nari continued in common, "It's possible that whoever 'killed' Eli was unaware of his connections. Or believed that their own were so powerful they had no reason to fear retribution from his. We should be careful." Her words were quiet and hesitant, and she was obviously uncomfortable speaking in the presence of so many people.
Isaac responded again in a pidgin blend of Elven and Cager cant. (Which was making my head hurt, but was also good practice for me.)
(Elven:) "Of course, you're right, Nari (is it okay if I call you that?). Between you and me, everyone in the Cage is halfway to barmy as it is, you tumble to that? All I'm saying is that something had to push him over and one of the trig greybeards at the Society has to have the chant on how he wound up where he is and if there were any personal vendettas against him. And I'm right sorry to hear about your teacher in the Gatehouse. Hope you haven't taken what I say about barmies too personal-like." (/Elvish)
Isaac continued in Common, "The Society could get us the dark of it. We can at least figure out if anyone knew how high-up he was. If we can rule out a personal attack, our Barmy Killer becomes our focus. Besides, one of their own goes barmy and disappears they've got to take an interest."
Naridre replied in Elvish again, looking as if she wished she could hide in shadows like Drazek.
(Elvish:) “I don't mind the nickname. And I understand you meant no offense with your comments about barmies. It's just not as easy to take lightly when you've had to deal with it up close and personal.” (/Elvish)
"What if it was both a personal attack and the person who is killing 'barmies'? Perhaps he stumbled on a secret that they did not wish to have shared. And yes, one can hope that this Society would help us." Naridre finished again in common for the benefit of the rest of the group.
Isaac smiled kindly at the elf lass, (Elvish:) "Aye, living in the Cage has made me a little less thoughtful than I should be. I'll watch it in the future." (/Elvish)
Merle watched the exchange between Isaac and Naridre like, well, a cat with a ball. Probably wishing that she had bothered to pay attention when her parents were trying to teach her Elven. I smirked a little. On the inside.
Bethany pipes up from the back, finally feeling up to contributing to the conversation.
"I think the Society is a good place to start. Someone there might know what Eliath was up to and be able to inform us of his movements. At the very least we should get an idea of his character and stability."
I snorted at Lady Bethany's declaration, but managed to turn it into a cough as her imperious gaze snapped my way. I was likely saved a Harpy tongue-lashing by Isaac's fortuitous input.
"Aye. The Society is near me old kip in the Lower Ward and on the way to the Hive. We can rattle our bone boxes there, then hit the soup kitchens and sodhouses in the Hive for the chant on our barmy killer. Maybe see if we can find a good neutral ground to trade the chant with the Chaosman the lot of you met the other cycle."
"I seriously doubt that these wizards, or library, are going to be TOO willing to share too many details. Especially on something that a private member was working on.” I pointed out. “But we can hope that if we emphasize that we are trying to find out what happened to one of their members, and not trying to steal his research, that they'll be willing to help us. A little. Maybe."
I shrugged and looked around at the others. They likely thought I was smirking, (to be fair, I do that a lot!) but I was feeling far more bemused than superior at the moment.
"A few lucky friends and Private Memberships aside, we aren't usually the most, 'sharesy', of people." I added, waggling my eyebrows for emphasis.
So, we finished up our palaver with Ironfist and decided to take a stroll out to the Society of the Lumineferous Aether to see what's what.
The day approaches its Peak, but you wouldn't know it. A sheet of soot-stained rain pelts down from the cloud-choked sky, wetting everyone. Hopping from canopy to canopy, the group attempts to stay dry and head out to Copperman Way.
The thoroughfare is choked, as on any day no matter the weather. Drovers whip their beasts of burden, cursing the puddles and the foot traffic. The street merchants hawk their wares, oblivious to the rain. The more desperate jinkskirts do as well, trying to cast alluring looks at the crowd while their hairdos melt in the downpour.
Crossing the border to the Lady's Ward, the group heads into the Noble District. The crowd assumes a more wealthy cast, and umbrellas and canopies held by servants shield the mercantile nobility from the Cage's watery sluicing. The road becomes much more navigable as potholes disappear and storm drains sluice the worst of the downpour into the vast sewers of the Cage.
The Court District is busy at the Peak hour. The courts seem to have taken lunch, and the many inns and taverns are packed with Guvners, Takers, Mercykillers and Harmonium grabbing a bite to eat. The fantastical carved downspouts on the many large monumental buildings pour out rainwater the color of weak tea on the sidewalks.
Entering the Temple District, the crowds lessen a bit. It seems rain keeps the parishioners inside the temples. A group of massively tattooed athletic-looking men and women dressed in skimpy checked loincloths stomp and chant in front of a temple entrance shaped like a shark's open jaws. Their rhythmic stomping carries above the hiss of rain droplets.
Dajobas Mulalai CAH! Dajobas Nuurami JAH!
The group moves on, vaguely disquieted by the display, and the overlarge mouths of the dancers.
Just past Bloodgem Park, barely over the edge of the Lower Ward's Swordhold District, a triangular plot bounded by three major roads sits. Atop this plot is a large edifice with several towers jutting from its roofpeak. The building is large, and seems to have grown over the years rather than been planned and built as one structure. Issac says that this is the Society of the Lumineferous Aether's kip. There is a large half-moon double door incised with runes on it's periphery where the building fronts Doomguard Walk. A small sign attached to the marble stones surrounding the large door reads:
Society of the Lumineferous Aether, gentleman's library and arcane club. Members Only.
Below that sign a smaller one reads:
Deliveries to the Smith Street entrance please.
The door has a large knocker shaped like a griffon's head. Very classy. I need to get one of those one day.
As we approached the doorway, Karrin must have had an idea, she lit up like a Winterfest tree and pointed at the ornate doorway before us.
"What if our missing friend was researching a doorway, and it was located in the hive, and what if our friend thought that appearing crazy could get him places that a sane person couldn't get? I mean that might explain the sudden switch in behavior right? I mean I'm not real smart but if he was really crazy you'd think he'd have been crazy elsewhere before going to the hive right? I mean you don't go wonky and then automatically appear in the hive right? Someone has ta take you there and stuff. So if we're gonna be asking about our missing friend we'd better find out when he went bonkers and if it was conveniently timed or not."
Isaac shrugged. "Could well be. Only one way to figure it out..."
He knocks on the door three times at a measured pace.
"Hey, Merle, Justin: maybe you want to stick close on this? Might be good to have some cutters that can cut through the screed with the old 'terms of the trade', tumble to that?"
Merle raises a furry eyebrow and her voice takes on a slightly haughty, arrogant tone. "Do you honestly think I have something in common with a bunch of stuffy old guys? This is probably more Justin's thing." She declares stiffly.
"Thanks. I think," I replied deadpan.
"Heh" Drazek chuckles at Merle's indignance, and glances over at the quiet Bethany. "Thunderstorm done kickin' 'round yer head yet?"He asked the harpy in an almost polite tone.
Bethany looks down her nose at the creepy man. "I am feeling fine now, thank you. Remind me never to let Isaac buy drinks for me again without first knowing what it is I'm getting." She adds wryly.
She turns to the door and peers up at it as Isaac knocks loudly. She seemed to be studying the Runes around the doorway.
Seph, seeing Merle go into what he used to call stuck up mode (Although not to her face) Gives a small groan and the rest of the group are treated to the sight of a cat facepalming. (or facepawing in this case)
Isaac retorts to Merle with heavy sarcasm.
"Do I think you have something in common with a bunch of stuffy old guys? Hmm, let me think, oh! Wait! One thing: Magic, heard of it? We ain't just begging for darks, here, Merle: you got a chance to meet with some well-lanned greybeards at the Society. Some high-up bloods with a lot of magic at their disposal? Bloods that may have seen a case like your brother's before? It's worth sodding meeting them, isn't it?"
Merle doesn't respond, but her tail puffs up to twice its original size.
Isaac's fist booms on the door again. Judging by the echoes the place was impressive on the inside. The runes engraved in the golden metal ring surrounding the dark brass-bound entry glowed ever so faintly. A peephole opens about seven feet up and a large milky white eye peers out at Issac. An inhuman basso voice booms out:
"What's yer business at this door ?"
Isaac clears his throat. "We seek information about Eliath, a member of the Society that has recently disappeared."
The basso voice booms out again without hesitation.
"Go talk to the Hardheads if yeh want to rattle yer bonebox about a missing person. This is a private club 'ere."
I covered my mouth with my hand, and sing-sang Sotto Voice. I told you so,... to Naridre, who started to smile, then looked panicked about it. I decided I would figure her out someday.
Isaac seems taken aback for a moment before replying in a voice that rises in volume for the benefit of passers-by.
"Ah, of course. Should have known you wouldn't have any information, especially about one of yer own members running off barmy into the Hive 'cause of his sodding research. You wouldn't care anything about that and I'm sure those brilliant professionals in the Harmonium will keep their lips shut that the Society for the Luminiferous Aether can't keep track of their own sodding members for all their exclusive airs. C'mon cutters, let's rattle our boneboxes like the magic talking eye said."
I shivered once, I couldn't tell if Isaac was being snarky, or sarcastic, or both. But he seemed to make an impression on the (presumably) large, scary-eyed doorman. The voice growls, the sound like a grouchy bear.
”Quit yer caterwaulin' berk. Where's yer card, I'll give it to usher inside.”
At this I reached for a pocket inside my coat. I murmured briefly as my finger traced a pattern on the card in my pocket. I stepped forward and hand the card through the tiny window to the door,... person(?),... creature(?),... being(?) behind it.
"Whenever it's convenient, of course." I said pleasantly, with a smile that said all is fine and dandy. And an eyebrow that said it will remain that way as long as convenience isn't kept waiting too long. The tiny window snapped shut almost before the card was all the way through.
"Your welcome." I replied wryly to the shuttered window. I turned to the others. "Just one of my cards. With a small spell on it. Just to let them know that there is a wizard involved." I took another look at the hodge-podge architecture of the sprawling building. "Other than a full-scale assault, I can't think of another way to get them to let us in." I admitted. I was thinking that if I were in charge of an exclusive magic club, that's the first thing I'd do if I were screening would-be visitors, make sure they could work magic!
A few minutes pass as the group sheltered under the wide canopy over the door. Bethany tugged Merle and myself slightly aside, (as much as the small sheltered porch would allow.) while we waited. She spoke with us about the Runes on the door and their function, (an anti-scrying spell and a summoning spell specifically) and warned us to be wary of the summoning one. She admitted later she herself was wary of it after her own mishap with a summoned creature.
Being wary of Merle's current state of mind, and Bethany's normal demeanor, I humbly (for me!) ventured the opinion that the Summoning Wards around the entry seemed to be orientated as a barrier. They were most likely intended to prevent any accidental (or intentional) summonings from escaping the premises. They could also have have been defensive measures against an intrusion by any summoned creature. I was aware at the time of at least one moderately powerful spell that conjures an invisible creature for one service of defined mischief, from simple theft to outright murder, that is extremely difficult to stop. Heck, it could have been a defensive ward that conjured beings to defend the place if attacked. I must admit that it was, at the moment, a little above my pay grade.
A few minutes pass as the group shelters under the wide canopy over the door.
The door suddenly rattles and one leaf swings in. A tall,grey-skinned creature stands in the doorway. Fully seven-feet plus, the creature has a large pitbull-like jaw, long pointed ears and a balding brain box that comes to a distinct point. Milky white eyes without pupils rake the group. The thing's skin is streaked with rivulets of black gooey tar. A long-taloned hand gestures to the group.
”You can come in. Follow me.”
Isaac, Karrin and I exchanged glances, shrugged as one, and followed him inside. The rest of the group followed. Nari all but hiding behind Karrin, even her enthusiastic Psi-crystal seemed subdued and Nari looked more terrified than usual as we entered. Both Bethany and Drazek dropped to the rear of the group, Drazek smirked and tipped an imaginary hat, allowing the harpy to enter before him.
The creature leads the group into a corridor and to another door similar to the outside one. It knocks and this door opens to reveal a grey-haired human. The man wears a dark blue robe with various runes embroidered into it. The material is unlike anything I have seen before. The runes seem to dance and shift as if made of light. The robe is belted by a golden sash with a strange sigul that looks like a flame on it. Three gems are embedded into the man's forehead. I'm not certain, but I THINK they are Ioun Stones.
The man clearly looks like an arcane caster, but several scars and a certain squint to his eye point to some combat casting experience. The man gives the group a tight smile and speaks with deliberate politeness.
"Welcome to the Society of the Lumineferous Aether. I am Talesar. How may I be of assistance?"
Isaac smiled at the man. "Glad to meet ya, Talesar, we'll try not to take up too much of your time. Name's Isaac, I'll let my comrades make their own introductions. We're of the Silver Rose company and we're looking into a greybeard that supposedly went barmy and got penned in the deadbook, though we have our doubts as to whether that's the straight chant. Does the name Eliath ring a bell? He was a member of the Society until he lost his mind and wandered into the Hive and we were hoping you could give us some idea about his state of mind in the last several cycles."
The blue-robed man nods, while there was no obvious change, he seemed to relax just a little.
"Please, come with me, we can palaver in one of the parlors. This way please."
Talesar leads us into a richly-paneled hallway, calling back over his shoulder.
"Resume your vigil Gamnesto."
The tarry creature shuts the door behind the party. Not creepy at all.
Ahead of us, Talesar opens a door that leads to a nicely appointed study. Three of its walls are lined top to bottom with books, one wall is filled with scrolls fitted in neatly-labled holes. A mahogany table and several plushly-upholstered chairs are arranged by a hearth with a lively fire going. Several statues accent the room, many of them of extraplanar subjects. He waves to the table.
"Please, be seated. Would you care for a hot beverage? It is indeed a damp day out there. Allow me."
He mutters and our clothes are suddenly all dry.
"There. " He nods.
After taking requests for drinks a tray floats into the room carrying the requested beverages and sets them down in front of the requesters.
A few of the group take the opportunity to introduce themselves. Talesar sips a coffee-based drink and looks about, nodding at the introductions.
"A pleasure to meet you Lady Barer. Are you perchance from the Greatclaw Clan? I once traveled in their domain for several months, a splendid noble folk." Talesar asks politely.
"I'm afraid not. My parents weren't really affiliated with any clans or such. Mostly just kept to themselves in their old tower." Merle replied darkly enough for Talesar to get the hint that Merle's parent's weren't her favorite subject. The wizard simply nods and turns to the rest of us.
"Which one of you is Justin Case? I assume you are a caster from your card.”
OK, I admit, I had so focused on the unusual tarry doorman that for a minute I didn't even appreciate the interior of the building. As we were being ushered into the lavish waiting room, (I later discovered it was one of the SMALLEST rooms in the club.) I made up for lost time by trying to stare intently at everything, everywhere. At the same time. I was getting whiplash.
When the gentleman dried us off and presents us with refreshments, I finally managed, with an extreme effort of will, to bring myself back to the conversation.
"Hm? Oh, yes, That's me. Sorry. Justin Case, Wizard, traveler and trouble shooter." I said with a smile and a polite nod to our host, waggling my fingers. "Sorry, I was just admiring your club. The wealth of knowledge in this room alone is impressive. That is a a Suelese scroll with the gold endcaps? And I don't recognize the material of the cover on this book, but the runes bear an amazing resemblance to those of an island civilization that sank on my own world. And is that an Haverwand's translation of Sserpentine Casstings and Craftingss? Fantastic. Of course I prefer Silverspell's translations personally, his prose is a little less, stuffy, don't you find?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
Talesar smiles at my enthusiasm.
"I believe you are right on the scroll's provenance. As for the Haverwand, I find him a bit too literal in the translation of the Yuan-ti Draconic derivatives myself. Translations need to have a bit of creative synergy to really capture the nuances of the original, don't you agree? I can't help you with the runes on that one, it seems to be a variant of Olman sacred hieroglpyhs from Oerth."
He shrugged. "Of course, this room holds works of lesser import, all the really important codexes are farther in."
Isaac coughed gently, and brought us back to the reason for the visit.
“What is this I hear you speak of Eliath, Ser Issac?" Talesar looks at Issac.
"Our client told us that Eliath was recently spotted in the Hive, barmy as a bedbug. After rattling our bone boxes, one of the Dead at the Mortuary told us he had been penned in the deadbook eight peaks past and was brought in by a Collector. We thought the chant was wash, though, so we're looking for some better darks, see if there's more to Eliath's disappearance. Our client told us he was a member of your prestigious society here and we were hoping you would be able to tell us about his mental state while he was here, if he had any enemies, things like that." Isaac explains.
Switching mental gears away from fascinating manuscripts, I added helpfully,
"What we were hoping that you could help us with mainly is a description of Eli's usual behavior, and if anyone noticed anything unusual from that when he was last seen here. And,..." here I smiled, as sincerely and sympathetically as I could, for I know what at least the initial response to my next question was going to be. ",...We were hoping that we might be able to take a quick look at the tomes he was researching."
I quickly hold up my hands in a peaceful gesture and hastily continued. "We already know what he was working on, and I'm certain that there are probably multiple rules against it, But we're not looking to finish his research without paying the appropriate fees, dues and respect. All we want is to ascertain if he may have accidentally set off an unnoticed defensive spell on a work he was perusing. Particularly one that may have left him brain-addled or mind-trapped."
"And we wouldn't expect you to allow us ALL to handle your tomes. Or to examine them unsupervised. But if you would allow me and my two associates," I indicated the harpy and the feline behind me, "to examine them for any indication of a spelltrap or curse, we would be most grateful." I finished with my most charming smile. Which probably actually works on the ladies. Most of the time. Sort of. Shut Up.
Talesar turns to Issac,
"Eliath was known to me, in a professional manner. He was a regular here, he was a member in good standing, but a bit of an odd duck. He wasn't a puissant arcanist as many of us are, he was purely a researching sage. I can't recall anyone who is a member ever saying anything against him. He was masterful at his profession, I used his services myself upon occasion. While I haven't seen him for weeks, that is not all that unusual. We members tend to be a quiet lot, and we pursue our studies independently of each others company for the most part. We don't keep records of who comes and goes, but when you all depart I can ask Gamnesto if he remembers when last he passed the front door."
Talesar pauses thoughtfully.
"I can tell you that he was known to stay in a kip near the Hall of Records. Let me write down the address."
He pulls a small piece of cream-colored vellum, a quill and some ink from a pocket. He scribbles down an address in tight, neat script.
Falanna's Boarding House, Scrivner's Court, off Scholars Row, Hall of Records District, Clerk's Ward.
"This was the address I would contact him at when I needed some research done."
He pauses, looks at me, and puts an apologetic look on his face.
"I am afraid that club rules dictate that no one other than a member or a supervised guest can peruse our library. I'm sure you can understand our position on this matter. However, I can assure you that no book in our collection has any sort of braintrap put on it. All books we archive are thoroughly vetted by our club council. Wards are unnecessary here, and we neutralize any set within the books themselves, or clearly mark them if erasing them would compromise the work.."
Talesar looks about and sips his enhanced coffee.
"I will say that Eliath was known to have memberships in several private libraries. We are just the most prestigious he utilized. Even we do not claim to have every arcane tome. One of the reasons I used his services is that he was a genius at discovering obscure information no one else could seem to ferret out."
Talesar looks about the party again,
"While we are very solicitous of our member's privacy, I would appreciate it if perhaps you good cutters could appraise me of your findings as to Eliath's whereabouts. He is an excellent scholar, and an asset to our Society. I will leave word with Gamnesto our doorman to fetch me whenever you get definitive information on him."
I merely nodded as our host gives the expected reply regarding examining the the works.
"Of course sir. As I expected, but in the interest of thoroughness had to ask." I smiled.
"We had heard that he was top-notch at what he did. I'm glad that you can verify that much at least. Unfortunately the unlikeliness of a missed spelltrap or any known enemies leaves us rather where we came in at."
I accept the address and thank him again. After a quickly glancing at it myself I hand it to Isaac who nods as he recognizes the location.
I salute Talesar with my beverage (a most excellent coffee drink I hadn't had before), "We appreciate your time and assistance. And thanks again for the address. As he was a member and you have a vested interest in his well-being, I'll be glad to let you know what we find out about Eli. As long as it doesn't conflict with any clauses in our current contract of course. I'll ask, but I'm sure that Renkar won't mind. If you think of anything else that may help us, would you please let us know? We can be reached at the Silver Rose office."
Talesar nods. "Of course. If any information comes my way I will send you a missive.”
I take another appreciative look around the room as we prepared to leave, then stop, and turn back.
"One more question, if you don't mind sir. Elias had no known enemies, and we know what he was working on. But perhaps not it's significance. IS there any reason, or anyone, that you know of that wouldn't want Elias or his current client to gather the information he was working on? It doesn't have to be personal to wish harm on another. Perhaps a rival sage or explorer is looking for the same info?"
To my surprise, Talesar actually seemed to ponder the question before replying.
"The question is a bit open ended, Ser Case. With information, one never knows who wants the darks uncovered and who wants them to remain 'dark', so to speak. I don't know what he was working on, but I do know that many of the projects he worked on were very desirable information. People are shivved on Sigil's streets for far less than a juicy dark."
Isaac nodded in agreement. “Very true. Thanks for your help and your time, Ser Talesar. We'll keep you in the loop."
Instead of rushing us out, our host indicates that we should finish enjoying our refreshments. The group finishes their drinks at the cozy hearth. Talesar bends the rules and shows me a few of the books in the library while the others enjoy their refreshments.
"I suppose you fall under supervised guest for this, and I appreciate a fellow bibliophile." He says with a small smile, pointing out several rare tomes with the pride of a collector. He points to a large tome on a shelf. "That's the 'Manifestations of Chaos in Material Congruence' by Hargek Sha'Hagmid there. That particular volume was owned by Hermes Quadrotriticus, and carries his extensive annotations to the original text."
I grin at Talesar's 'justification' as he shows off his collection. (And did not fail to notice the author's name of the indicated tome! Something I would be sure to ask Renkar about when I got the chance.) I murmur appropriately polite responses to everything our host says. But I believe it is my eyes which give the head of the library the response that truly gratifies him. My eyes literally light up as I scan the shelves. Not with greed or envy, but with passion. I make no attempt to hide the fact that I could happily spend the rest of the week, if not a longer period of my life, in this room alone. My eyes flick from scroll to book, as if by memorizing the runes on the cover I might somehow manage a peek inside.
"Thank you Ser, It was an honor." I said politely (and honestly!) to our host as he escorts us to the door.
Gamnesto squats in the entryway, looking peeved. (It seems to be his natural face).
When Issac asks the door(creature?) the last time that Elaith was in the club, he looks to Talesar, who nods slightly.
"'E was through 'ere two weeks ago, last I saw 'im. Spent four hours inside, then came back out."
When asked if there was anything else, the tarry creature shrugs and mutters.
"Not like any of you lot ever stop an' chat wif' me, I'm just the bound doorman."
"Thank you mister Gemnesto. You've been very helpful." I told the strange tarry-man with a warm smile. (What? Hey it never hurts to make friends with the help!)
Talesar shrugs and smiles apologetically
"I'm sorry, that's really all we have."
"That's quite alright. You've been more than accommodating Master Talesar. Thank you again for your time and assistance." I thanked Talesar once more with a slight bow.
He escorts us out into the rainy Peak of the Lower Ward. The hiss of the falling water drowns out his farewells as the half-moon door shuts with a clang.
I looked at the dreary sky as the door clang echoes behind us.
"Well, where to next?" I asked as I tug up the hood of my leather coat in preparation to brave the dismal downpour. "Onward to the address he gave us? Ask them when was Eli last there?" My eyes danced with merriment. I made no attempt to hide the opinion that I obviously did not consider this stop to have been a waste of time. But I said nothing, yet, only tapping my ear with a finger as I settle my hood into place. I had no intention of discussing our interview in front of the enspelled doorway.
"Issaac, Karrin, I don't pretend that this city makes any sense to me. Do you know where this address is?" I asked cheerfully.
We began to brave the dingy rain resignedly. Nari stuck close to Karrin, taking deep breaths as we walked away from the wizards' place. She seemed relieved to have made it out of there in one piece. Maybe someday she'd be willing to tell me (or any of us) why visiting a wizard seemed to bring dread and panic, but today was clearly not that day. I wasn't the only one who noticed nari's reactions however. Merle reached out to touch her shoulder.
"Hey Nari are you okay? You seem even more nervous than normal? Don't worry, like I said it's just a bunch of stuffy old men more JuREEOOOWWWW!!! What was that for????" Merle's once more haughty tone was interrupted by Seph, who getting tired of it nips her on one of her ears and glares at her.
Nari smiled a little at Seph. "I don't like visiting wizards," she said in a near-whisper. "Brings back bad memories."
I tried not smirk as the felines engage in a mutual staring contest. I tried, honest.
"That's okay Nari," I said with a quick smile for the hyper-tense elf lass. "I'm sure there are people that you know that would make ME nervous too."
Isaac pulls up the hood on his freshly mended cloak and squints into the rain.
"Aye, cutter, easy enough to find. Now that you've been through the Hive, we can knock around in a real den of cross-traders and knights of the post. We should palaver now on a plan, though: split up into smaller groups and park our ears in the soup kitchens while some of us go peering into the Clerk's Ward or stick together?"
Isaac ponders for a second, rolling a cigarette under the folds of his cloak.
"Do we want to take the door-to-door salesman approach like here or try our luck as second story men? His kip might be a different story from the Society."
"Splitting up might not be a bad idea.” I piped up immediately. “I have a feeling that time isn't on our side here. As far as checking out Eli's 'Kip'. Why don't we try both approaches? We'll ask nicely, and if we run into trouble, we'll just let ourselves in and not bother the nice landlord with pesky details." I said, my eyes flashing from under my hood. I was almost bouncing on my toes, obviously eager to find another piece of the puzzle.
"How you wanna handle the askin'?" Drazek growled. Then the warlock looks over at the harpy as she glances a the rain with resignation. "You flyin or walkin'?"
Lady Bethany gave a very un-lady-like snort. "Flying I guess. I want to get out of this rain as soon as possible and don't want to slow us down by walking."
"As Justin says, we can ask first and if that fails, then we can always break in. I can fly up there and with other magic users in the party I doubt that we'll have a problem getting someone else up there with me." She added practically.
Drazek nods and in a single swift movement whips the dark cloak off his shoulders, the movement fluid as the material fans out coming to drape itself around Bethany's shoulders. On her frame the shadowy material reaches just above her talons.
"Walk a spell," he speaks without so much as a shift in his conversational tone. He cuts his long stride to match hers.
"If we're bustin' in, don't wanna be none too conspicuous," he pauses "....or too memorable."
He grins laciviously, " Trust me sugar, ain't too many men would forget seein' you all soakin' wet."
Bethany looks quizzically at Drazek as he offers her his coat but accepts it nonetheless, Her thoughts inscrutable.
Looking ahead Drazek called to me, embracing the falling rain while I myself hunched my shoulders against the wet and cold.
"What'ya think Case? One more to do the talkin' and the rest a y'all take the Hive?"
Isaac idly blows smoke from his nostrils, using one hand to shield the end of his cigarette from the rain.
"Tis a canny idea, keeping a low profile. Clerk's Ward is lousy with Hardheads. Best if Bethany or Justin rattle their boneboxes; you're more Clerk's Ward material than Drazek or me. Karrin, Nari, you're both familiar faces to the sods at the soup kitchens, eh? Probably best to head up that leg of things. I can show these bashers the way and see if I can still pull off a bit o' cross trading, unless you'd prefer me in the Hive. Merle, Seph? What're ye up for?"
Merle and Seph break off from there glaring contest to answer Isaac. "I guess we'll go with Karrin and Nari." Merle replies crisply with a last glance at Seph.
"We should hurry. It's getting close to one of the busy times at the soup kitchen. There will be more people to talk to the sooner we get there," Nari pipes up before shrinking back into silence.
"Okay lead the way then." Merle says, somehow managing to ignore the cat perched on her shoulder still giving her the 'feline eye'.
"Better let me lead," Karrin says, "and keep your ears open, I'm bad for missing things and stuff."
The group sets out along Smith Street together deeper into Swordhold, heading in the general direction of the Great Foundry. The rain acquires a sulphuric smell as the water washes the Cage Fog straight out of the sky and onto our heads.
Smith Street, as its name implies, hosts a number of smithies and an equal number of bub houses. The party passes the Black Sails Tavern, one of the more memorable Lower Ward establishments in that it is fashioned out of an ancient galleon, one with a black sail still hanging soaked in the acidy rain. The party also passes the Harmonium's Lower Ward garrison, it's frowning tower keep seeming to squint and ask passersby their business.
At the dregs of Smith Street hard by the Foundry District is a watering hole Issac says he has visited once or thrice, the Red Pony. A boisterous workers' pub, it is stocked at all hours of the day with drinking Godsmen and unaffiliated laborers. Even at this early hour of Afterpeak the sound of a piano and raucous off-key singing can be heard from inside.
The Great Foundry emerges out of the gloom, its tall brick chimneys belching forth yellow-brown smoke and pale ash as it has for centuries. Soot-smeared dripping urchins run splashing through the maze of worker tenements that surround the compound, poking sticks into rubbish, looking for metal scraps to sell the junkmen. The junkmen themselves push their handcarts piled with scrap metals towards the foundry's huge gates, hoping to earn a Lady or two from their day's scrounging.
Heading out to Gear Street, the group passes the Hands of Time clockshop. Always a treat, and the unofficial beginning demarcation to the wonders of the Gear Run District, this shop is surmounted by an intricate clocktower that is literally constructed of gears, pulleys and other clockwork bits. It shifts and recombines in an intricate dance, striking the hour faithfully. The large windows of the shop are filled with clocks, astrolabes and compasses of all shapes and sizes. A Modron is busy applying oil to the delicate clockwork gears of the window items as the group passes.
Passing through the many mechanical wonders of the Gear Run District, the party turns onto the Alley of Dangerous Angles and enters Hellgate. We pass Caritas, the tavern looking quiet at this hour. Bethany looks a bit queasy as half-remembered scenes of last night flash before her eyes.
Hellgate looks much like one would imagine Dis to be, all rusty metal and clanging hammers. Fiends and tieflings swarm the streets, not in as great numbers as they will in later hours, but still in a decent crowd. Shops dedicated to fiendish pursuits or specializing in fiendish arms and armor line the road.
Hellgate gives way to Gramercy Street and the Ditch. The ancient span known as the Zaddfum Trestle swims out of the hissing rain. The greenish waters of the Ditch heave and swell with the downpour, its surface churned by the many sewer outflow pipes gushing raw effluvient into the rancid waters. Hiver children scamper the Ditch's crumbling steep sides searching for washed-up treasures or the occasional fiendish snail or crab.
Crossing the sooty bridge, the group arrives in the Hive Ward and the beginning of the Madhouse District. The Gatehouse is a fog-wrapped shape several blocks over. The Clerk's Ward lies on the other side of the Hive, a mere hours' walk away ...
And then things started to get interesting.
And I promise that you will NOT have to wait that long again for an update!
While ALL of this is good stuff, we are getting to the GOOD stuff in a few (PbP) pages!
:D
See you again soon!
Hah!
'Poor Bethany' kicks some arse in the next couple of pages.
I think her running tally keeps up with Drazek, just sayin'. ;)
I luv the RP in this thread. I will continue to say it. :)
Great stuff Rags.
Glad you all enjoyed it!
Now, only having waited a MONTH (give or take) your next delivery is here;
Justin's Story Part 7- A Little Action!
Justin's Story- Chapter 7
Finally! A Little Action! And an Important Discovery
OR- Be Careful what Wizards Wish For
(Chronicle pages 78-82)
So, we of the Company of the Silver Rose had just finished 'palavering' with Talesar of the 'Society of the Lumineferous Aether', a gentleman's library and mage's club frequented by the missing Eli. While giving Merle no apparent reason to change her opinion of wizard's in general, (they did seem have a wand up their nether regions, as most gentlewizard's club members tend to do) Talesar had been kind enough to actually chat with us about the missing Sage, Eli. And had provided us with Eli's home address. AND he had provided refreshments, very decent of him. (Granted, my own impressions may have been a little rose-colored due to the mage briefly indulging my own love of arcane literature.)
I was all but bouncing in my excitement after the interview. But not wanting to speak in front of the Society's enchanted doorway and doorman of unknown pedigree and talents, I held my tongue. I did arc an eyebrow as Drazek gave his cloak to Bethany, but (again,wisely) said nothing. Though I nod in agreement with the warlock's observation that the harpy's curvy and wet figure would be hard to forget.
As the group marches as quickly as they can through the smoggy air of the foundries that the dirty rain seems to be able to do nothing about, I start talking in a hushed voice almost as soon as we are out of earshot of the Library door.
"I expected to be disappointed, but we actually learned a lot from that little visit." I declared from under the safety of my hooded coat. “At least, I think we did.” I added thoughtfully, reviewing the interview in my mind.
"At the very least, the doorman told us that it was 2 weeks ago when Eli was last seen, which if I recall correctly, fits in with when he disappeared. Talesar verified that Eli was top at what he did, and was well-known for being able to ferret out obscure information. Again, we knew that, but verification is important."
I turned and grinned at the others bemused expressions, walking backwards a few dangerous steps to do so. "But what is REALLY interesting is what he didn't say. While it IS possible, or even probable, for the library to not know what every single member is working on, I'm willing to bet that they keep close track of who looks at what books. And that they have a pretty good idea of what any one member is working on. And Talesar took no time to think when he responded that Elias had no known enemies. But, he pondered a bit before responding to my question about someone wanting the same information as Eli, or wanting to keep it a secret. Granted, I'm a suspicious b@$tard, but still,..." I smirked from under my hood.
"But last, and not least, once again the most interesting tidbit came from Gemnesto, the doorman. He said that when Eli was last at the library, he was only there for 4 hours." I gave the group a look.
"In the world of research, 4 hours isn't even a drop in the bucket. Certainly not enough time to ferret out 'Obscure Darks', I don't care HOW good you are. So on his last visit, Eli wasn't there to look for information, he was there to verify it! And almost immediately after he found what he wanted, he disappeared, and turned up loony and supposedly dead in the Hive." I probably looked just a little smug, and likely ridiculous with water dripping off the end of my nose where it stuck out from under my hood. Bloody Dingy Sigil rain.
"So what we're looking for is what the information was that Eli found, and where he went when he left the library. I have a feeling that it's ALL connected, and that there's more to this mystery place than just being located on some un-pleasant, Power-forsaken plane!" I declared with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
"On that note, I surmise that we won't find any, obvious, information in his dwelling, as I'm guessing whatever it was has already been taken. If it was ever there. Although I still hold out hope for information on his last-known whereabouts from his landlord or neighbors."
Isaac finishes his cigarette and throws the end into a puddle. (He didn't have to aim.)
"So, if this is all wrapped up together with a bow in a neat little package, why are all these other barmies hitting the blinds? Do you think they all have something to do with this place?"
The half-elf throws a sour glance into the cloudy brown "sky".
"You're a trig cutter and all, Justin, but I think we're in danger of having too many theories. We can't go throwing everything together in a big pile, like smelting scrap into iron. What darks he was ferreting out may have been important, may not have been, we won't know until we find some evidence. More important: Toranna said he was put in the dead book eight days ago. Two weeks ago was the last time he was seen, at the Society. We have a week of time to fill in between his last visit and turning up in a Collector's wagon. We should still check his kip, I'd wager, but we should flag down a Collector on the way and find out how many of these unmarked bodies they've been finding. It's possible Eliath went mad and hit the blinds simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, since he weren't a top shelf wizard."
I frowned (I did NOT pout!) as my theoretical balloon was popped by Isaac's fundamental realism. I pursed my lips thoughtfully, and then gave a self-depreciating smirk as I nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Well, your right about one thing. There is always a danger of creating a theory before you actually have all the facts. That's always a danger of any investigation. I didn't mean to imply that finding the answers will be easy or simple, but I DO suspect that most if not all of our questions ARE all interrelated. But we won't know until we actually GET the answers,..." I shrugged noncommittally.
Isaac stopped walking. We had crossed the sooty bridge of The Ditch, and had arrived in the Hive Ward and the beginning of the Madhouse District. The Gatehouse was a fog-wrapped shape several blocks over. The Clerk's Ward was on the other side of the Hive, a mere hours' walk away ... Through the Hive,...
"Well, here's where we go our separate ways. Meet at the Rose when we're through or someplace else?" Isaac asked.
I shrugged. "The Rose is good for me, unless there's a place we can gather that's closer to here, and then go back together?"
Bethany moved over to stand with Isaac and Drazek. She looked at me like my head was about to explode. I couldn't tell if that was something she was, or wasn't, looking forward to seeing.
"So does that mean you're coming with us, or going with them?" The harpy indicates Karrin's group. "You seem to think we won't find anything useful at Eliath's... err... kip was it?"
I answered immediately, "Oh, I'm definitely going with Isaac. I want to check out Eli's flop for myself. IF my suspicions are correct, we won't find much. But sometimes the absence of something can tell you almost as much as the presence of something can."
"I still say there's a gate to some twisted place in the hive," Karrin said absent mindedly. "If Justin's theory is correct then he went there to find the door. I think perhaps something slipped through."
Karrin suddenly realizes that we've stopped and she glanced about at her surroundings.
"So do we walk? Cuz there are gangs and stuff and it could be dangerous. But we could flag down a carriage or something and ride over or something . . ."
Nari looked at Karrin, "Wouldn't riding in a carriage make us more of a target than walking? Maybe it works different here, but where I'm from nothing attracts attacks from the desperate like displays of wealth."
Nari's crystal was glowing as she spoke, and when she finished she gave a little “Eeep” and tried in vain to make herself invisible. Again.
Merle rolled her slit-irised eyes. "I say we just walk to the soup kitchen. I mean if we have any trouble you just bash their head in with your axe Karrin."
"That's bad for business you know," Karrin says quickly, eager to share her knowledge of mercenary code. "Killing and beating people like civs, I mean you'd think that's what we're being paid for, but when we beat up civilians the heardheads get angry. They don't like people taking the law into their own hands. If we start getting a reputation for beating up civs we might get investigated it'll make business that much harder. Also gangs hold grudges and aren't bound to any sort of code or standard. The might try to avenge any bert we splat just because it gives them a bad rep. Then we might get sucked into some kind of gang war or something. Gangs are stupid though, lots of times they can't be scared off, and then the only way to deal with them it to run them out. A lot of times gangs aren't powerful enough to attract the ire of any big powerful patrons so then we got to take care of them Pro bono or something. That means we got to do it for free or find someone who's willing to hire for cheap . . . it's real complicated. Best to obey the laws and try to stay out of trouble." She expounds sagely.
Merle just sort of, stared, at Karrin for a moment or three.
"Ah,... That's not really what I meant Karrin. I meant if anyone attacked us, not us just jumping random people in the street. I doubt the hardheads would have any problem with us defending ourselves against street thugs." She explained slowly, as if to a child. If that child was a bad-@$$ tiefling warrior with a magic axe.
Nari spoke up softly, "It's alright, Merle. We should be fine. I'll be able to sense anyone closing in on us with the intent of doing harm. Axe bashing really is more of a last resort." And the elf maids eyes glowed faintly as she manifested one of her mental-magic powers.
Isaac nodded at Karrin. "Aye, Karrin, I tumble to that. 'A watched back holds no room for a chiv' and all. Just keep in mind the hardheads only tend to show when you least want to see 'em: we're just about on our own in the Hive."
Isaac clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. "All right, cutters, let's get to it. If you feel like we're not getting enough exercise we can take the long way to Eliath's kip, but the most direct route is right through the welcoming, homey Hive Ward with its Collectors, brainsnatchers, barmies, spivs, coney catchers and knights of the post. If we keep our brainboxes out of our arses we can make the Clerk's in a quarter of the time. Hive's not a friendly place, even during Peak, but what's going to scare some top-shelf bashers like us, eh?"
Isaac pulled back his hood to let his keen almost-elven eyes and ears have full reign in the sprawling slums ahead, despite the weather.
Drazek gave an evil smirk. "Why the hell not? 'Sides, I plan to be the one doin' the scarin'."
The warlock seems to make the subtlest of shifts, his stride taking on the deadly grace of a predator, his wet hair draping over his unnatural eyes, shadows seeming to reach out slightly as he passes.
He generated a notable aura of menace as he looked around, daring trouble to come out and play.
I despise warlocks. I really do.
Isaac smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.
"Here's a right bit o' fun fer you cutters on our walk: I'll buy a round for every hardhead you spot while in the Hive. Gehenna stingers included."
Bethany gave Isaac a scathing look.
I just smirked at Isaac's offer.
"Works for me, it's your silver. Er, Stingers." I shrugged with a wry look.
"Alright, Lead on MacDuffs! Like you said, anybody brain-drained enough pick a fight with an obviously competent and capable group, gets what they're asking for." I glanced up at the sky from under my hood.
"And it's not getting any drier out here,..." I muttered in resignation.
“At least it won't be boring, right? After all of this walking I could use a little action.” I said looking for the silver lining in this dingy raincloud of a day.
Oh you foolish, foolish wizard. Mages who play with the creative forces of the universe should learn to be very, VERY careful about what they wish for. Just sayin'.
Waving goodbyes, Karrin led her troop through the dingy mist towards the fog-enshrouded Gatehouse. Bidding goodbye to our other members, Issac led his bunch into the belly of the beast. The streets were thankfully quieter than they would usually be in the Hive. With the downpour, even the hardcases and Spiregod barmies were seeking shelter from the stinging rain.
The crooked, twisting roads narrowed as the tenements crowd the street. The tops of the rickety structures almost touch at their tops six stories above the road, making dim tunnels where whatever scant light the peak has brought to the Hive is even further obscured.
Skirting Goatswood, a maze of non-human tenements, the group got a few hard stares from Xaos-wearing bariaur lounging under a bub-house's ripped canopy. The party rolled on until we reached the Gatehouse Night Market. The market is quiet at this hour, just a few vendors hawking food and rags. The shabby tents are surrounded by many boarding houses and bubber's roosts, some just a man with a keg and a few cheap clay mugs selling watered barley beer for two cups a Green.
There are a few things etched into my memory of this moment:
The filth on the streets was staining my magic boots. And it was nauseating.
(Coming from a guy who keeps bat guano in his pocket, THAT'S saying something!)
A lot of the vendors stared at me as I passed, looking like hungry dogs eyeing a bone.
A puddle ahead had a severed hand floating in it.
I met the eyes of the vendors with a steely gaze, but a pleasant half-smile and nod. I raised an eyebrow as the harpy dodged the particularly unpleasant rain puddle with a severed hand floating in it. I didn't bother to try and identify the race of origin. I gave a smirk and a half-wave to an urchin watching us closely from an alleyway. At my wave, the lad turned and disappeared up the alleyway. I just 'humphed' with an amused snort.
Isaac nods to the alley that the urchin just scampered down.
"Mark that.", he says quietly,"Keep your eyes open, try to act casual and be ready for trouble."
"Well, it's nice to know that some things don't change. No matter where you are or what civilization you live in. Kids will be kids." I smirked, and tugged my hood higher up to protect my face from the distinctly unpleasant tea-colored rain.
Isaac looked at me with a raise of a half-elvish eyebrow. "So the coney-catchers on the Prime keep brats in their employ, too, eh? 'Wherever you go, there you are'."
Drazek only reply was to focus for a moment as he made an odd movement with his fingers. The air around him seemed to flicker. Of course I had no idea what he did, because he wasn't using a REAL spell, just powers borrowed from a nether realm patron. I'm fairly certain he was just activating his wall-walking trick. (Which is a good trick, don't get me wrong.) But I couldn't TELL because he wasn't casting an actual SPELL. Stupid, Irritating, Frustrating, Cheating, Non-Casting, Magic-Using Warlocks.
Yes. I have issues. Your just NOW figuring this out? What have you been doing the past few pages?
Where was I? Oh right. Wary of Isaac's warning, Bethany loosened the coat from around her shoulders so that her wings were free in case of trouble. Her eyes took on a predatory gleam as she tensed herself, ready to throw off the coat at a moments notice.
At the moment, I wasn't sure who was scarier. Her or Draz. (The jury's still out.)
Our group troops out of the market tents and heads down the narrow, shaded road named Lots Lane. A large tavern rollicks at the beginning of the road, the sign reading 'The Bottle & Jug'. Several passed out 'bubbers' lie in the filthy road. There is the sound of several 'bubbers' drunkenly singing off key and urinating in the alley to its side. Delightful place.
The sound of footsteps alerted us all to the advance of some ugly-looking bully boys and bub bashers headed our way, swords unsheathed. For a brief, hopeful, moment I thought perhaps they were merely lost and wanted directions. But while GIVING directions might involve pointing, ASKING for directions don't, usually, involve pointy things.
The thugs we faced were Hiver bred, no doubt. Possibly Xaos footsoldiers, but according to Isaac almost every young Hiver basher apes their look whether they're a 'namer' or not.
They were all dressed in the typical patchwork armor that piecing together the scraps of half-a-dozen suits gets you. Their cloaks were thick black wool, but a Cager usually has a good foulweather cloak, seeing as it rains all the time. So,... Poor, IE= Desperate, AKA= typical Hivers.
Otherwise, nothing really outstanding, otherworldly or extraplanar about them, save that some of their granddaddies were from the Lower Realms. The one charging headlong at Issac had cloven hooves, but that's nothing out of the ordinary in these parts. Again, according to Isaac.
Alerted to the oncoming thugs, Bethany threw off Drazek's Coat and reached into her Quiver, drawing forth a wickedly serrated wooden saber and turning towards the toughs, Drazek at her side. I noted that the quiver was too small to actually hold the wooden blade she now brandished.
Isaac's face goes cold as he pulls a long, finely crafted spear out of his own quiver. (Again, the quiver should be far too small to hold spear it produced.) The long spear has the Godsmen symbol embossed toward the base of the leaf-shaped blade opposite his own maker's mark, a stylized tree with a ring going through the trunk. No gregarious banter, no warnings or offers of parley. THIS is Isaac the experienced Planar Warrior, he picks cheap shots where he can get them and uses the weapon's reach to maximum effect.
I was glad he was on my side!
At the motions of Bethany and Isaac, I frowned at the group approaching and muttered a few choice words under my breath. I tugged my coat open to make access to my dark Cold Iron blade easier, but didn't draw it. I stepped slightly to the side, placing myself behind the others, but allowing me a clear view of the approaching group.
"Hiyas! Nice day for a stroll in the rain, isn't it?" I called to the toughs with a smile as I tugged my unnoticed-till-now medallion from where it had been tucked under my shirt and let it hang visible on my chest. I took a breath, exhaled half of it, and let my arms hang loosely at my sides, flexing my gloved fingers,...
The pack of punks never even slowed. So much for witty banter.
The seven dark-cloaked toughs advance. Issac lunges forward like a jungle cat, his longspear hitting one, gashing his side deeply. Not to be outdone, Drazek takes a single step forward, strange words leaving his lips as his hands begin a twirling motion.
Dark pulsating energy coalesces in his hands coming to form a wicked looking glaive made of solid black light. The weapon generates a deep ominous hum as he whirls it toward the thug almost 10 feet ahead of him, ignoring armor and shield to bite into his enemy with bone searing cold, causing that ruffian to howl in pain as well.
Draz continued to twirl the weapon with a flourish, daring any to enter his deadly range.
Bethany twirls her own wicked wooden weapon in front of her as she begins to sing.
”Take heart my friend in sagas old
And learn from their valiant tales.
Be brave and see your purpose done
And your foes be downed like ales.”
Bethany's singing inspired the rest of us to new heights of action. (Seriously, never underestimate the effectiveness of a good bard. And Bethany was excellent. I could actually tell I was being mystically enhanced. I was buzzing with increased, something, at her effective if silly song.)
One of my eyebrows had gone up as both Isaac and Bethany had pulled weapons out of quivers too small to possibly hold them without the use of magic, 'Hm, they're bigger on the inside'. I have GOTTA get me one of those!, I thought happily to myself. Then I raised the other eyebrow to join the first as Drazek materialized his glaive of dark energy, and tears into the nearest street tough while he is still 10' away!
I'm sure I looked peeved as I momentarily bemoaned the lost opportunity to dazzle the enemy with my rapier wit, then shrugged as I pluck a bit of mystic flotsam from one of my vest pockets.
"Meh, It was a boring conversation anyway." I muttered as I quickly waggled my fingers in a particular pattern. The golden stars on the knuckles of my enchanted blue gloves flashed dimly as I completed the pattern. There was a brighter flash, and the gestures I made seemed to leave an image in the air, a floating rune of mystic fire. Holding my hands in the rune, I cried,
"Fuego! Venitas Fuego!"
My hands are covered in flames, which hiss in the dreary rain, but still flare brighter at my oddly echoing shout. (Hah! How do you like that Draz?) I point my finger at the thug directly in front of Bethany, and the flames leap from my hand in a thin ray to strike the bully-boy square in the chest.
Now I have to admit, I was nowhere near archmage material at this point in my career. Yet. Although I was no slouch either. But my most abundant source of arcane spells were still a mere 1 on the Merlinscale. So, like all good archmages in training, I cheated. The spell was a good, dependable fire spell, and was being enhanced by my enchanted gloves, my amulet to which I had added an enchantment for power boosting this very spell, my special Fire Rune technique I had picked up in my travels, my Mystic Tattoo which strengthened my Evocation spells, and my specialized study of Evocation in general. So, I estimate the simple spell was hitting at around level 3 or 4 on the Merlinscale. Not bad, if I do say so myself.
The stream of fiery energy lashes out from my hand and wraps the bully boy in a caul of flame. The Hiver thug shrieks, his skin melting off his bones with the enhanced fury of the arcane spell. He drops into a filthy puddle and a hissing fog of ordure-scented moisture erupts.
“Never bring a sword to a spell-fight boys!” I crowed enthusiastically, adrenaline pumping.
Like I said, I cheat. To win. Archmage here I come!
Here, the inexperience of our foes came to light. The narrowness of the rancid street acted as a barrier, and only two of the thugs could bring their short swords to bear on Draz and Bethany. The others flipped Hiver shivs (basically sharpened scraps of rusty metal) at the rest of us.
A crowd of Night Market patrons start to notice the brawl, and begin to crowd about. Faces can be seen pressed against the Bottle & Jug's small barred windows cut into its black stone facade. A pair of large ugly goblinoids flank the tavern's entrance, and bar it against entry by anyone.
One thug's sword bites deep into Bethany's side, drawing a gout of bright red blood. A hiss escapes Bethany's mouth as the thug's blade finds it's mark, scoring a red line in her side. She concentrates her attack on the cur that hit her, to the exclusion of her surroundings. Bethany's saber swiftly finds a home in the thug's neck. He gurgles as she rips the serrated blade out of him and he falls to the filthy, rain-soaked street, his lifeblood flowing into the mire.
As one of the thugs winds up for his shiv-throw, Drazek takes advantage of the opening and whirls the glaive around his neck to strike high at the punk. The warlock's spinning glaive slices deeply into the dagger-tossing goon, causing a howl of pain.
Another thugs flipped shiv gashes Drazek's ear, a runnel of blood drips down his neck. As the tossed blade draws blood Drazek grins, the shallow wound already beginning to close. Warlocks do tend to have quick healing and a resistance to damage. (Which is not immune to cold iron, hence Draz's dislike of my sword.)
Drazek's grin dies when he hears Bethany's gasp of pain. With a snarl of rage the Glaive seems to vanish then reappear, his movements momentarily interspersed with a complex hand motion.
The warlock's eyes emanate a vermilion glow as the shadows seem to deepen for a second, blood red motes flow up the length of the ebony energy weapon as he takes a step forward and brings the glaive down in an overhand strike that passes cleanly through his opponent. Drazek's glaive literally splits the thug from crown to crotch, the two bifurcated pieces falling to the side.
(Ok, Ok, THAT was impressive, I'll admit. But It's not Magic. Not exactly. I mean its not Magical Spellcasting. I mean,... Oh never mind.)
A brace of cheers erupt from the gathering crowd as Greens pass back and forth between betters. A bawdy jinkskirt blows Drazek a kiss. (I was rather surprised he didn't reach out and catch it.)
Distracted by my team mates martial abilities, I was hit in the thigh with another of the slim shanks, the rusty blade sinking into my flesh almost to the hilt. I shouted in pain as the dagger plunged deep into my left leg, not a cry of agony, but I definitely wasn't happy either.
(OK, ok! I screamed like a girl. For like, ONE half-second! I'm a wizard, not a warrior! OK? Sheesh.)
<Note in margin, in bold but distinctly feminine handwriting.> Like a Girl?!?
<Note hastily scrawled in Justin's handwriting.> NO OFFENSE! I meant like a LITTLE girl!
I instinctively reached for the dagger to pull it out, (Seriously, I know that is not the best way to treat a blade wound of unknown damage, but EW! I had NO idea where that shiv had been!!) but I paused as a wave of weariness washed over me. I shook it off, and glared up at the thugs.
I grumbled, "You lot aren't clever enough to cast, so who,...?" I looked around and saw Isaac shake his head as well. Seems we had both been targeted by the same spell.
We looked around saw a cowled dark figure behind us down Lot's Lane gesticulating. It was hard in the downpour to make out details, but it seemed to be a dark cloaked figure of typical height.
Honestly, Isaac reacted to the caster quicker than I. Likely because I was distracted by the length of rusty-@$$ jagged metal sticking out of my leg. (Trust me, that can be very distracting.) He snarled “Oh you'll pay for that Berk.” and took off running back up Lot's Lane behind us, towards the dark cloaked figure, feet splashing through the filth-ridden puddles.
Isaac closed the gap, and jabbed at the figure with his longspear. The figure hissed and shouted a word I couldn't quite hear.
I gritted my teeth, prayed I wouldn't die from an infection before I could down a healing potion, and yanked the rusty homemade shank from my leg. I did NOT scream. Again.
(OK, I made an 'unhappy sound'. Again, I am a WIZARD, not a warrior. I can and will summon and negotiate with a denizen of the lower planes until it gives in without breaking a sweat. But physical pain hurts! OK?)
There was a snorting, hooting noise from a side alleyway. A large gorilla sporting ram's horns and large, pointy teeth advanced from the gloom of the alleyway towards Isaac. The large ape's pelt was black as midnight, except for a red blaze of fur on his chest. His eyes glow redly as he swiped a claw at Issac.
As I removed the shiv and dealt with the expected but still painful aftereffects, I watched Isaac go from being in a dingy downpour to being in hot water! The large, black-furred ape was particularly impressive.
"Whoa, that's big!" I muttered under my breath, the shank dropping forgotten from my fingers.
"Draz, Beth! These clowns are a distraction! We're being flanked!" I cried as I aimed my palm past Beth's shoulder again. You could catch a glimpse of a small lens in my palm before I repeated the arcane chant, "Fuego! Venitas Fuego!". Once again a glowing, fiery glyph appeared in the air, and I stuck my hand in it. My hand was covered in flames, which pulsed in time with a flash from my amulet, and gloves,... (Amulet, gloves, fiery rune, tattoo, all check!) before streaming off towards another thug who was wrapped in fiery agony and fell into the muddy street. (OK, maybe that spell, with all of my magical enhancements, might have been a BIT much for a street thug. OK it was a lot much for a street thug. But how was I to know? 'Cast first, ask questions later' had served me well to date.)
The three thugs left suddenly became two as one's morale broke and he darted off into the crowded tents of the Night Market. The final two snarled and brought their swords to bear.
I glanced over my shoulder at Isaac. "Can you hold these guys? I think Isaac needs help!"
"Got it! Go!" Drazek growled at me. I went.
Looking over his shoulder at Bethany, Drazek smirked."Jus' you 'n me pretty bird, let's show 'em what happens when ya piss us off."
Bethany grinned in reply, "These bastards won't know what hit them."
The two thugs hastily attacked once more, and missed. Badly. One was already bleeding pretty badly from Drazek's previous glaive strike.
Grinning wickedly, Drazek whirs the glaive around yet again, slashing the already wounded thug. As the thug drops he dashes after the fleeing bully boy.
"This one's yours gorgeous, I'll take the runner." Draz cries in devilish glee, already darting off after the fleeing thug. The many ragged tents in the market are cloaked in rain, and the area is crowded with rubberneckers. Some cry out as Drazek runs:
"Oi! Get back there yeh poltroon!"
Drazek told me that he glimpsed the fleeing thug as he darted through some tents. He was going full bore and weaving through the market like an old hand. Drazek clambered up a large tent for a better view. The cloth merchant owning the tent yelling and gesticulating at the warlock the entire time.
Drazek spied the bolting thug and speared him with his patented 'red-laced black energy bolt'. (I cannot say 'Warlock's Blast' with a straight face. C'mon.) The blast flew true, blowing the fleeing Hiver off his feet and landing him in a crumpled heap.
The tent's sides sag alarmingly, but Drazek vaults from his canvas perch before it collapsed, ignoring the curses being hurled at him by the merchant beneath the tent's awning. He sprints to where the crumpled body lies, observing a few young preteen boys sidling up to the corpse as well. They quickly dart off like jackals when the lion approaches.
Drazek slits the thug's leather beltpouch, and sprints back to the scene of the attack.
Meanwhile, Bethany saw Drazek drop his opponent and go rushing off in pursuit of the cowardly thug. She slowly returned her gaze to her own opponent with an predatory smirk before bringing her blade around upon him in a vicious swing. The serrated sword bit deeply into the thug's arm, laying open a wide gash. Blood gouted out in a red wave and the ferret-faced man looked wide-eyed at the harpy, seeing his death in her eyes.
The bleeding thug tries to drag Bethany down to Hell with him. He swings his notched short sword with a desperate strength, and scores a telling blow to the harpy bard. The blade sinks in deeply, Bethany's blood soaking her shift as the wound gushes. The ferret-faced basher snarls at her as he feels the strike go true.
"See you in Baator, b!tch!" The basher spits.
"Never worm. While you rot in the festering mire of Baator, I shall be flying the skies eternal beside The Winged Lord in The Abyss. Now die! “ The harpy screeched.
And with that, Bethany spins, slicing the thug's throat with her saber as he finishes his curse. The jagged wooden blade opens up a terrible wound across the thug's throat, his lifeblood gushing out to hiss on the rain slick street. His squinty eyes widen momentarily, then glaze over. He drops his sword and falls to the mire-slicked cobbles, gobbling obscenely as his carotid empties.
Letting out a screech of triumph that echoes across the stalls, Bethany turns and takes to the air, soaring down the alley to land behind Isaac, coincidentally next to me.
Wait a minute. Back up a few seconds,...
Meanwhile, Draz had told me to go. So I got.
I nodded grimly, turned, and bolted up the street after Isaac. It took me a moment to get close enough to get a clear picture of what was happening. The cloaked man Issac had engaged was very adept at keeping his face hidden. He was a slight man with a wiry build under his black wool cloak.
The large ape was definitely Lower Realms material, and big and pissed off right then.
Isaac expertly gave another longspear jab that made contact with the cloaked caster. The cowled figure hissed in pain, took a step back, and vanished into thin air. The large ape swiped at Issac with a taloned paw.
The claws raked Issac, and the ape roared in triumph.
Isaac cursed a blue streak as the mage disappears and his monkey slammed him.
"Leatherhead wizard and his organ grinder monkey! Under control, I got it all under control!"
Isaac thought for a second, then stuck his spear back into the quiver and pulled out his silver short sword, jabbing it at the planetouched ape. Issac scored the ape's hide, but the wound was slight.
I slid to a stop on the slimy street, cursing in almost perfect tempo with Isaac. I pulled another bit of mystic flotsam from my vest and point it at the snarling planestouched ape.
"Big d@mn monkey!" I muttered, then cried, "Isaac, duck! Fuego! Venitas Fuego!" Again my flaming, floating mystic rune appears. I stick my hand in it, and turn it into another flaming ray that races towards the big monkey.
By the way, I was officially out of my first-level Merlinscale fire rays for the day. Having spent them (probably unnecessarily) on the Hiver Punk Swarm. THIS was a SECOND-level Merlinscale spell commonly called 'Scorching Ray'. When cast by an accomplished arcanist, it produces multiple fiery rays at once.
Yeah, I wasn't, quite, there yet. And it was beyond the meager power of my gloves to enhance. BUT it WAS also empowered by my amulet, my Fire Rune technique, and my mystic tattoo. Hardly anything to sneeze at. But as I aimed the ray I wondered if it would be enough, seeing as how the oversized chimp with the nether realms goat complex was likely fire resistant. So I gave it every bit of will I could muster,...
Well, there's fire resistant, and then there's fire resistant,...
My scorching spell flew true and singed the large fiendish monkey's hide. The devil ape howled, black fur crisping from the heat of the arcane blast. The smell of burning hair mixed with the ordure, ripe garbage and burnt bacon smells already fragrancing Lot's Lane. Suddenly I was seriously losing my appetite.
The Angry Ape has set himself, and fully engages with Isaac, bringing his claws and bite to bear while roaring in pain-fueled rage. (Sorry Isaac.)
One claw rakes Issac, but the other paw accidentally hits a nearby stone wall, snapping a talon off. The pain throws the devil ape's gnashing fanged mouth off, the fetid breath and slavering jaws just missing Issac's neck with an audible SNAP. The monkey howls in frustration.
Isaac didn't bat an eyelash at the near-brush with over sized canines. Ignoring his wounds for the time being, Isaac switched his weapons yet again, replacing the short sword into the quiver in favor of the cold iron mace in the small of his back.
"I hope you come back as a damn butterfly in your next bloody life, monkey. Silver wasn't it, so..."
The ranger swings hard, but his blow goes wide, knocking a shower of dusty masonry from the nearby wall.
The large fiendish ape hoots and prepares to strike again. It's massive arms casting a shadow over Isaac as it raised them high overhead. I swear it was laughing. (Great. Perfect. An over-sized, infernally-empowered, organ-grinder's monkey with a sense of humor. My day was complete.)
I gave Bethany a lop-sided grin as she landed next to me, having dealt with her own opponents. Then frowned as I reviewed my options. My fire spell had hurt the ape, despite it's clearly being lower-planes stock, but it hadn't hurt it as much as I had hoped. And, to be honest, I was running low on offensive spells. (I wasn't anywhere near OUT of spells yet, but what I had left was far more 'useful' than 'awe-inspiring'.)
Fortunately a wizard is never unarmed, as long as he has his wits. An Evoker even more so, as we can conjure minor bursts of elemental energy at will. I raised my right hand, concentrated, and summoned forth a thin line of crackling electrical energy that arced thru the air to touch the rain-soaked ape on the chest, scorching the already burnt hair on the massive pectorals. (Hint-Water is a great conductor.)
The devil ape's skeleton was visible briefly as the power coursed through him. Bethany and Issac both must have felt a bit of a jolt as well as the electricity spread through the ape's feet to the puddles below, causing both the harpy and ranger to sparkle with a nimbus of arcane electricity for a moment. (Clearly, electricity was the right choice here!)
"Hey! Little Joe Punk! Where's yer' organ, monkey? Let's dance!" I jeered, waving my arms like an idjit. I was hoping to distract and possibly anger the ape enough to charge me, and give Isaac and Bethany a free shot at it.
Then I ran that scenario through my mind again,... And began hoping deep down that it didn't work,...
The fiendish monkey roared, but despite my taunting seemed intent on making Issac his Koko b!tch.
The electrical jolt must have slowed up the devil ape's reflexes, and he howled as another talon on his bad paw was ripped off on another wall as he attempted to swipe Issac's bonebox off his neck. His huge jaws snapped not six inches from Issac's face. It was looking distinctly punchy at this point.
More than a little punchy himself, Issac swung in retaliation. His attack swiped close, but failed to connect with the evil monkey as the two maneuvered for advantage in the narrow space.
Seeing Isaac's and my attacks do nothing but enrage the creature, Bethany took to the air once more and came down behind it, directly opposite the harried Godsman. She spun and brought her Sabre around, slashing across the creature's chest. Her sabre gashed the ape, but it remained standing, swaying slightly.
I raised my hand again, my palm crackling with an electrical nimbus.
"BAD monkey! No banana for you!" I shouted as I sent another thin bolt of electricity arcing through the air towards the ape, hissing and sparking on raindrops as it traveled.
The arcane lightning lashed the ape, once again jolting him severely. This time, the ape swayed and toppled down majestically in the alleyway. A few seconds later the corpse disappeared in a puff of brimstone-flavored smoke.
I waved my hand in front of my face as the ape faded away, trying to keep the foul-smelling smoke away. Then I realized it wasn't as bad as the stench I was already enduring, and gave it up.
"Sheesh! And I thought they smelled bad on the OUTside! Oh, that's just the Hive. Wait a sec, that monkey was conjured, and there was that spell that I felt,... Where's the caster?!" I frowned, holding out my palms as I spun to look around the street and up the alley.
I looked about, but didn't see any sign of the mysterious caster. Folks were boiling out of the market and the local buildings, buzzing and pointing at the group. Drazek skidded into Lot's Lane and discovered that the fight was over. He seemed put out about that.
I thought I saw Drazek eyes flash red(er) for a moment, as he focused for a second, viewing the street and the scene before him. Apparently he didn't find what he was looking for. He ambled over towards the rest of us.
"Y'all allright?" He asked us, although he was looking at Bethany.
Isaac leaned against the nearby wall, his weapon slipping from his hand as he gingerly put a hand to his fresh wounds.
"The berk hauled off once I slipped him the spear. Real peery about seein' his face, kept himself wrapped. For that reason, I reckon we'll see him again, likely not even know it until another bloody ape has my guts. Leave any o' them bully boys alive? Curious if they knew this berk."
The half-elf opened one of his belt pouches and pulled out a fizzy blue potion. Ripping out the cork with his teeth, he guzzled it down and shivered as his body reknit itself.
The worst of his wounds stanched, Isaac pockets the flask and tears off one of his sleeves to reveal the mithril hauberk beneath his clothes. He dresses his remaining injuries while he talks.
"Damn shame. Just got these mended and cleaned. Reckon I'll be fine, though. Now I've almost been eaten by a fiendish ape, a troglodyte, three kinds of goblin, a desert owl, bladelings and a zombie. I'm a true adventurer, now! With a year out of the game, I grew to miss this. Tumble to that? Anyhow, let's get a move on. Hive ain't getting any safer."
Seeing the danger vanish in a puff of brimstone smoke, and Isaac relax against the wall, Bethany looks around suspiciously one last time before stowing her Sabre in her Quiver.
Watching Isaac drink a potion and then bind his wounds, she begins singing a short song to herself and I watch some of her own wounds begin to close.
She looks gingerly down at the blood staining her slip and whistles a quick melody, watching as the blood quickly dries and then flakes off to leave her looking clean and tidy. It's a simple spell I use a lot, but that doesn't make it any less effective.
I'm telling you, Bards are awesome. They can cast arcane spells, they can fight, they can talk a contract devil out of its horns, they can entertain, and they can cast Divine spells as well. A good Wizard is a well-prepared magical powerhouse. A good Bard is a well-prepared for anything powerhouse. I'm telling you, if I hadn't been such a shoe in for 'future arch-mage', I'd have made a great Bard. Except for, you know, having to actually have musical talent. ANY musical talent. Other than that, I'd have been a great Bard.
Having made herself presentable, Bethany approached the rest of us, and asked Isaac, "So those toughs I can understand, they were just being idiots. What in the Abyss was that Derhii abomination doing back here attacking us? Was he with those thugs do you think?"
Drazek closed ranks as well, his eyes quickly scanning the alley. He grunted.
"Setup. Thugs up front, wizard hits ya in the back. Somebody don't like the questions we been askin'."
Draz shrugged, and indicated the bully boys lying in the street.
"Information woulda' been nice an' all, but when the blood starts spillin', my side walks away. Everyone else ends up lyin' in the dirt."
Isaac gave a wry smile. "Guess we know who brings a greatsword to the knife-fight, eh? That kid I saw in the alley was lookout, the bubbers and bullies were looking for a peel 'n found us. Didn't demand jink, so we can assume they were put up. I'd reckon we're turning over the right stones if someone's out for us. Any of you well-lanned to the Lower Planes? Weren't Celestial that berk was spouting from his bone box but I'm buggered if I know what it was he said to his monkey and what language he used."
Draz sneered, "Sounded like he said 'Attack', not sure over the screamin' fools. Did it sound like,...” (here Draz growls and screeches a short phrase. It hurt the ears to listen to, but I recognized it as well.)
Isaac nodded darkly, "Aye, that's exactly what it sounded like. What's the tongue?"
"Infernal." Draz and I spoke in unison. We frowned at each other. Then we both looked away. Seemed neither of us really wanted to soul-gaze the other by mistake. (So, we're both smarter than we look.)
I glanced back at where we had fought the thugs and saw a swarm of Hivers busy rifling the dead of everything they owned. In less than a minute they had almost stripped the corpses down to their birthday suits.
Isaac watched the proceedings down Lot's Lane with a distasteful glance.
"Least someone's turning a profit today."
Bethany looked around the alley carefully. "What do you mean Isaac? Should we not search their bodies for some kind of order to attack us?" She asked, genuinely curious.
Isaac gestured towards the bodies. "The Hivers beat us to the punch, Bethany. Not a scrap left of clothes, chivs or jink. Hells, if the hair on those berks' heads was worth a green they'd take that too."
Bethany nodded slowly, "Perhaps it is best if we just continue on our way then. I am wet once again, despite Drazek's kindness, so maybe I should take to the air in case of another ambush."
Drazek looked at Bethany's drenched form with an expression that blended amusement and carnal appreciation.
"More's the pity darlin'" he drawled.
Isaac frowned for a second. I realize now that he was likely trying to figure out how to phrase his next statement without offending Bethany. (She was definitely more relaxed than she had been the previous day, but she was still very,... Imperious.)
"Y'know, Bethany... if you need jink for clothes I can loan you some. The laundress gave me her sister's (or some other relation's) address for tailoring, said she was top-shelf. And if there's a tailor anywhere on the Planes that can make clothes for someone like you, you'll find 'em in Sigil." He offered politely. Then shrugged.
"Anyways, let's quit coolin' our heels. Still work to do."
He clapped me on the shoulder as he headed down Lot's Lane.
"Oh and Justin, old son? Keep an eye out for those hardheads, eh?" He called with a wink.
We set off down Lot's Lane, eager to put the scene of the attack behind us. No Hardheads showed, not a real surprise, and after the excitement the crowd dispersed, some with a little more jink in their pockets than when they started the day. The rain continued on unabated, washing the red bloodstains down the mucky street.
We passed a dilapidated kip with the sign: Cranium rat bounty paid here, live animals only please, 2 Stingers per. I saw a withered Githzeri inside with several ugly rats in cages.
Very. Ugly. Rats. At first glance it looked like their brains were outside their skulls. I didn't take a second look.
As we finally neared the end of Lot's Lane a tout runs up to us and shoved a cheap handbill in Issac's hands.
"Best fresh meats and pets in the Hive ser! " The young tout shouted as he ran off to distribute more handbills. Curious at the lad's statement, I used my height to look over Isaac's shoulder at the flier.
The page bore a sketch of a burly, fantastically-bearded fellow, (Either a dwarf, or a fire giant. Hard to tell really.) Proclaiming “Prime Exotics, Creatures from the Prime Material Plane. Make great pets,... Or great eating! Followed by a list of common (on the Prime) creatures and some suggested uses. Including Chipmunk (A treat for the cat!), Squirrel (Meat that grows on trees!), and Miniature Giant Space Hamster (Great with the kids! (Limited Availability)). I laughed out loud as we continued.
Turning onto Stump Street, we passed dozens of cheap ale houses, theaters, burlesques and bordellos. Even in the early Afterpeak, these places were doing a bang-on business. We passed a tavern called 'Shrinkers' with a sign bearing a picture of a large rat fighting a small man.
Stump Street eventually desists and turned into Tea Street, and the Hive was left behind. We all breathed a sigh of relief. Now that we could, you know, actually breathe again. The party headed into the Clerk's Ward, passing the Tea Street Transit yard, where dozens of pony cabs awaited renting.
Yet another interlude for a brief explanation of the factions, This time, The Fated.
Isaac had been filling us in on them as we walked, since we were headed to the Clerk's Ward.
The Fated (in Sigil Cant known as 'Takers' or 'Heartless') are the record keepers and taxmen of Sigil. Their philosophy is that the strong should take what they want out of life and rely on themselves alone as much as possible. They're a popular faction for adventurers because of their acquisitive nature and slant toward self-reliance but more ethical characters (paladins for example) don't get along with them. They reason that if you're not strong enough to hold onto something yourself, you didn't deserve to have it in the first place. Hence, they're great tax collectors and often use "back taxes" as a means of forcing rival factions and individuals to give them what they want.
End Interlude on factions,
Taking the side streets to Sandstone Row from Tea Street, we passed a tavern called the Crooked Sword. Isaac and I were walking side by side, discussing factions, his energetic stride forcing my longer legs to work to keep up.
As we walked by the tavern, I glanced in the open door, distracted by the warmth and conversations going on within. It seemed like a decent bubhouse, much cleaner than any in the Hive for certain, and filled with adventurer types and a gaggle of Takers. The Hall of Records was but a few blocks away, so that was not strange. What WAS strange was the impossible thing I saw inside.
Of course it didn't register immediately. It took a few paces for what I thought I had seen to sink in. When it finally did, I did a double take, and then looked at Isaac, eyes wide with surprise. The half-elf was already looking at me with a curious look.
Issac and I slowed to a stop in tandem. Then without a word, we silently backpedaled in perfect sync the half dozen steps til we could see inside the tavern door again. Bethany and Drazek, walking behind us, were looking at us as if we had gone completely 'barmy'. For a moment I was afraid they might be right.
What had caught my attention was one particular 'cutter' seated inside. He was sitting with two obvious Takers towards the back of the common room, and he was wearing a Taken faction symbol as well. He was tall, skinny, had ginger coloring and long kinky red hair, now tied severely in a ponytail.
The berk was the spitting image of the barmy that we had found scragged in the Hive. The one who spouted all those demon lord names before we found him, dead. The one with the weird magical resonance on his body, which our investigation of had been interrupted by the Xaos gangers.
Yeah,... He looked anything but barmy now, and he was relaxing and chatting with the other two Takers. His brown waistcoat had been replaced by a rough but clean tunic and a good black wool cloak.
Isaac had not seen the body, as he was not with us, but we had described it accurately enough for him to realize what had just surprised me. He casually elbowed me in the ribs.
“I didn't know the deadbook had a page for temporary lodgers.”
Drazek sidled up.
"How 'bout we ask 'im how the visit was? Gettin' anything Justin?"
My eyebrows were threatening to hide themselves in my hairline by this point.
"Yeah, Those undertakers do great work here. He looks better than he did the last time I saw him. Cleans up real good too."
I frowned as I took the scene in, thinking, 'I have to get Skyy to give me a refresher course on the factions in this insane asylum. Course, last night she wasn't interested in talking, as such,...'
An indulgent smile touched my face for a moment, before I realized that Drazek and Isaac were waiting for me to respond.
"Um, Sure, yeah, let's go ask him how he liked it. I hear it's very relaxing. Be an interesting story I'm sure."
Isaac must have agreed, as he walked into the pub and toward the now un-deadbooked, unbarmy "Taker"'s table. His walk became more of a shamble, his face twitched seemingly at random and his shoulders slumped. Draz and I followed him in. Once I figured out what he was up to, I went to the bar and ordered a beer. Bethany followed us in, curious, but hung back towards the door.
"H-hey!", Isaac called to the man with red hair,"Do you, do you remember me? Betcha couldnna forget, hey? It's me, Phil! Phil from the warehouse, with the pains in his head? Hav-haven't seen you in a while! Wow, why's it so bright in here, hey?"
Isaac blinked and scrunched up his face.
"So what happened? I heard you were a deader. Just left for lu-lunch one day and never came back."
The three Takers looked up, the red-haired ex-barmy peering at 'Phil' oddly.
"Um, Phil? I think you might have me confused with someone else. I just got to Sigil, and I haven't really met many folks except for my new friends here in my new faction, the Fated."
The two Takers seated with him nodded.
"They was just giving me the um ..'chant' .. on what I'll be doing as a namer. You might have me confused with someone else,..."
DING! DING! Went the alarm in my mind as I turned from the bar to indirectly observe the interaction between Isaac and the guy formerly-known-as-dead. Red's reaction was way off to my finely tuned Wizard- senses. (That's 'BS Detector' to the non-magical layman.)
'Riiiight, And I'm the queen of Sheba.' I mused as I glance around the bar as if looking for someone. I was actually looking to see if anyone ELSE was taking an interest in the Taker's conversation.
No one in the bar seemed to be paying especial interest in Issac or Red and his two faction pals. Most folks were eating a late lunch, or getting an early bub on after a rough day of collecting taxes. (Must be tough. I'm glad I don't have to spend MY day telling people to give me money. That must be terrible. Ending up with a bag full of money. Every. Darn. Day.)
Drazek seemed as amused as everyone else by the crazy stranger.
I was a pro at fading into the background. If I do say so myself. The three Takers didn't even look at me. There was even an open table near them if I wanted to sit down. I took a sip of beer and considered my options while I pondered Red's reactions.
"Phil" reeled a bit, blinking, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
"C-c-couldda swore it was you, eh? Yah used to b-bring cra, cranium, cranium rat stew to work every day. Mmmm."
'Phil' licked his lips and rubbed his stomach for a second, thinking of how delicious a pot of cranium rats could be. He was interrupted by another spasm though and blinked rapidly to clear the pains in his head.
"All, alright. Enjoy your mah-meal, whoever you are."
Isaac stumbled back outside, continuing down the street for a few paces and out of sight before presumably slipping into an alley to drop the charade.
I took another sip of my beer, glancing around the bar again while idly toying with a short piece of copper wire. I was considering casting a a minor spell that would allow me to over hear the conversation. But as impressive as even simple magic can be, the simple charm I was thinking of was meant to be used for limited magical communication between willing participants. It was far too minor a charm to be cast on another without his noticing. Simple in this case was not the same as subtle. An important distinction since this bubhouse, and nearly every other watering hole we had passed, all had “NO MAGIC” signs clearly posted on their doors. In multiple languages.
I glanced at Drazek, subtly watching me and presumably preparing to cover me in the event of a necessarily hasty exit.
With a sigh of exasperation I resolved to do this the old-fashioned way. (I know that magic can't solve EVERYthing. But I like it when it can!) I tucked the little coil of wire back into my pocket, snagged my beer, and moved to the empty table I noted earlier. I sat down with my back to Red and his friends. I slumped into my chair as if resigned to a long wait, and made sure to look only from my beer to the doorway and back, as if expecting someone.
The three didn't pay me any mind. This wasn't the first time I had eavesdropped on a conversation. The two Takers with Red were regaling him with their faction and his new mission.
"We'll get you settled into a flat nearby, an' Grevis here will be your squad leader. Your job is gonna be working the streets with him in the Guildhall Ward collectin' taxes. You'll be more for show, but keep those bonebox holes open and watch what he does with yer peepers. Yeh might be takin' his job over some day once he gets to be factotum."
The other Taker, presumably Grevis, started in,
"Now I know yeh is fresh out the portal, still with a bit of Prime dust on yer boots, but yeh seemed to have adjusted to the Cage right well. I'm taking a big risk getting you on foot patrol this early in yer faction membership, but I likes a strong hand and a bold spirit. When you signed up this morning, I said to meself, Grevis ol' son, that there is a cutter wots gonna make a name for hisself. An' I'm sure you'll help me make mine as well, me foine blood!"
The two carried on in this vein for (quite) a while, then they (finally) finished up their meal.
"Right, so now we heads for the Sparkling Jewel Inn. We've got yeh a spot on the third floor, with a window, mind. Nothing but the best for our newest team member, eh Jerlin?"
The other Taker, presumably Jerlin, pipes up, looking at Red.
"Aye, yeh'll feel right at home there Tylaric, you'll see."
Red/Tylaric smiled and looked up at the other two Takers.
"I'm sure I will. You've both been good... err... bloods to me. I'll work extra hard to help you both with our missions."
With that the three got up, left their table, and headed for the door.
I finished my beer as the three got up to leave. As soon as they were outside I rose and strode slowly to the door, winking at Drazek as I passed him. Once to the door I looked around casually, noting which direction the three Takers were headed in, and stood on the porch until they were out of sight before walking to the corner of the building to meet up with Isaac and Bethany. Drazek joined us a few moments later.
In a rare moment of solidarity, Bethany, Drazek and I all actually agreed on something. 'Red' was DEFINITELY the dead barmy we had found in the alley.
"I listened to what they had to say. Nothing very incriminating, but awfully fishy." I explained.
"At first glance it was just a couple of 'experienced bloods' giving their newest member from a Prime the basics of his new gig. Only I've never heard of anyone in ANY faction giving their newest raw recruit what sounds like an important job, or nice quarters. At least I presume the 'Sparkling Jewel Inn' is nice? It sounds nice."
I looked at Isaac with a plainly skeptical look on my face.
"And when you confronted him in there, he was awfully nervous about something, the hair on the back of his neck almost stood up on end! If he WAS just a new arrival from Prime, what's he got to be nervous about in a case of mistaken identity?"
I filled the others in on the rest of the conversation, including the names of the other gents, and Red's supposedly cushy new job.
Isaac offered a grin.
"Aye, I picked up on his mood in there. I don't know if that itself is enough to raise hackles; plenty to be on edge about, 'specially for the Clueless or a berk what thinks he's Clueless. Especially when a strange (but dashing, clever and enviably handsome) barmy approaches you saying you were dead. It is queer they got him on the beat so early, though. It ain't unheard of, you know: bloods rise through the ranks much faster than berks. If a master smith walks into the Foundry looking to join up, he ain't going to be carting slag around. Waste of everyone's time. Everyone plays politics, which is seeming more and more to be at the heart of the case. A high-up blood (or someone claiming to be a high-up blood) may have pulled some strings getting their boy in.”
“Like I was saying to Bethany, I think resurrection's too expensive (and from what I hear, draining) to waste on a barmy berk. And besides, the Dusties are against it, mostly. What I think, someone convinced him he was in the deadbook, Collectors picked him up thinking he was a few greens in their palm and then someone undoes the spell and sends him on his way as a Taker. That's a quick turn-around, he was cold when your lot found 'im last antipeak, right?"
Bethany, Drazek and I all nodded. Isaac continued.
"Barmies aren't missed. Even the Bleakers can barely keep track of 'em and there're always more. So what Toranna has (and I'm as sure as I can be without hard proof that she's mixed up here) is a free, anonymous army of spies she can send into the other factions. That's the only way I can imagine this being profitable enough to go through all of this: darks from the inside. And our lad Eliath is probably out there somewhere, pretending not to be Eliath or convinced that he never was.”
Drazek snorted. "Nice l'il scam they got goin'."
I nodded my agreement with Draz as Isaac thought for a second before speaking again.
"My suggestion is that we follow up on Eliath's place and have a look-see. Then, we should arrange to meet our red-haired barmy in the antipeak. We write him a note, using his real name, saying that there's one more test or some such rot and that he should meet us somewhere. Have an urchin deliver it and see if he'll rattle his bonebox for us away from his new mates."
Drazek smirked at Isaac's suggestion. It was very unsettling.
"Sounds like a plan"
Bethany nodded as well, her bird-like bobbing motion once again doing magical things to her slip.
"I agree. Let us see what we can see at Eliath's home."
With that, despite the rain, Bethany took to the air and watched us from above.
I added my own agreement with a nod and a smirk.
"Sounds like my kind of plan. Sneaky, underhanded, and fun!”
I clapped my hands together and rubbed them briskly, unintentionally echoing Isaac's action from an hour prior, before we entered the Hive.
“Let's go see what Mr. Eli's home has to tell us."
END of Chapter 7
Ah, I hadn’t seen the new entry. Great stuff. That module was so much fun to run
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Glad you like it!
Yes it was a lot of fun.
And I've been reading ahead, (more reading, too little writing) and I stick with my original impression when I joined up long ago, we just keep getting better as we go! :)
Yep Flash, yet more proof of the great group of players and their interactions that we've had!
You all keep up the good work! Keep giving me more fun, and something else to write about!
:D
Just reread this. Excellent stuff!
Get to writing!
Taps paw
SOrry! Sorry!
I AM working on it!
AND at (long) last your ('patience' may be too strong a word?) has been rewarded!
I Give You,
Where our intrepid adventurers do a lot of walking, a lot of talking, and a little flying,...
Justin's Story, Chapter 8
Where our derring do-gooders do a lot of walking, a lot of talking, and a little flying
Silver Rose Adventures, Page 82-86
Isaac, Bethany, Drazek and myself regroup outside the Crooked Sword tavern once the three Takers depart. The mysteriously 'back-from-the-dead-Red' among them. We decide that Scholar’s Row and the elusive Eli’s kip should be our next destination.
Heading out from under the lintel we’d been sheltering under, the group walks down Sandstone Row heading towards the distant spire of the Hall of Records. The rain continues to pour down from the dark grey and yellow clouds, but the roads are much easier to traverse, as the cobbles are in good repair and the gushing rain waters are sluiced down large sewer grates. The pedestrians are neatly dressed, with nary a drunken bubber or a bawdy jinkskirt in sight. Red-armored Harmonium foot patrols begin to appear regularly, (Not in the right district for me to win that bet with Isaac.), swaggering down the street and giving anyone who looks out of place the evil eye. The stores begin to deal with scholarly pursuits: Copyists, parchment sellers, accountants and the like. (I frequented a parchment seller around the corner, actually.)
Passing by the formidable tower of the Hall of Records, they group segues onto Scholar’s Row. The rain-hissing streets begin to fill with scurrying clerks and scribes, released from their daily grind by the advent of Before Antipeak. The several taverns the group passes are filling with black-robed stoop-shouldered men with the occasional flashily-dressed Taker high-up in residence like a peacock in a henhouse. (It's easy to spot a Tax Collector in a crowd. He's the one with all of YOUR money!)
The Fated faction member’s presence is thick on Scholar’s Row. One reason looms out of the rain as the group walks on: The Hall of Information. The Hall of Information’s a stately edifice of blue marble edged in onyx, its sparkling crystal windows framed in turquoise. A pair of marble ramps leading inside run between three marble columns. The words on each column (one per capital) taken together summarize the Hall’s credo: COOPERATION, COMPLIANCE, and CONTROL. Outside the blue-marbled building is a milling crowd of fact-seekers, touts, scribes and various loiterers watching the crowd of Cagers all looking for some dark they hope to pry from the Heartless’ hands. Mercykiller guards in their signature spiked armor stand at the foot of the two ramps, their hard eyes scanning the crowd.
A few city blocks past the Hall of Information, Scholar’s Row begins to get a bit less orderly and dignified. Young cutters wearing Xaos multicolored mohawks and Bleaker black cluster around taverns with names like 'Back Row', 'Snapped String' and 'Drunken Muse'. Street performers begin to multiply, a sight that was in short supply in the other parts of the Clerk’s Ward.
Pawn shops, book shops, music shops and art galleries replace accountancy firms and scribe houses. Above all this a large randomly-colored building looms, with garrets and towers, spikes and finials, gargoyles and cupolas sprouting from its sides like a Slaad birthday cake. A sign in gothic lettering above an entryway proclaims the building as the 'Lazz School of Vivid Unpleasantness'. Lovely. I mentally added THAT to the ever-growing list of 'Places I Never Want to go'.
The road that runs down the side of it, linking Scholar’s Row to Crystal Dew Lane , is Scrivner's Court, where the kip of Eliath presumably can be found.
Wading through a clove-scented fog of dripping students busy searching out an evening’s entertainment, we spot Falanna's Boarding House. It is a seedy pile, with peeling window casings and razorvine crawling up the patchwork stone façade of its first four stories. Shaky timber additions add another three stories to the building, leaning drunkenly over the street. The door is solid ironwood though, with a sign reading VACANCY: Inquire within. No musicians
"Bloody razorvine.," Issac says, mostly to himself, "Guess climbing up ain't an option."
My own frown mirrors Issac's when I spot the razorvine on the building. That stuff is Evil. With a Capitol 'E'. And I don't climb.
I took a look around the front of the building and the surrounding street.
The street is lined with boarding houses, many of which seem to be hosting impromptu jam sessions or private parties. There are a few regular shops on the street, many geared towards academia or basic foodstuffs. The door at Falanna's looks solid and well-kept, and the knocker is a polished brass gargoyle. The people passing by are young folk for the most part, but a few older folk are sprinkled in. Despite this being the Clerk's Ward there are few Takers about, and the dress code is more in line with Xaos/Bleaker/Indep styles. Most of the folks seem to have oilskin satchels on their person, and several carry musical instruments or painting/sculpting materials. No one is loitering about on the road, probably since the rain is still pouring down like wine at a Bacchanalia.
Carefully, Isaac takes a quick look up and down the street before trying the knob and knocking at the sturdy door. The brass gargoyle booms on the ironwood door.
A view slit opens and a blue eye looks out. A gravelly voice issues from the small opening.
"What can I do for yeh cutter?"
Issac tugs at his forelock politely. "Hullo, cutter. Our mate, Eliath, was recently penned in the deadbook and we were hoping to have a look at his kip to see if anything's been left. Signs of a struggle, notes or anything what might give us a glimmer of who could have done him. May we come in?"
There is the sound of a bolt pulling back and the door swings in to reveal a grey haired late-middle aged lady. Several cats twine their way around her voluminous bright-colored peasant skirts. She looks at the motley crew and sighs
"Ol' Eli's in the dead book? That's a right shame it is. He was me best boarder, took me biggest apartment, always payed up for the full cycle in advance. Never a bother, never had loud parties."
She squints at us all suspiciously.
"Do yeh have a notice that he was put in the dead book? Yeh don't look like Fated after the death tax. I can't rightly let yeh into his apartment on jest yer say so. Though he has been gone for about two weeks. I was getting worried, but he was always popping off to this place and that."
I got the feeling that this lady liked to talk. I could respect that.
"If yeh can gets a member of the Harmonium or a Fated with a warrant I'll be happy to oblige yeh, but I can't jest let any sod off the streets go traipsing through me lodger's apartments." She adds with a stubborn set to her jaw that only little old ladies seem to have mastered.
Issac held up his empty hands in surrender. "Perfectly understandable, ma'am and I hope you won't mind my saying that your discretion is quite laudable. In my line of work, I come in contact with quite a few less-than-scrupulous landlords, more than willing to betray their boarders for a handful of greens."
"As for our identification, madame, my name is Isaac and these are my associates Bethany, Justin and Drazek."
Issac motions to the silver brooch on his vest that Renkar gave everyone yesterday.
"We are agents of the Silver Rose; a private securities outfit based off of Copperman Way. We found out recently that Eliath had first disappeared and was then recorded as deceased by the Dustmen. I'll spare you the details, since I can see that you were fond of him. Since the officers of the Harmonium are quite indisposed because of other duties and because of some tricky bureaucratic problems between the Fated and the Dustmen, we haven't been able to obtain the paperwork. We wouldn't even be bothering you in the first place if we weren't sure that Eliath's disappearance and unfortunate death needed quick investigation. If you would rather not ask us in (and as I said, perfectly understandable), would you mind answering a few questions about him and his stay here?"
The lady (Falanna I presumed?) ponders a bit then seems to come to a conclusion.
"Well, it's a rough peak out there it is, an' I can see yeh've been in the cold an' wet for a trice. Ahh, come in, an' I'll fix yeh summat to warm yer gullet up with."
The woman turns and shuffles inside, her cats following like a live bridal train.
"Would yeh slip the bolt once yer in? There's always cony catchers about this neighborhood. Bleedin blexpated students.."
I blinked, surprised at Isaac's success. My new companions were ALL full of surprises. I gratefully follow Issac and the odd old lady inside, and obligingly shut and bolt the door for her once Drazek and Bethany join us.
The woman shuffles into a large sitting room and gestures at a long dining table set at the back of it.
"Have a seat there an' I'll fix us some tea and biscuits."
We all sit in the overstuffed chairs as she shuffles into what seems to be a kitchen. There's a clanking and rattling sound as she gets her dishes together. I idly pet one of the friendlier cats while we wait for our hostess to return. Looking around, the room is done in faded needleworks and tapestries, with several couches and chairs scattered about the large room. The furniture is well-kept but old, and there is a smell of old things, cats and mildew about. A line of water drips down one wall, escaping down a crack in the floor. Several cats investigate us as we wait on the lady's return. We all look at each other and the room curiously, but no one says anything.
The woman returns with a teapot and cups for all. She puts out some thin wafer crackers on a chipped plate and sits down.
When I saw her tea service, I smile with appreciation. "Thank you m'lady. This is very nice, I haven't had a proper tea since I arrived in Sigil." I offered pleasantly.
The landlady smiles at me, clearly appreciating the flattery. "It's so nice to meet a proper mannered gentleman."
I keep an eye on the elderly lady, and classy Bethany, seeing how they take their tea before fixing my own cup. (I'm not picky, not about TEA anyway. But I know that in some societies, how you drink the offered tea reveals whether or not you are 'civilized', or at least well-mannered, and I really don't want to offend the lady who might have useful information!)
After accepting and fixing the tea the same way that the landlady does, I sip it, raising an appreciative eyebrow at the unusual flavor. I mean, it wasn't any 'gold-coin-per-leaf' tea, but I am an expert on 'living high while the coin-purse is low', and it actually tastes relatively decent, most likely a Bytopian blend or something from Yen-Wang-Yeh's realm in the Outlands.
"Now, what would yeh like to know about Eli? If yeh could tell me summat about his passing I'd be much obliged." The landlady implored querulously, surrounded by a variety of felines in a variety of poses. Yeah, she was over-acting it a bit, but I could tell she was truly curious. After all, even in Sigil, it's not everyday that you find out your 'best boarder' has been killed in such a way as to attract the attention of such an, UNUSUAL team as ours.
"Yes, Well," I said, coughing gently to clear my throat as I glanced around at my companions. I was going to let Mr-Smooth keep talking, (Isaac, not Draz!) but our charming Ranger had been caught mid-sip of his own tea, and gave no indication he intended to put it down anytime soon. (Thanks pal.) I took a breath and smiled.
"Well, I'm afraid the fine details of his demise are what we are trying to uncover. And there are some details we can't discuss as we were hired to try and find Elias, confidentiality for our client, you understand. But I don't believe that there is any reason that I can't tell you what we know from talking to people that you could talk to yourself!" I offered cheerfully with a wink.
"It seems that Elias was doing what he normally does, researching information from libraries for a client, when something,... Happened. Exactly what is what we're trying to figure out. But what we do know is that he vanished from his usually frequented spots, and was seen in the Hive Ward, acting 'Barmy'. After that he was found, I'm sorry," I say softly, "He was found in an alley and taken by the collectors. The official report is that he was identified and then cremated."
I pause and take a sip of my tea, giving the elderly landlady time to digest this news. She looks suitably horrified, but leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear more.
"But, as Isaac mentioned, there seems to be several things out of place about his unfortunate demise. We were actually hoping that you might be able to tell us more of his usual habits, and if you noticed anything unusual about him or his behavior the last few times you saw him. And, of course, we were hoping that there might be something in his rooms that would help us to understand what might make an intelligent, quiet, well-known researcher suddenly,... give up a job and go missing?" I finish with a smile and a shrug.
"Anything you can tell us about the last time you saw Elias might be absolutely invaluable. And would be immensely appreciated." I add, taking another sip of tea without taking my eyes off of her.
The elderly landlady sips her tea and thinks a moment.
"Well, Eliath was a quiet man, very bookish, always had his beezer stuck in some musty wizard's tome. He used to take meals with me, I offer that service to certain of me boarders, but he wasn't much of a conversationist. I do know he was real busy-like the last time I saw him almost two weeks ago. He had skipped a few meals, and he had mentioned he might have to go out of the Cage for a bit, one reason I didn't think anything was wrong, really. I can't say for sure when he was last here, me boarders have a separate entrance and exit around back of me building, and he could've been around for a bit, but I'd say almost two weeks for pretty much certain."
I restrained myself to simply nodding as the lady speaks, and take another sip of the tea. Again, It wasn't bad actually. I consider myself a big fan of Kafee, (If there's plenty of honey to put in it) especially when working long hours, but the tea was pleasantly flavorful. My eyebrows furrow at the mention of the back entrance, and I glanced at Isaac. He merely blinked in return. I turned back to the landlady with a small smile.
"Well, perhaps he was just a shy man, or perhaps very good at keeping his client's research confidential. What we know about him indicates that he could regale you for hours with tales of ancient history from probably a dozen planes!" I offer pleasantly. My mind raced for a second.
"Out of curiosity, how many apartments and renters do you have? Elias seems to have been a quiet individual who kept mostly to himself. Besides spending some mealtimes with you, do you know if he spent any time with any of the other boarders?"
The landlady ponders briefly. "I can't be sure, I rent to faculty and older students of the Lazz mostly. Eliath was one of the few wot didn't have a tie to the school that I know of. They knew him, I'm sure, but I'd bet Stingers to squash that none of them knew him all that well. He was a quiet cutter."
She frowns at my other question. "I have 18 apartments, all up to code. Some cutters pair up in their kips, but I runs a clean legal boardinghouse here, all by the books."
I bit my lower lip. "Ma'am, I'll be honest with you. The only reason that we can think of that someone might want to do,... anything, to Elias is to find out something that he knows. And anyone willing to take a person wouldn't have many qualms about searching an apartment. With your permission, I'd like to examine the boarder's entrance, make sure that no one without a key hasn't forced their way in. I'll sleep much better tonight knowing that the safety of your home hasn't been compromised." I say solemnly. I was hoping that expressing concern for her safety and mentioning an unspecified, unscrupulous villain might give her reason to cooperate with us.
Buuuuuut, I had overreached a bit. Somewhere. Clearly I had underestimated how protective she was of her apartments. Or at least of something. The cold shoulder that I got from her was immediately palpable.
"If that's the case I'll get Measure Mirrebeau to come out an' open his kip up. He's the head Harmonium in this neighborhood. I don't want no trouble from the courts coz I was rooting about in someone's things." Falanna said politely, but the genuine warmth was gone from her voice.
I felt my eyes widen just a fraction at the landlady's cool response. Then I smiled in understanding.
"Oh, OH! Of course ma'am. I didn't mean to imply anything! I was just wondering how many renters you had, and if any of them might have known Elias, that's all. Most of the houses I've seen don't have but 3 or 4 apartments, at most. I didn't realize that you owned the entire building." I say, putting a smidge of 'obviously impressed' into my tone.
Isaac clears his throat, seeming a bit embarrassed.
"Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but... may I use your water closet?"
The landlady nods and gestures,
"Right off the kitchen ducks, small door by the pantry."
Isaac stands and heads in the direction of the WC. I noted his keen eyes scan the apartment as he moved. I give Issac a jaunty wave as he exits, grateful for the break in the tension I had inadvertently caused.
I sigh softly but deliberately. "And with approximately 20 or so other people living in the building, and the prevalence of magic in Sigil, it's highly unlikely that the other door was forced.” I muse resignedly, (making it clear that I wasn't going to push the issue of seeing the apartment.)
“That only leaves,... wait a moment,..." I mutter. My eyes narrow as I replay the conversation with the landlady in my mind.
"I'm sorry. You said that when you last saw Elias, about 2 weeks ago, he had mentioned that he might leave the Cage for a bit. And that was why you weren't concerned when you didn't see him for a while. Did he normally travel a lot? I got the impression that he was a stay-at-home researcher, you know, libraries and books, but stayed in Sigil?" I ask with a confused look. But I couldn't keep the hopeful tone out of my voice,...
"I, don't suppose he mentioned where he might be going?"
The landlady pauses, but I got the distinct impression that she wasn't trying to remember, so much as trying to figure out how little she could say.
"He did say summat about mayhap going to the Outlands. He did go off once in a while fer work he allus said. Other than that, I can't say aught else. He was a cutter wot played his darks close to the vest, if yeh get me drift."
Isaac casually walks back from the water closet, seemingly relieved and at peace with the world.
"So. How long do you usually spend parking your eyes and ears on the tenant entrance?"
The landlady starts at this query, clearly caught by surprise. She wasn't the only one. I blinked. A glance to the side showed me that even Draz blinked at that. And Bethany momentarily looked more like an owl than a harpy.
"Wotcher mean? The door there? Ain't much to park on it, just a stairway is all. Only those wot wants to visit me uses it, most of me boarders go out the back stair." the old lady's voice rose a pitch or three.
Isaac throws up his hands and smiles a placating gesture.
"Just wondering; my brainbox tends to get tangled with my bonebox at times. Gettin' my boxes crossed, is all. Just wondering if you take a peek here and there is all, just who's gettin' in out the rain and who's giving the place the laugh. Can't blame a body gettin' curious: it's your case, after all."
Issac leans in, still smiling.
"For a blood that kept himself cooped like a monastery pigeon, Eliath sure had some odd coves looking to pick his brainbox. Nope, I'd reckon you can't blame a body gettin' curious now and then."
Man, I am SLOW sometimes. But eagle-eye Issac must have seen something in the kitchen area that gave him the clue I had missed.
The landlady seemed kinda nervous when I asked about boarders. When Issac mentioned 'parking eyes' she also got a bit flustered. Whatever else is going on, she probably peeps as well. (I couldn't even really blame her, I guess. She was a little old lady who ran a boarding house, and was probably bored out of her gourd most of the time. But I'll bet that her renters might not appreciate it if they found out!)
"Even if I could peep in I wouldn't, I respects me boarder's privacy." Falanna says in a wounded tone. She gets up from the table.
"If you cutters don't mind, I have some errands to attend to. If yeh want, I can get Measure Mirrebeau over here, otherwise, I'm afraid I can't do much aught for yeh." She says in clipped tones, the interview clearly over as far as she is concerned.
Isaac glances to everyone else, then nods. "Aye, let's see Mover Mirrebeau and we'll be out of your hair."
The landlady nods, relaxing just a touch.
"Yeh'll most likely find him down at the Lute and Harp three blocks down. I don't fancy he'll be walking the streets on an Antipeak like this! Tell him that Falanna wants him to be a witness in opening a boarder's apartment, on suspicion that he's been penned in the dead book. He'll most likely come back with yeh."
I should point out that both Drazek and Bethany had been exceptionally quiet during this interview. (I didn't think Draz had that much self-control.) Bethany had already proven that she had self-control, she just didn't usually think that us non-elite's were worth the effort. Apparently she had been practicing.
Then I realized that Beth had most likely been distracted by the swarm of cats that occupied the apartment. A few of whom kept trying to bat at her wing-feathers even as we rose to leave. She looked like she wished she could pull out that wooden sabre of hers and behead the accursed felines. (I'm glad she didn't. That probably wouldn't have aided our cause overmuch.)
Pulling up his hood, Issac heads for the door. "Much obliged. Thanks for th' help. Be back with the Measure." He says politely and professionally.
I smile at the elderly landlady, and finish my tea with a satisfied sigh. (I really wasn't looking forward to going back out in that downpour.)
"Of course, sorry to have taken so much of your time. Thank you very much for talking with us, You have been a great help. And thank you again for the tea!" I smile.
Under the brief excuse for a porch I hastily pull up my own hood once more. Bethany mutters something impolite about rain and hardheads, and launches herself into the air. Drazek was just,... Drazek. I let Isaac lead the way, content to let the local lead in this miserable weather.
The group stepped out into the rain again. The light was rapidly fading, and Scrivner's Court was busy with young cutters walking to and fro, hooded cloaks over their dripping heads. The faint sound of music and laughter issued from several buildings as we walked along looking for the neighborhood local.
Along the way I mutter aloud, just barely loud enough to be heard by my companions over the dingy downpour. (At least the ones who aren't flying!)
"She was, nervous about something. But I didn't get the impression that she was involved with anything regarding Elias. I think she was nervous about getting the constabulary involved regarding her apartments! You say she has a peep-spot in the back? Wonder how much she really saw,..."
Isaac shrugs.
"Like as not, cutter, she's just been sardine-ing her boarders and stays occupied by parkin' her ears. Nothing new; the price of a kip is dear and the space is even dearer. Living in a big ring ain't all it's cracked up to be and sods often end up stacked like cordwood."
I merely nodded in reply, happy to have my theory validated. I concentrated on finding the pub without letting the rain get under my hood. Any MORE rain under my hood. (Yep. Good luck with THAT in Sigil.)
Three blocks down a small cheery tavern sports a sign with a lute and a harp. It seems to be full of students, but there is a table by the hearth where three men in red armor sit drinking and eating a large leg of lamb with potatoes. Their helmets are off, revealing two young men and one older man. They seem in good spirits, and the other patrons are studiously ignoring them.
As we enter the tavern, I sigh. "Do YOU want to talk to them?" I ask Isaac with a resigned look. "You speak the local dialect here, and I don't want to go getting us arrested because I said something that they misunderstood!" I explain with a frown.
I mean, the Harmonium don't bother me Per Se, I am friends with Murphy after all, Possibly the shortest (and cutest) lil' bad-@$$ ever to wear red enameled armor, but not all of the Hardheads take being friends with ME as a good thing. I didn't recognize these three and didn't want to add to Murphy's problems by dropping her name straight off.
I also look with undisguised admiration at the plate of food the three red-garbed harmonium are conquering, and it reminds me that I haven't taken much of a break today. I stop myself from drooling. Barely. (Wizardly Self-Control. Gotta love it.)
Issac shakes his head thoughtfully.
"Hardheads rub me the wrong way, but I'll rattle the bonebox if I have to. But I don't tumble to getting them involved, either. Think it's worth the chant; they may step on our toes or tell us flat-out to take heel? I just thought that we came all this way, me halfway penned in the deadbook in the process, we should get all the chant. Even if it means hardheads."
I nodded in agreement, and hung behind near the others as the half-elf headed straight for the Harmonium's table. Bethany hung back by the doorway, clearly not wanting to interact with the Harmonium unless she absolutely had to. (I briefly wondered what they had done to ruffle HER feathers. Literally.) Drazek stood by the door as well, looking studiously bored. (Although by the frequent leering glances he tossed towards the Harpy, I figured I knew what he was thinking about. And it wasn't anyone with red armor.)
Reluctantly, Isaac walks over to the Harmonium table.
"Sorry to interrupt, cutters, but I'm looking for Measure Mirrebeau. Falanna needs him to act as witness to opening a boarder's kip on account of bein' penned in the deadbook."
The older Hardhead looks up from his meal.
"That'd be me. Falanna needs to open up a kip eh? No worries cutter, let me finish me supper. Are you a new boarder of Falanna's?"
The younger two sweep their eyes over Bethany, Justin and Drazek standing by the entrance.
Issac shrugged, from what I knew of him I figure he was considering that this Measure Mirabeau seemed alright. As much as anyone can tell from two sentences at least. The half-elf shakes his head slightly.
"No, not a boarder. I'm taking a gander into her tenant's disappearance and death, just want to see if there's any sign of foul play at his kip or if there's anything lying about that could point me toward piecing together the dark of it."
Measure Mirrebeau looks us all over. He seems to actually be thinking, not judging. (Maybe he IS one of Murphy's friends?)
"Right. Yeh've got the looks of hired investigators. I'll need yer names, who yeh're workin' for, and I'll need yer kip's address."
Issac signals the rest of us to come in and get situated.
"We're gonna let the man finish his supper 'fore we go. We can grab a table and a quick bite. Justin, you look more a scarecrow than ever. Let's pretend you won our bet and I'll treat for a bite to hold us over."
I smirk at Isaac with my Patented Wizardly Arched Eyebrow. Level Two. (Patent Pending)
"Whad'yeh mean 'pretend' I won our bet?!? And I cultivate this look for a reason! Not only is it good for getting out of tight spots, but if business gets too slow, I can always rent myself out for 'field' work!" I quip with cheerful sarcasm.
Issac orders a bit of lamb (it's the special) with vegetables for himself and some drinks for the group. Bethany joined us with waddling dignity, but only ordered water. (Clearly, she wasn't, quite, willing to try alcohol again. Yet.) Drazek just grunted and ended up drinking something vile but not nearly as flammable as our previous drinking outing.
We ate hastily, but enjoyed the rushed meal. We even joked with each other a little. We finished eating just as Measure Mirrebeau and his two minions were rising from their own table.
I give the Measure my own once-over. Mirrebeau looks pretty decent for a Hardhead. He's paunchy, and has the look of an officer that knows the layout of every tavern on his beat. Intimately. His face is a red-veined map of Sigil, his nose a red tomato. He walks over and grabs a cloak off the hearth rack, his two friends doing the same. He clomps over steadily to our small table, pulling out a small, battered, leather-bound notebook and small stub of a charcoal stick.
"Ready when you are ...what did you say yer names were?" He states without preamble.
I politely nod to the older officer, and give him my name when he looks at me, but I otherwise allow Issac to be the face man for this particular contact.
I figured, Isacc knew how to talk their, um, 'chant'. If he decided that he wanted them seriously annoyed, then I could step in and do MY thing.
The gray-haired harmonium jots down our information, nods, tucks away the notebook, and everyone heads back out into the dark rainy Antipeak. Yay.
The group hurries the three blocks and knocks again at Falanna's door. The landlady lets us all in, whereupon she and Mirrebeau chat for a bit, (As she told us earlier, they were apparently well-acquainted.) then she leads everyone up to the third floor.
The third floor is all one suite. She opens the door, and I see a very well-appointed library. Shelves of books line the walls, and there is a large desk strewn with papers, inkpots and a dozen quills. There are a few glass alembics and other alchemical items on a table along the end. I wasn't jealous. Nope. Not one bit.
OK, maybe just a LITTLE bit.
The room seems cluttered, but not ransacked. Measure Mirrebeau looks at us all flatly.
"So wotcher lookin' for? I don't want yeh all pawing through this lot, not till I've got a certificate from the Dusties that alls square. If yeh want, I'll go in with one sod, and the rest can stay out in the hallway."
I grandly gesture for Issac to do the honors, knowing full well that the tracker's ability to spot anything almost anywhere will be far more useful than my own ability to read a dozen languages. He just as grandly accepts my invitation and steps forward, following the Measure into the chambers.
"Honestly? I'm hoping for a big book titled "How I Did It: My Disappearance and Anonymous Death, the Life and Times of Eliath". But I'll settle for notes, itineraries, shopping lists or other contacts from the last two weeks." Issac told Mirrabeau as he seemed to only give the room a casual once-over. (I have since come to know, very well, that Issac's 'once-over' is the equivalent of anothers 12-man search party!)
I leaned casually against the doorframe, "Hm. I was hoping for a book titled, "My Latest Research: The Big Secret Worth Killing Me to Keep", But I like the autobiography too. Sounds good, just be careful. The room doesn't look like it was ransacked, but if it was searched by a professional, you don't want to eradicate any traces he may have left. OR set off a trap he may have left for anyone following him." I advised. I looked at the officer.
"With your permission, if you DO find anything, I'd like to be able to examine it. Isaac can track a falcon on a cloudy day, but I have a better chance of detecting any residual magical energies, or translating a foreign language." I ask politely.
Mirrebeau snorts.
"Look away. Jest tell me if yeh need to touch anything. This is still someone's kip until death has been established." Then stands in the center of the room, watching Issac like a hawk. (Issac could have given him lessons.)
Isaac looks about the room. I watched on from the doorway. From what I could see, it pretty much confirms to the image I have of Eliath as a studious bookwyrm. Issac notes aloud that many of the books look to be hand copied by the sage. Soon the Half-elf decides the desk is the most interesting place, with it's several piles of loose papers. A scrap of foolscap with something on it catches his eye.
Isaac pulls a stub of hard charcoal from one of his pockets and a scrap of paper from the other and copies down whatever it is he sees. He indicates a journal on the desk to the Measure.
"Say, cutter, you mind if I have a quick look through this?"
Measure Mirrabeau grunts neutrally, so Issac takes it as a 'Yes'. He flips the journal open to take a peek at the bookmarked page, takes a few more quick notes, and puts the charcoal back in his pocket.
"Thanks, Measure. I reckon we can give this place the laugh with enough chant to go on." Issac says, motioning us to precede him down the narrow stairway.
Measure Mirrebeau follows Falanna and the group out of the apartment. He harumphs and looks to the landlady as he pulls his hood up against the rain.
"Once I get word from the Takers, we'll come back and inventory the lot. You should make up a final bill sos we can deduct any cost for yeh."
The Measure looks at the Silver Rose group. He nods.
"Thanks for the heads up on Eliath. I'll check the records out next peak. If you need another gander let me know, but do it quick. The Fated will probably send a packing crew over within three or four days."
Isaac nods in return to the Harmonium officers.
"Much obliged, cutters. We'll let you know if we need to do any further peeking, but I reckon we've found the darks we were looking for."
The three Hardheads set back out into the rain. Falanna politely bids us 'Good Peak', and firmly shuts the door behind us, leaving us alone in the rain. I hear the sound of the bolt being thrown.
Issac turns to the rest of us, the same happy-to-be-here look on his face that he almost always wears.
"So. Any of you cutters heard of a tome called 'Talimzar's The Grey Realm?' Our man was sniffing it out 'fore he went barmy, it seems." He holds out his scrap of note paper, and I snag it from him eagerly.
In Issac's surprisingly neat handwriting is a copy of the paper on the desk.
Possibles
SoLA: scratched out
Lady's Library: scratched out
SoAE: scratched out
Hall of Records: scratched out
Hall of Information: scratched out
The Ossuary: scratched out
The Parted Veil: scratched out
Brimstone's Books: not scratched out
Ragpicker's Square stalls: not scratched out
In slightly less neat, hasty writing is presumably what Issac copied out of the journal;
"I have had difficulty tracking down the whereabouts of Talimzar's The Grey Realm. The only copy known to be in existence was owned by a wizard named Rhaunades, but his collection was broken up after his death over 30 cycles ago. I had hoped that my wizardly comrades might have picked it up, but none of the gentleman's libraries seem to know where the book went. I've checked the normal obvious places, now I have to start combing the booksellers of the Lower Ward."
As I pored over Issac's copied notes, Bethany shrugs at Issac's inquiry. She said she was just glad to be away from the Harmonium, although she did admit, these three weren't as stuffy as the ones she ran into after she arrived. Maybe when we get to know each other more, she'll be willing to talk about it.
"I've never heard of it, but only being new to Sigil, that's not surprising.” The Harpy answered Issac primly. “We need to find out where one could possibly find such a tome, although if someone with Eliath's supposed talents couldn't find it, I'm not sure we can do much better."
She looks over at me. "What do you say O Master Magician?"
I looked up and blinked.
"Hm, Sorry? Did you say something?”
The look that Bethany gave me was adorable. In the 'Canary that ate the Cat' kind of way.
“ANYway,” I coughed, “The name 'Rhaunades' rings a bell. He was a top-shelf caster who is still talked about in Sigil in arcane circles. He was killed on an expedition to Limbo. 'Talimzar' rings a much fainter bell. I,... seem to remember hearing he was a planar explorer from a couple centuries ago? Can't remember more than that."
Issac scratches thoughtfully at one cheek.
“I've seen Brimstone's Books, it's a shop that deals with used tomes. It's run by a tiefling named, what else, Brimstone.” The half-elf chuckles.
"That bookstore's right by Ragpicker's Square if you bloods are up for another trip to the Hive. Ain't sayin' I am, exactly, but now's as good a time as any."
I nod eagerly and grin at Isaac's suggestion.
"We're not getting any younger, and this mystery isn't going to solve itself! If the last two spots on the list are so close together, I say we hit both of them. I would really like to take a look at this book that Elaith seemed so intent on getting a copy of."
Bethany takes a look at the list by peeking around my elbow and chips in.
"Well I agree we should try and get to those last two places, but what are the chances of the book still being there after two weeks of Eliath's disappearance? I mean, if someone were looking to off Eliath over his work, maybe they would also be trying to track down this book as well."
"Will they even be open at this hour? How far away are they Isaac and would it be worth waiting until the morning?"
Hrm, Bethany had some good points. It was about 8 PM if we were on a Prime Plane, (or the 2nd hour of 'Before Antipeak' as they call it in Sigil). Renkar wasn't expecting us back at any set time, so we were free to do as we wished. Brimstone's Books is down a small road that connects Hellgate (more specifically the Alley of Dangerous Angles) to Ragpicker's Square. The road, Nox Lane, is known for shops dealing in goods of fiendish origin. (I didn't think until later, MUCH later, that THAT should have been a clue as to what we were getting ourselves into.)
I look across the city of Sigil. Or I try to. The Before Antipeak streets are still slick with rain, and more comes falling out of the darkened sky. There is no Cage Arch to see tonight, the hearth fires of the other side of Sigil are obscured by the dark storm clouds. Nonetheless, the group decides to check out Brimstone's Books. The only problem is the fastest way back is through the Hive. Considering the welcome we received the last time we took a stroll there during daytime, I mean 'Peaktime', it was a sure bet the walk would be,... interesting in the evening, (Dangit) 'Antipeak' hours.
I glance at Issac, who had FAR better knowledge of the streets of Sigil than I do. (I can read a map just fine thank you. But Issac MAKES them.)
Isaac looks pensive, probably calculating routes in his head, considering the time of the evening and the possibility of getting anything useful from the most recent 'darks'.
"Not sure on Brimstone's inventory or even if Eliath got there before going barmy. Might be open at this hour; Brimstone's a fiendish cove and he caters to the same. Not exactly morning folk. Don't go sayin' that I'm stereotypin', either; I know from experience." The half-elf said wryly.
"It's close if we cut through the Hive again, but that Ward gets nastier the further a berk gets from Peak and the borders. I ain't keen on any more monkey-loving either. Safer to go all the way around the Cage, but the weather and the hour ain't making me fond of that. We're likely better off trying to get the chant from our resurrected deader if you cutters don't want to turn in yet."
The group decided to walk down Crystal Dew Lane and head towards the Festhall District while we discussed our options. I pulled my hood down further over my head, trying to keep the persistent dirty water from getting any more into my face.
"I prefer fire over water,... IF you can even call this water." I complained miserably. (What? It had been a long, wet day, and my feet were sore.)
"It's too thick to drink, and too thin to plow!" I continued to grumble fiercely as I wiped a particularly persistent trickle from the end of my nose.
As we walk by a tavern, a wall of faded broadsheets catches Isaac's eye. A half-papered over sheet curling at the edges proclaims the following:
Amberion's Awesome Aerial Adventures!
Enhance your repertoire of sensations with a truly new experience!
View the wonder of Sigil from an Angel's eye view!
Be the envy of your Sensate friends when you are the first to experience this truly magical ride!
Third block from the Civic Festhall, just off Crystal Dew Lane! Look for our sign!
Management does not insure safety of riders. Riders must follow instructions of driver or risk death by falling. All sales final.
Isaac does a double-take at the flyer. "What the..."
"I'm no Guvner, but I have my doubts as to whether such an institution is fully bonded and licensed by the city of Sigil."
Issac shudders theatrically.
"Ugh. Just being around hardheads is enough to make a basher think like one..."
Isaac shrugs his shoulders, shaking the rigid lawfulness from his demeanor.
"This 'Aerial Adventure' may be interesting. Let's check it out, eh? Then we can head in and start fresh tomorrow. Us land-dwelling berks can get a sense of what we're missing up there in the smoggy, tea-brown Sigil sky, eh Bethany?"
Bethany looks over the advertisement and snorts.
"And why wouldn't you mu... land dwellers want to experience the exhilaration of the open air? It is an experience that you will not wish to give up once you have tried it."
"Aye, I imagine it's just so." Issac agrees sagely.
I mused over the handbill myself and shrugged my soggy shoulders. At this point my coat was so wet it felt like suit of armor. Issac turned and led the way once more.
The flying place lies close to the massive pile of the Civic Festhall, which dominates the skyline with it's massive bulk soaring 1,000 feet into the grey sky. Sensates brave the rain, some run naked laughing through it. (Probably ending up dirtier than when they started out.) Taverns, bordellos, gambling halls, massage parlors surround the area, as do meditation gardens, martial arts academies, philosopher's coffeehouses and every form of experience a cutter could want.
The actual building is easy to spot, as it sports a mural with an Arabian theme with turbaned jinn and a flying carpet portrayed. The price listed is 50 GP for a cross-Sigil trip. The door is shut on the building, but there are lights on inside.
Well, we looked, and there weren't any signs that said they weren't open, so Isaac knocked on the door.
A swarthy man in a slightly-askew turban and desert-style clothing answers the door. When he speaks, it is with an overly-dramatic, heavy accent only used by those who have clearly never been to another country. Let alone Plane.
"Ah! Late-night thrill seekers! Do you wish to partake in Amberion's Awesome Aerial Adventures?!?"
His spiel sounds so canned he should be a tomato.
Never one to miss a playful opportunity, Isaac's eyes light up and a boyish smile spreads across his face.
"Yes, sir, we do!", he responds enthusiastically,"Now, is this a round trip beginning and ending here or will you drop us off in another ward?"
"I'll be happy to bring yeh wherever yeh wants cutter, long as the jink's solid. If this ain't a Clueless gig, I'd like to dress a bit more appropriate fer the weather."
His pseudo-dervish accent drops when he sees our group clearly, and he speaks pure Cager Cant with a 'native' accent heavier than Issac's. He indicates that he will be a moment, and closes the door.
I raised a soggy eyebrow when the salesman's accent vanishes quicker than stingers to a jinkskirt.
"Nice." I told Isaac as the salesman ducks back inside for his change of clothes.
"Were you thinking of us riding to the bookstore? Or just thinking it's a quick way to the Rose?" I ask, refusing to look up at the seemingly endlessly depressing sky.
"Either way I'm in. I always wanted to fly. I just never thought I would associate it with swimming!" I smirked wryly, flapping a sheet of water from my coat sleeves.
"I was thinkin' the Rose. Riding it into the Hive might save one trip, but there would still be the matter of getting out again. A berk would have to be pretty addled to relish that walk, unless they already lived there. Or they'd have to be a Xaosman." Isaac offered, the look on his face leaving no doubt as to what he thought about THAT particular choice.
Isaac looks wistfully into the night "sky". Clearly the rain didn't bother him.
"Perhaps if I do well in this life, I'll come back as an avariel or an eladrin and take to the skies. Or maybe if I do poorly I'll be a crow or a swallow, never to appreciate the poetry of my flight. Regardless, this sparrow is ready to fly."
Amberion the Aerial Adventurer reappears, dressed in a long leather coat with big brass buttons fastened up its front. He wears a leather cap with large ear flaps and a pair of glass goggles. In one hand is a fancy hooded lantern. He looks at the group and waves us inside.
"Come in, come in, it's a good night for bullywugs and aught else."
He leads us all up to the roof of his building where there is a large tent pitched. He waves us all back and mutters a few inaudible words and gestures slightly. (I couldn't quite catch what it was.) He then opens up the tent flap. Inside is a large floor rug with some sort of wood frame underneath it. Several rope loops are tied to the framework and lie on the rug's surface.
"There she is cutters: Rashida, Queen of the Skies." He declares proudly.
Amberion looks over at Bethany
"I take it luv you'll be going under your own power?"
Bethany looks at the Amberion with,... (Well, I couldn't tell if it was a look of disdain, or dismay, or both,,..) and then at 'Rashida' with a look of distaste.
"Yes, you should take it that you are correct..." She responded primly.
Isaac counts out the coins and hands it over.
"Pay me back when you get a chance, cutters; I ain't made of jink."
Amberion pockets the golden coins Isaac gives him and smiles.
"Alright, everyone climb on, grab a rope and tie it 'round yerselves. Rashida's fairly stable, but if I have to dodge summat yeh'll want to have that rope tight! If yeh have eye protection I suggest puttin' it on, as the rain will pelt us something fierce until we get above the clouds. Where do yeh want to go?"
The lanky leather-clad man seats himself in front of the carpet and ties a rope around himself
Isaac takes a place on the carpet and ties himself securely.
I nod in understanding at the aerial ace, and briefly cast a small spell. Using the powers of the cantrip I cause a field capable of repelling wind and rain to come into being around me. It won't keep me WARM, but it should shield me from (most of) the aforementioned pelting. I concentrate, tapping my carpet-companions lightly, and extend the benefits of my spell to Isaac and Drazek as well.
I then take Amberions advice and wraps the rope around my waist. Tightly.
Once everyone is settled, Amberion mutters a word:
Alaayzee!
The large rug begins to hover off the roof and slowly backs out of the tent into the rainy gloom. Waving his arms like a barmy street maestro, Amberion flies the carpet up into the cloud deck. One good thing is that the Cage rarely sees any atmospheric disturbances like lightning, unless the Lady is real mad.
Those dressed lightly start to shiver as the solid rain pours down as our speed increases. Amberion keeps the pace to match Bethany's wing flight. (Despite my original doubts, this carpet-contraption seems very well enchanted. I suspect it could have left Bethany far behind. Don't tell her I said that.)
We climb higher into the cottony clouds. We burst out of the top and see the opposite side of the cage layed out before us like a wide grey band. As we travel higher, the air gets a little thin, but never difficult to breathe.
Several floating buildings are hovering over the clouds. (I admit I stared at them with envy. ONE of these days,...) The group can see a fair amount of winged traffic as well. Amberion stays well away from it all as he guides Rashida down into the clouds wrapping the Market Ward.
After we descend back into the cold rain the bedraggled tents and buildings of the Great Bazaar spread out below us. Amberion steers us along Copperman's Way, finally settling down by the fountain that is the central feature of Copper Court. When we come to a stop, I and the other guys step off of the rickety flying device with an unsteady step as Bethany comes to a graceful if soggy landing of her own.
"Anytime you need a lift you just call Amberion!" The skinny cutter says with a wink. At his command Rashida rises up into the air and streaks off. In a few seconds he is out of sight into the dark rainy sky.
I wave briefly to the aeronaut as he flies off, then turn to the others as I regain my land legs.
"That,... was FUN!" I declare with a happy grin.
Isaac was looking a little green around the gills.
"Fun is... one... word..."
He staggers down an alley and loses his lunch.
"OOooohh, maybe I'm not ready to be an avariel or a sparrow, not even... [hic!]... in my next... life."
Isaac wipes his face with a handkerchief and heads towards the door of the Copper Cauldron.
"No sense sitting out in the rain like a navel-gazing Bleaker."
Bethany laughs as Isaac's last meal escapes his stomach and calls out to him, "Why you would want to be an Avariel is beyond me. You want to be a good flyer, be a Harpy. You would make a good Avian I think."
She smiles, "If you can learn to keep your dinner down that is."
"Oh, ho! Look who's suddenly a comedienne! That's good, that's really good, I'm sure they'd love that down at Caritas, next time you're in the neighborhood."
Isaac smiles ruefully to show there's no heat to his remarks.
"I'll fly like a dove, next time, just you wait."
Bethany's face looks like it is put out for a second, before she realizes Isaac is only ribbing her and she relaxes a little.
"I would like to return there again, just this time I think I will refrain from drinking any strange liquor."
"And Doves are poor flyers compared to the majesty of a Harpy."
I tried, not too hard, to hide a smirk as Isaac loses his lunch.
"I've always been fascinated with flying. This just cinched it for me!" I declare with a grin. “I don't think I want to wait to return as a sparrow, or even a harpy though."
I smile and continued talking with the others, but I was obviously distracted. Yes I was already figuring out how to apply the forces of magic to create flight.
Bethany catches my wise-@$$ remark and turns on me like a cat. "And just what is wrong with being a Harpy may I ask?" She says it so sweetly, I half-expected to get a cavity. But I could tell that my answer better be the one she wants to hear or they'll be Hells to pay!
"Nothing's wrong with being a Harpy my dear lady!" I reply swiftly and smoothly to Bethany's pointed question.
"But after that little trip, I don't think I have the patience to wait for my next trip around the wheel to enjoy flying again. I'm not really a patient man." I admit with a grin.
"Besides, with MY track record, the only flying thing I'm likely to come back as would be a fly,... In a forest of flytraps,..." I add wryly as we duck into the inviting warmth of the taproom.
The sodden flying group bicker and josh each other goodnaturedly as they head for the warmly-glowing windows of the Copper Cauldron.
The door opens and a wave of beef-scented warm air issues out. Their damp clothes start to steam, and the muted roar of late supperers and drinkers hits their ears. Ramona clucks when she sees their state and guides them to a table by the cavernous hearth. A haunch of beef is on the large rotisserie, and Ramona's smallest brother Robyn is doing spitjack duties, ladling drippings from a pan onto the meat while turning it. Several pies and loaves bake in the recessed ovens lining the side of the hearth, adding a lovely pastry smell to the beefy atmosphere.
"You cutters look like you could use some mulled ciderwine." Ramona says, pointing to a large pewter bucket tucked by the hearth's roaring flames. Have I mentioned that Romana is a treasure?
Isaac helps himself to the hot cider and sits himself down before I've managed to shuck my soaked leather coat.
"Much obliged, Ramona. You got anything in the kitchen that isn't full of beef or pork or... well, anything without meat?" Isaac asks.
She smiles.
"We have some lovely green beans, potatoes and Fregash root. I can make yeh up a stir fry if yeh wish."
Isaac indicated his enthusiastic agreement, and Romana whisked off to the kitchen with a promise of “Two Shakes”.
I eagerly tucked into the slices of beef, and pastry, and anything else that happened to land on my plate. At Isaac's request for vegetables I only murmured, "More for me!" Between mouthfuls.
Bethany spreads her wings in front of the roaring fire, being careful not to get too close. She sighs as she starts to warm up and dry off.
"I am definitely going to have to get myself something casual to wear while not out and about. Not to mention a coat for this abominable weather."
She lifts up the front of her slip and waves it in front of the fire. "Isaac, you said something about getting clothes cleaned? They need to take extra care with this slip though, it has special properties I don't want messed with." She inadvertently turns away from the fire and gives the three of us a sight we won't soon forget as she shows us her slip. Without even noticing, she turns back around to keep warming herself.
Isaac sits stunned for a second. He glances from Justin to Drazek and finally to the iron ring on his finger. For a moment he looked, guilty. But he seemed to shrug it off just a swiftly.
"Ah, yeah, Bethany, there's a top-shelf laundress around the corner. Took a load in yesterday and she's pretty fast; even mends things. She also spread the chant that one of her relations is a seamstress if you want to get some more clothes made; probably a good idea before you drop your slip off. You know, to be cleaned. The hardheads are a bit old-fashioned about public nudity and the wonders of the harpy anatomy. Can't understand it, myself, but there you go."
Isaac winks at Robyn.
"How's that meat coming, Robyn?"
Strangely, the haunch has stopped rotating. The small boy stares at Bethany with large, round eyes. A few tables of drinkers are also suddenly more focused on our particular table.
Drazek's face is one of open astonishment that soon becomes open appreciation. If there was any doubt about his opinion of Bethany's charms, it too has gone flying. Out the window.
I had just risen and moved towards the fire to refill my plate and cup. I am therefore in a most enviable position when Lady Bethany turns to show her disheveled slip, and nearly everything else, to Isaac and the rest of us.
I blinked, "Yes, Considering how much we seem to be running around, something a little more,... durable, might be wise." I agreed. Politely.
I stated this calmly and matter-of-factly, despite the fact that my eyebrows had yet to reappear from where they flew up under my bangs. I also momentarily forgot about my cup and plate,... but remembered in time to prevent them from entering the fire in the hearth.
C o c k i n g her head over her shoulder, Bethany informs me, "Oh I have no worries that it will stand up to anything you wish to throw against it. I've enchanted it to protect me. But one needn't wear it all day every day... and I have already been wearing it for a couple of days now. Some casual clothing to wear while relaxing is in order. Not to mention a coat to protect me from this abominable rain. I am not used to it at all. It very rarely rains in my home."
Content that she is dry enough, Bethany resettles her slip and moves to the table to join the rest of us in tearing into the meat set before her like a lion tearing into it's kill. She washes it down with some of the mead, savoring it's taste.
Shaking my head briefly, I refill my plate and cup and return to the table as well, still wearing a far-too-happy smirk. I raised one eyebrow again at seeing how the Lady Bethany enjoys her meat.
Isaac sips his warm cider and digs into his food when it arrives. In between bites, he makes a quick suggestion.
"If these barmies are turning up in factions after bein' penned in the deadbook, I've got the notion that I ought to rattle my bonebox at the Foundry and see if the Godsmen have picked up any too-trig cutters lately. We can see if Toranna and whatever bashers and knights she has with her are playin' all the angles or just a few. "
I wash down a large bite with mulled cider and force my gaze away from Bethany, nodding to Isaac.
"Yes. That's an excellent idea. It now seems obvious that these 'barmies' are turning up alive and well, and seem to be joining factions under new names. One has to wonder, were they all actually 'barmy' when they 'died'? Or are they willing participants in this little,... whatever it is?"
"And what is the ultimate goal? There has to be an easier way to infiltrate an organization than pretending to be killed. Because somewhere, you may be recognized by someone who knew you before you changed names. Like our red-headed friend. No, there has to be more to this than simple infiltration of spies."
I mused for a moment, then shake my head in exasperation and tear back into my own food.
Drazek is tucking into the food along with the rest of us. "Question is whether its a faction messin' with others by infiltratin', or a few factions recruitin' in some weird way." He says through a half-chewed mouthful. (Bethany appeared properly appalled at his table manners.)
Issac finished his own mouthful and leans forward, gesturing with his fork like a bizarre bandleader.
"The way I see it is this: the Hive's full of barmies and spivs, more than the Bleakers can handle or keep track of. A particularly cold-blooded berk looks at 'em and sees an opportunity: a spell here and there, some "convincing" and you've got an army of spies that may or may not even know they're spies. A blood that can fake a berk's death could likely figure a way to get at what's in their brainboxes, either with divination or some other method."
I nodded slowly in agreement. A brief feeling of dread causing me to chew much slower. Necromancy was not my specialty, but I knew more than enough Divination, Charm and Enchantment magics to know that Issac was dead right. Any caster that could fake a death with a spell like we had seen, would easily be powerful enough to charm and convince a person to spy for them. Or compel them to do so,...
Not privy to my inner monologue, Issac was still talking,
"But for the plan to work, our cold-blooded berk has to be in a position to get those "corpses" without anyone lookin' over their shoulder. Which points us to the Dusties and Toranna. She logs in all the bodies brought in by the Collectors, who are none the wiser. Don't even have to get her hands dirty in the streets if another berk casts the spell. The angle only works when used on barmies and other sods in the Hive without anyone to claim 'em after they're penned in the deadbook."
"Now, I have my doubts that this is something involving the Dustmen entire: my faction and theirs don't get along, but they're usually fine poking the Godsmen through the Hall of Speakers and other methods keeping with their jurisdiction. Most of the time, though, they just don't care for something like this. If every cutter in Sigil is coming through your door to be penned in the deadbook sooner or later, why hurry it along? Their philosophy doesn't keep with that sort of activity. These aren't maniac necromancers from the Prime, they're the oldest faction in Sigil. They're secure in their position 'cause there ain't any other berks looking for the job. And besides, spies aren't unusual. Hells, the Anarchists are practically all spies. So why go to all the trouble.... unless the faction isn't sanctioning it."
"So: I think the barmies started that way and that Toranna is working without her faction's knowledge or permission. Why or how is the dark of it, as is what happened to Eliath to drive him into the Hive to begin with. We've got Brimstone Books and Ragpicker Square to follow-up on, if I can get a word with my factotum about new namers we can see if it's just the Fated or more factions they're bobbing. It's also a good idea to hit up our red-haired man on his own; we can pick his brainbox on what's going on and if we can convince him to go to the Mortuary as proof of life, we may be able to confront Toranna."
Issac scratches his head and frowns.
"How that fulfills our contract... that's a bit of a dark, though."
As the group at the Silver Rose sups, Renkar appears at the common room, Mercutio draped over his shoulders. He sees us, strides over and sits down to join us.
"So folks, how went the investigations?"
I couldn't help it. I looked at the others.
“Well, he DID ask for it.”
END OF CHAPTER 8 - TOP OF PAGE 86
Well done! I can’t wait to see your write up of the whole Quake Lavender/Mortuary/Fire Plane bit
Heh, yeah, me too! ;P
Looking forward to revisiting that entire bit. A lot. I will not lie. :)
At long last!
The long-awaited return!
And an even longer introduction!
Where some things get figured out, and found out, and talked out,...
Justin's Story- Chapter 9
Chronicles of the Silver Rose Company, Pages 86-88
The Boss catches up, A Harpy and a Warlock hook up, and Two Blokes speak up
It's funny. In all of those bard's tales, you know, the ones where the adventurers all meet up in a bar, and within a mug and a half decide to go on a grand adventure? Those tales never have any history, or background of the heroes involved. They just go straight to the part where they storm the castle, slay the dragon, and rescue the princess. Don't get me wrong, I like those parts too. But I always wondered about the people themselves. Did they always want to be adventurers? Or heroes? Were they really all selfless do-gooders of impeccable virtue? (Even the 'light-fingered' ones?) Or were they normal folk? People full of courage, and fear, and love, and hate, and loathing, and self-doubt and,... you get my point.
Well, sometimes my curiosity is rewarded, and I get the answers to my questions. Some of them anyway.
So, about half of the Silver Rose crew, Isaac, Bethany, Drazek and myself, had returned to the Silver Rose offices from our days misadventures. We were at the Copper Cauldron next door enjoying Romana's excellent food, drying off, and glad to be in out of the dingy rain while discussing the days events, and idly wondering what was taking the rest of the group (Karrin, Nari, and Merle) so long to return.
To be fair, we HAD hopped a magic-carpet like contraption for the trip back. So they probably weren't really taking any longer than we would have. But it seemed like it.
As our group supped, our employer Renkar appeared at the common room, Mercutio the fairy dragon draped over his shoulders like a colorful cape. He strode over and sat down to join us.
"So folks, how went the investigations?" Renkar drawled in an accent made impossible to identify by his Planar travels. It just made his upper crust vibe that much more exotic.
Man, I do admire a sophisticated accent. I may have to try and cultivate one sometime.
Not anytime Soon mind you,... but sometime.
I looked at Isaac, smirked, and spread my hands.
“Well. He asked for it.”
Isaac flashed me a smile and resettled in his chair. I smiled back and made myself comfortable while Isaac started catching Renkar up on our day.
"Pretty well, boss. We got some leads on Eliath's kip from Talesar at the Society. From there we split up: the four of us to the Clerk's Ward via the Hive to look up his kip while Karrin, Merle and Naridre went to the soup kitchens. We got jumped by the Bottle and Jug by a couple o' spivs and a spellcaster. Peak hour robbery/murder, no demands for jink or nothing and the spellcaster didn't want us seein' his or her face. I'm thinkin' there's a berk out there what doesn't want Eliath found."
"Anyhow, we dealt with 'em like the hardy mercenary bloods that befit your prestigious organization, though the spellcaster got away after his monkey tore into me and got a face full of Justin's specialty. Ew. That sounds dirty, but I like it. We were a bit... over-enthusiastic in taking down the spivs, so there weren't any leads to be had out of it. We passed a tavern in the Clerk's, though and we saw a cutter what looked just like the one Karrin and the rest of these bloods saw penned in the deadbook when they met the Chaosmen the other night. I tried to get some chant out of him, but he seems to think he's a Clueless and just joined the Fated. He got nervous to my barmy act, though, so there may be more to it. We know where he's stayin'. So our suspicions may be right: Eliath could be among the quick."
"So, his landlady wouldn't let us into his kip unless a hardhead was with us, so we had to get Measure Mirrebeau involved. His kip weren't turned out, so the abduction angle didn't pan out. His journal mentioned a few books and planar sages he was researching and where he was headed for 'em. Brimstone's books and Ragpicker's Square. It was a little late for another jaunt through the Hive and we figured it best to trade the chant with our comrades given this new development so we came back after that."
Bethany still looks bewildered trying to follow Isaac's description in Cager Chant. She obviously gets the gist of what he's saying, but the finer details shoot the breeze straight over her head and out the door.
"Errr... yeah, what Isaac said," she adds, wanting to seem as if she's contributing.
I smirked at Lady Bethany's obvious ignorance at Isaac's command of the local lingo, (Although, truth be told, I'd only heard maybe 3/4 of those terms before.) But I made it a toothy, good-natured grin, not my usual superior smirk. (Yes. I practice those in the mirror. Sigil is a, complicated city.) With a full stomach and spiced ale warming my toes, I was just too blasted happy to be my usual sarcastic self. So it was with unusual self-control that I held my tongue and made no snide comments. Instead choosing to finish my last swig of mulled ale.
Renkar's eyebrows furrow as he ponders.
"Well, it seems the job has become a little more complicated than a simple hide and seek. If someone's trying to pen you in the dead book that brings the threat up a bit."
Renkar pondered some more.
"I think you did the right thing, and we'll hope that the others have found some more information. If we are messing up someone's plans they might feel the need to silence us before the slaad's out of the sack. Let's wait for the others and get a fresh start once we gather all the clues together."
"Sounds good to me boss." I replied happily to Renkar's suggestion that we wait and compare notes with the others.
"I've never met a Slaad before, But it SOUNDS like something that should kept in a sack!" I murmured softly aside to Issac. The ranger nodded agreeably. Maybe he knew something I didn't?
Renkar waved Ramona over.
"A pot of coffee, one of tea, Some sliced beef and mustard, and an apple pie for my friend Mercutio if you please Ramona."
Mercutio launches of Renkar's shoulders and hovers excitedly, flapping his orange-and-black wings
"Apple pie Apple PIE!"
Smiling at the tiny dragons' antics, I propped my feet up on an empty chair, and began filling my pipe pulled from the depths of one of my pockets.
"Isaac, and Mr. Renkar, I'm not as familiar with the Hive as I maybe should be for this. Is being ambushed in broad 'peak' on a major street a common occurrence there? Obviously the gang COULD have just been looking for an easy purse, although if WE looked easy, I need to cultivate a new image!" I smirked as I lit my pipe with a flicker of flame from one finger. I puffed a couple of times, feeling positively blissful, and continued.
"Obviously, the gang was put up onto us by the caster. But why?!? SO far all we have are a few tantalizing tidbits, and several half-baked theories! To go to all the trouble to remove people permanently, you'd think that we had found, or were at least CLOSE to finding the answers! The caster pulled out an hell-spawn Ape, something I'm not even sure I could summon yet. But he didn't hang around to try to fry us with another spell, he just ran away invisible." I stopped to take another puff, then looked at Isaac and Renkar incredulously.
"You don't think that whole setup was just to give us a Warning, do you? Bit over-the-top, don't you think?" I asked, puffing my pipe as I contemplated. "I don't suppose he was wearing any easily-identifiable item or symbol you may have noticed before he vanished? It would be nice if he would give us something to go on for all that trouble."
I grimaced, feeling sheepish, and spread my hands in apology to all at the table.
"Look, I,... Uh, just want to say that I'm not used to group strategies. I've had my share of fights since I landed here, but usually it's been me against one to half a dozen thugs. My usual strategy is to blast first, and ask questions later. To be honest, it didn't even occur to me to try to capture one of the gang for questioning. And I was so intent on taking them out quickly, I burnt through most of my more powerful spells before I even realized that we had been flanked by the caster and his organ-grinder ape." I frowned, angry at myself for such an amateur blunder. Future Arch-Mages should be, smarter than that.
I shrugged, and grinned self-deprecatingly. "All's well that ends well. But I'll plan better for group dynamics in the future." I added sincerely. Then continued to puff on my pipe.
Isaac, meanwhile, rolled himself a cigarette, letting me talk and mostly answer my own questions. He took a puff and blew the smoke languidly through his nostrils.
"A berk can get bobbed or peeled in the Hive Peak or Antipeak. Not a Hardhead, a Guvner or the Red Death in sight. Mostly it happens in the Antipeak hours and not in front of a crowd. Our spellslinger was peery with their face and their loyalties; just a black robe and a cowl so no notions there. Let my handle slip to them Dustmen at Caritas the other night. Bone-boxes tend to rattle, could have found its way up to Toranna's ears, I'll wager."
"I reckon we're on to a game o' slaad an' modron. The spivs and the ape were to test our limits, see if we were legit. I'd even bet another cross-trader had his eyes parked on the whole thing, 'sides the spellslinger. We'll see 'em again, like as not in greater force."
Drazek, who had been sitting, glowering from within his own shadow this entire time, snorted. "Bring 'em on."
Bethany listened as I rambled, nodding along as if she agreed with my thoughts as she sips the mead.
Once Isaac starts to talk again however she appears totally lost, her head swiveling between him and the mead in her hand. It appeared as if she was wondering how strong it was and if it had at all affected her faculties.
Renkar nods.
"It is strange that you were attacked by a group in the Peaklight hours, especially at the Gatehouse Night Market. Most knights of the post don't go in for group bashing, and casters hanging about for support isn't exactly a common thing. My feeling is is that we've stumbled upon something that someone wants kept dark. "
Renkar begins slicing up some beef slices and popping them into his mouth.
"My instinct is to keep going on the investigation until we find out the real dark of things. It might be beyond our original charter, but if there is some sort of independent entity spying on the factions, that piece of dark could be worth plenty to the right buyer."
Bethany turns and smiles at Renkar as he finishes his address. "Now that is definitely something I understand sir. Information is worth it's weight and I agree with your assertion that we continue upon our chosen path."
I continued to puff my pipe, merely nodding at Isaac's, Renkar's and Bethany's words as I stared intensely at a spot in the air in front of me. I muttered aloud to myself.
"But what exactly have we found? We know what they're doing, we even have a vague notion of how, but who, and why? We need at least one of those answers to solve this puzzle. What have we found that we don't even realize? I'm missing something,..." I muttered off, puffing on my pipe as if it might hold the answer. After a couple of minutes I looked back up at Isaac.
“Your would-be girlfriend. The one with pretty purple skull & sunburst? She's probably not the leader. BUT,... what if she's not only the receiver of not-quite-dead bodies, but the provider?"
I sat up, suddenly excited.
"Think about it, she's in the perfect position to receive 'dead' barmies, and make sure that they don't accidentally end up cremated for real. But how does she know which ones are for her to process, and which ones are normal business? The simplest way is if SHE'S the one putting them on ice to begin with. Then she simply goes to work, and waits for them to be delivered by the usual pickup crews, all nice and neat and legal. No obvious ties to her at all."
I looked at all the others with a big grin on my face. I peered at Isaac with a raised eyebrow.
"How good are you at tailing?,..."
Drazek snorted again. (I THINK it was a laugh this time?) "Damn good logic Justin. Reckon' we follow her to the next poor sucker? And what? Take'r out before it happens or just watch?"
Before I could answer, Isaac spoke up.
"Girlfriend? C'mon, cutter, I'm spoken for. At least, as far as I know."
Isaac holds up his right hand, the ring finger of which bears a plain iron ring.
"And besides, she's more Drazek's type. What with the constant scowling and all. As far as tailing goes, cutter, you're asking the blood that spent his last few incarnations as a member of the animal kingdom. I can tail like I was born with one."
Renkar laughed.
"Then I suggest after we talk with the others we get some rest, and on the morrow you all attempt to trail this Toranna blood."
I winked at Isaac and nodded an exaggerated bow to Drazek as I accepted the complement.
"Good." I said to Isaac with a grin as I tapped the ashes from out of my pipe and started to refill it.
"To the best of our knowledge, the barmies are supposedly being killed at night. And I believe that Toranna works the day,... er, 'peak' shift? So that gives us tomorrow to try the bookstores and see if we can find a copy of this mysterious book that Eli was looking for, and then our animal friend can tail Ms. Tall, Dark and Spooky after she leaves work, and we'll see if she's putting the bodies down as well as processing them."
I light my newly-packed pipe with another flicker of flame, and puff happily. I couldn't help if it showed, I'll admit, I was clearly pleased with myself.
"Even if she's not tagging them, we'll be in the area, and hopefully we can catch whoever it is BEFORE he/she/it can 'kill' again."
Renkar nods once more.
"If she's part of a wider group, as your encounter in the Night Market suggests, she will possibly have to meet with someone to discuss plans. I would imagine that your investigations has stirred up the proverbial hellwasp's nest. I'd expect her to get spooked if she is actually a spy within the Dustmen faction. If she is caught out, she'll be grey-faced and tottering down the street with a number tattooed on her forehead within the week."
Bethany looks at Renkar with a perplexed look on her face. "Why would she paint her face grey and tattoo a number there? Is that some form of punishment?"
Renkar smiles grimly.
"No, my dear Lady Bethany, something else quite a bit more sinister. The Dustmen have a proclivity to animate corpses for labor, and although by Sigilian law they are limited only to bodies that sold the rights to them, troublemakers often end up zombified as well. I doubt anyone would complain since this Toranna is nominally a Dustman Factotum. They would consider it an internal matter."
Renkar takes a quick sip from his mug.
"The forehead numbers are just a way for the Dustmen to identify individual zombies and skeletons, and also to show that the undead are licensed animated bodies, not the work of rogue necromancers."
Bethany wrinkles up her nose. "Undead... The Reptilians of House Charthaxix use them extensively, but they are not usually welcome in polite Harpy Society."
"I have also heard rumors that the Dusk Avariel worship some sort of Undead God, but other than Avarian Ambrosia I tend to not have much to do with any Avariel." She sniffed.
I sniffed as well, my disdain showing almost as clearly as Lady Bethany's.
"Yes. I dislike the practice of necromancy myself,... for a number of reasons,... But mainly I have a problem with a work force that tends to try and nibble on the customers if left idle too long!" I said wryly as I finished a final wisp of a puff from my pipe.
Bethany finished the last of her Mead and looked around at the rest of us. "So should we wait for the others to return, or head off to get some rest and all meet up in the morning to discuss our finds?"
I pouted as I gazed at the pipe, as if it had burnt up the last of my leaf on purpose. (I could have SWORN I just refilled it!) With a resigned sigh I decided against another refill and knocked the ashes out by tapping the bowl against the side of the table. I tucked the pipe into one of my many coat pockets, and stifled a yawn as I reached for the remains of my mulled cider.
"Rest sounds good to me. Give me a chance to tweak my spell selection a little bit. IF we're going to be stirring up hellwasp nests, I want to make sure I've got a BIG bug swatter!" I smirked.
I drained the last of my drink, then turned to Drazek. "Speaking of swatters, that's a pretty nice trick you pulled earlier. I've never seen a weapon composed of energy before. Gives me ideas for a spell,... A flaming Sword,... no. A FlameSabre?,..." I waggled my eyebrows with a mischievous grin.
Isaac frowns into his tankard at the subject of the Dead and the undead, but says little.
"You cutters can head up to rest if you like. I'm gonna find out what's keepin' them out to the turn o' the darkman. I'd reckon they'll have somethin' for us... or they've hit the blinds. Which I doubt, so it's likely they got some chant for us."
Bethany stands up and stretches, working the kinks from her body.
"Well I am heading off to bed. I am going to have a warm bath before I do so though to wash the stink of this forsaken city away. If any of you would like to offer me a massage after it then feel free to head up in about half an hour. That battle earlier has left me stiff and sore." She smiles predatorially at the three seated men, before going over and asking for some hot water to be brought up to her room for a bath. She then looks towards the door, contemplating flying up to her loft, but instead sighs an takes the stairs, clearly not wanting to venture back out into the rain after her roasting in front of the fire.
Drazek watches the harpy stretch appreciatively, and grins warmly at Bethany's words, glancing at the rest of us. Watching her exit he looks over to Isaac after draining his tankard.
"Watch yer back Isaac, I'l be a little busy rubbin' someone else's tonight. Think I'll be takin' a quick bath m'self and join the Lady upstairs. Wouldn't do to be all dirty now would it?" He said with all the smooth charm of a snake oil salesman.
Isaac waved him on. "Oh, I'll get along fine, cutter. You've got a dangerous mission ahead of you. Best not to keep Her Ladyship waitin', eh?"
Drazek left. And he didn't glance back.
Isaac props his feet up on Drazek's now-vacant chair, takes a last puff on his cigarette and tosses it into the fire and parks his eye on the front door.
I raised an eyebrow at Lady Bethany's statement, which was about as transparent as her magical lingerie. I raised the other eyebrow when Drazek jumped in and beat everyone to the punch. I did my best to look jealous. I grinned a conspiratorial smirk and saluted Drazek with my empty mug.
"To the bold, the spoils!" I declared, and then realized my mug was empty as Drazek made his way up the stairs.
"And the claw marks." I mumbled to Isaac and Renkar after the shadowy man departed. I looked at the front door wistfully. With a resigned sigh I shook my head and got up to refill my mug.
"Nope." I said as I returned to the table. "Not a fit night for man, beast, or wizard!" I declared, and settled back into my chair, my long legs lifting to rest on the tabletop, signaling my intent to wait with Isaac.
Renkar finished his tea, and excused himself, offering a final congratulations on a good days work. He headed out the door, presumably returning to the Silver Rose offices.
After a companionable silent few minutes of sitting, sipping, and listening to the rain, I cleared my throat.
"So, Bethany. Must admit she's not exactly what I expected in a harpy. 'Course, I haven't exactly had the travel experiences you have. Haven't met a lot of predatory, flying-humanoids to compare her too."
I eyed Isaac with a sideways glance, then took my feet off of the table long enough to refill both our mugs again. Then leaned back in my chair once more.
"Alright, it's 'get to know each other time'. Because if I just sit here, I'm gonna doze, and I'd rather keep my mind active and working. You first. I know that you've been around the 'the wheel', and around 'The Wheel'. And you've been a field rodent. What else? What do you like to do for fun? What is your favorite plane to visit? Do you have anyone?,..." I pointed at the large iron ring that Isaac displayed earlier, and motioned for the ranger to jump in anytime.
Isaac nods, either weariness or sadness creeping into his normally avuncular demeanor.
"Aye, Bethany's somethin' else. What are harpies like on your Prime plane? I honestly wouldn't know what to expect for the most part, though I've lanned the chant here and there. Savage man-eaters, right? I reckon Bethany is more of a 'refined' man-eater..."
I snorted in surprised amusement and muttered “REFINED man-eater,... that's good.”
"You ever heard the dark of gettin' around the Planes, Justin old son? Besides portals. We got a sayin': Two rivers, a mountain and a really big tree. There's Oceanus which runs through the Upper Planes, there's the Styx which runs through the Lower Planes, Mount Celestia in Arborea: it's full of portals and caves to different planes. And then there's Yggdrasil, the World Ash. A basher walks up the tree, finds the right branch and dives off into another Plane. Quick as ye blink. It's where I grew up, in a little town nestled in the branches. The town's not a bad place, though I haven't been there for years since my folks moved on. That's a fine place, Yggdrasil. If you still believe the Powers are actually Gods, wait till you park your eyes on the World Ash. There are things older and greater than the Powers, Justin, and that's one of 'em."
Issac rubs the back of his head, thinking.
"As for past incarnations... I might have been a swallow, though you wouldn't guess the way we flew tonight. Might have been a hound, too. It's hard to tell if I'm dreaming or remembering when it comes to me. What do I do for fun... hit the taverns with Springheel and Hurgik when the bubbers aren't working. Taverns are the major industry in Sigil, besides the cross-trade. I'm no academic or whatever they like bein' called, but I like to read up on things here and there. Mostly whatever the latest darks are on different animals and species or the occasional lecture at the Civic Festhall. I haven't been there too much, lately, though..."
Issac looks at his ring. There is pain in his eyes.
"... sometimes it hurts, to be honest. Being there without Allie around. Allessa's her full name, she's a Sensate and pretty deft with a blade. I had never met someone like her before coming to Sigil. She's just... so alive, just for the sake of being alive. Another Cager might say that all Sensates are like that... oh, the 'Society of Sensation' is another of our factions. They run the Festhall. But anyways, I was... or I am.... with her for longer than I was with anyone else. We'd both be running around the Wheel, me on a job and her chasing some new experience but we'd spend almost all our time in Sigil together."
Isaac clears his throat and throws on a wry smirk.
"This is where we need a violin, cutter. Here's a tragedy fit to make the Lady herself weep. My last job with the Razor Wind hit the blinds. We're on Acheron, which is a terrible place to be. Whole plane is nothin' but a bunch of huge iron cubes crashing into each other with nothin' but ruins and battlefields on each face and caves of goblins and bladelings shivving each other. We're after some stupid bauble a rich berk wants and the biggest mess o' hobgoblins falls on us. Those of us not dead are scragged, brought into the warrens to work. I think I only survived 'cause the Godsmen taught me to forge and I had this ring to remind me of who was waitin' for me (you know I made this myself? Hers, too). Otherwise, they would have worked me to death: I saw it happen, they really would."
"Eight months Acheron time slaving in that hot, musty hole. Getting kicked and beaten and whipped. Finally, there's an attack by another tribe or some bladelings or devils. I slip out and sabotage one of their sodding war machines and grab whoever I can to get back to Sigil. It wasn't just me, of course, I'm not takin' the credit but I did my part. Got back, told the high-ups in the Razor Wind exactly how I felt about bein' hipped on Acheron before I quit. And Allie's gone. None of her mates can tell me where she went to, though the ones what didn't like me had no bones about spillin' there was another man. Don't know if I think that's the dark of it or not...."
"I mean, we weren't married exactly. Neither of us go in for ceremonies. Hells, we're not even in the same faction. And I was gone a long time. So, I can't really say I'd blame her if she moved on. Suppose I'm just stuck on her. Anyhow, after that I stuck closer to home. My kip was turned out, so I headed up to the Foundry and got to work until I joined up with the Rose."
"And there's Isaac, for you. How about yourself, Justin? How'd you end up here? Always been about plying your spellbook for the mercenary life? And how do you like the Cage? Met anybody outside the Company you've taken a shine to?" He prodded me with only slightly forced joviality.
After my initial comment I remained silent, refilled and puffed on my pipe again, and let the Ranger tell his tale. I stared at the fire as he spoke, mostly, but there were times when I could not help but look intently at Isaac during his story, committing certain details to memory.
When Isaac winds down I remain silent for a few more minutes, occasionally puffing on my (once-again) now-dead pipe. I finally looked over at Isaac, who is watching me expectantly. With a "Hmmm" of thoughtful interest I calmly knock out the ashes of my pipe.
"First off Isaac, I have to apologize. For underestimating you. I think I just learned more about the inner workings of Planar Cosmology in five minutes than exists in the Acadeaum's entire library back home. Although I now think that maybe Caldric knew, he was a teacher that always seemed to know more than he ever told." I told Issac with a bemused smile.
"Sensates? I've actually heard of them, I think. Aren't those the ones that are dedicated to experiencing everything they possibly can before they die? I mean,... EVERYthing?" I asked, then sighed.
"Look, I'm sure you've had enough of false hopes or meaningless words, but knowing she's a Sensate,... Is it possible she's simply out,...” I waved my hand in a vague circular motion, ... “experiencing? Waiting for you to return?" I rubbed my face and stopped, gazing at Isaac's ring. "I wonder,..."
I met Isaac's eyes. "I don't suppose that the ring you made for her is an exact duplicate of that one?" I asked, pointing at the iron band. "There's a spell that can track objects that you've seen. It's a basic spell, pretty limited range. BUT, a higher level version should have no problem with distance, or even crossing Planes. It'd be way beyond my current abilities though, I'll have to research it,..." I mused, then, noticing that Issac clearly didn't want to talk anymore about it for the moment, hastily cleared my throat and continued.
"As far as MY story goes, I'm afraid it's pretty boring compared to yours. No World-Spanning Trees or Plane-Hopping Rivers for me. I never went looking for adventure, It just sort of found me. I had,... other plans."
I found myself staring off into the fire, talking as if I were reading from a book about someone else,...
"My family was well-to-do. Nobody terribly important, but they had contacts, and money. Enough to ensure my admission to the most prestigious school of Magyk on the continent. At school I found my one teacher who I thought would be my mentor and ticket to The Life. Althor. He was better connected than my family, and took me and a few other students under his wing. He not only taught us magic, he showed us how to play ball with the big boys and make them look like amateurs. My future was set, I was either going to be the next bigwig in politics, or the next archmagus the school produced,... or both. I hadn't decided yet. I had no reason too. Everything was going,... just,... perfect. "
"Yeah. TOO perfect." I frowned at the fireplace. "The 'chosen few' we called ourselves. We were the group that EVERYone wanted to join, or at least be friends with. We even marked ourselves with magical tattoos, to prove that all the others were just wannabes. I didn't find out until later that it had been Althor's idea. All a part of the plan." I grumbled, rubbing at a spot on my shoulder under my coat. When I realized I was doing it, I cleared my throat and slapped my knees.
"Well, to make a long story short, too late, Althor had plans alright, but they only included using us to further them. While he was 'helping' us, he was really charming and Geasing us to make sure he had the perfect patsies. We all helped him, willingly walking straight to our deaths. I'm not even sure what the ceremony was supposed to do. All I know is that it involved a large dark vortex and necromantic energies. I watched and chanted as he killed my friends one by one, ripping out their lives through the tattoos that he had tricked us into getting. One tattoo for every school of magic. There were only three of us left when Caldric burst in. He burst our bonds and cleared our minds with a casual wave of his hands. Effortlessly casting spells that I hadn't even conceived of yet, much less knew he could cast."
"I, don't really remember what happened next. I think Caldric could normally have taken Althor, but he spent precious time trying to save our foolish arses. Between that, and the power that Althor had already siphoned,... I remember seeing Caldric stumble, and maybe casting a spell myself, but after that,... "
I shrugged and gave a wan smile. "I woke up here. And I've been trying to find my way back ever since. But no one I've talked to seems to know where MY 'prime' is. So I set up shop trying to keep me in coppers, er, 'greens', and hoping that getting to travel off-wheel would help me find a clue back. But so far, nothing."
I lean back in his chair once more with a smirk. "So, no one special for me! I was far too preoccupied before to do more than, 'Ahem, 'date', and I've avoided getting involved here, because I have to get back. I have to find out what happened to Caldric,... and Althor.' I almost bite off the final name. A wistful grin creeps back across my face. A shadow of the same grin I was wearing early that same morning, not so very long ago.
"Although, I do seem to be making, friends, in spite of myself." I add with a waggle of eyebrows.
Isaac nods as I talk, (or 'ramble', semantics), saying little but clearly paying close attention.
"Reckon that's quite a yarn. This Althor must be a top-shelf coney-catcher, I think we may not give you Primes enough credit. Heh. He'd fit right in with some o' the conniving bloods in the Cage; some of the Factols come to mind. I think he'd find his match with Shemeska, though. Or the Golden Lords.”
I snorted in either amusement or agreement. I don't recall (exactly) which.
"Oh yes, Althor'd fit RIGHT in with some of the snake-oil salesmen I've seen here. I almost hope he DID end up here. I'd love to see him get his comeuppence from a Blood he thought was a Leatherhead. Although I'd rather do it myself." I finished with a growl, not even realizing that I was actually speaking passable Cant.
Issac nodded, “Still, that Caldric blood's a rare thing, even in this burg. He must have seen somethin' in you that you didn't. Not that you've got a problem with confidence, old son."
I look at Isaac with a self-depreciating grin. "Oh. Sure. Self-Confidence my specialty. My ability to totally ignore any thought of failure is exceeded only by my ability to jump in with both feet before looking!" I smirk light-heartedly. But there is a bitter edge to my tone.
Issac shakes his head.
"Hope you don't mind me sayin', but you Primes are a different set. Every basher I've met from the Prime Material says the same thing: 'I don't want to be here, get me home'. What do you miss about the Prime, besides the fact that it's familiar and you want to know the dark of what happened to you there? I've never gotten out there, so I don't know what the appeal is. Seems to me you've got the chance to really push your potential and park your eyes and ears on some truly incredible things. How many burgs on the Prime are on the inside of a ring floating over a spire? Where a deva and a baatezu pass each other on the street with nary a word exchanged? Hells, I hated Acheron, but it was amazing before the whole business of butchering and slavery got in there. An entire plane of iron cubes just butting into each other, and that's just one! I despised it, but it hasn't soured me on seein' the rest o' the Wheel if I can. So when I meet a Prime basher like yourself I can't help but wonder why you would want out so fast. If you were this Althor's gully (no offense) for the high life, why wouldn't you want to find it out here? Magic, politics, danger, adventure: it's all here on a larger scale if you want it."
I felt my eyes narrow and opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Instead I took another drink, my brow furrowed in thought. (Issac liked to say he could 'HEAR the gears turnin' in my head') Finally I slowly nodded, and raised an eyebrow.
"You've,... got a point." I admitted with obvious reluctance. "I've known a few magus who managed to hop a plane or two, and they were very excited about it. Chattered on like children if you gave them half a chance to talk about it. I suppose I might feel differently if I had TRIED to come here. If I had been researching a spell or looking for a portal, but I was thrown here by accident. While I DO realize the potential I have in front of me for a variety of research possibilities alone, I didn't want to come here. Maybe it's a comfort thing. Maybe despite my overabundance of self-confidence, all I really want to be is a big fish in a small pond. I don't know."
I stared into the fire again. "I DO know that I HAVE to get back. I need to see if Caldric is alright, and if any of the others survived. And I NEED to make sure that Althor is put into a very deep, very dark, hole. Preferably one where he can suffer for a few thousand years before he actually dies." I snarled with unusual venom. A particularly loud crackle from the fire made me blink, and I looked back to Isaac sheepishly.
"After that, Who knows? You've got a point. Why waste MY potential on a single country in a backwater Prime when I could be playing with the big-timers from ALL the Planes?" I smiled with an exaggerated waggle of my eyebrows and saluted Isaac with my mug. But my face as I leaned back in my seat was,... thoughtful. I had to admit, Issac had given me a lot to think about.
Then, a soggy child and a sopping wet cat walked in the door,...
To Be Continued,...