Baraxx grunts, "Still sounds fun. I guess when you've stood in a shield wall facing down a Tanar'ri charge it doesn't seem so hard. Just keep killing until they run out of bodies or you die. Simple."
Looking down at his whiskey for a few moments, "Maybe you could draw him out somehow? Just a few warriors and this Shrow-whats-his-name?"
"At least it doesn't sound boring."
Rinika ponders for a moment and suddenly her eyes go wide. "Baraxx, you might be on to something there. Maybe something that can help us both out. I gotta do some research."
"Research? Can I come?"
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Jek begins looking around anxiously for something anything else to do than tag along for research.
"Rations... uh... I will go buy more rations. We need rations, and that is what I will do."
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"It's mostly gonna be talking to my fellow Doomies and sneaking around where they probably don't want me. Those don't seem like your kind of thing, Nik."
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Jek goes shopping, Rinika goes snooping.
Nik visits with Lu?
What goals do the Xaositects and Baraxx have? If any you don't need to have goals.
Lunk wouldn’t mind heading into the Hive Ward to see what the Xaositects are up to. (Not that they have what most people would consider goals.)
Nik shrugs and goes with his shamblers and the crate to see Lu....
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One week later...
The Armory
The sad looking and excruciatingly thin looking Doomguard who first administered Rinika's tests furtively approaches the catfolk, "Ely wants a word," he says grimly. Rinika knows who Ely Cromlich is, a cambion who is the primary forge master for the Doomguard. Some whisper that he's Factol Pentar's lover but no one dares say that within a mile radius of the Armory.
You're led to a private chamber where the cambion sneers at you with a malicious grin. He asks accusingly, "You've been poking at dangerous dark. What's the chant on the missing the Ship of Chaos? Do you know who bobbed us?"
Tivuum's Antiquities
While Lu finds the Migrus Locker interesting she doesn't have any particularly illuminating to say about it.
The Market Ward
Jek and Baraxx find a stall with a bright banner, [i]Mambo and Sab's place[/b] written in Bariaur. The kitchen goblin, apparently Mambo, tries to force feed the pair mystery meat stew before selling them any rations.
The Hive Ward, the Hive
Gilly gallops up to Lunk and Savi, eyes bright and wild, "Guys, yugs, and sugy. Come! Fast! Run!" Without warning he seizes Lunk and drags him along forcibly. Lunk is unceremoniously tossed into an ally where a number of other bashers mill about, wigwagging. At the end of the ally someone with a barrel of tarts stands next to a pony. She tosses the tart into a hole in a warehouse wall and a gate flares to life. The pony steps through and the portal closes again. Gilly makes a wild motion for you to do something, but doesn't explain what.
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Jek eyes light up.
Baraxx is happy to sample the mystery meat stew, slopping it down happily. "Good! Needs a little more spice though."
Lunk tosses a tart into the hole…
…and Savi follows it, shouting, “I haven’t actually thought this throoooooough!”
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She hears the pony cry out in pain and the crunch of snow beneath its feet.
The kick on Baraxx's stew has a long tail and catches up to him.
She needs shelter—badly!
Nik bids Lu a fond farewell and goes to meet up with the others...
Jek looks at the sign, smiles, and has some stew.
Baraxx belches in pleasure as the kick, well, kicks in.
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To Jek's surprise and disappointment, the not-meat stew tastes just like meat. Usually fake meat had some plant overtones to look forward to, but no... they had nailed it. How did they do it? Why did they do it? In an effort to be polite, he resolves to finish the rather large bowl... slowly... very slowly...
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One week later...
The Armory
The sad looking and excruciatingly thin looking Doomguard who first administered Rinika's tests furtively approaches the catfolk, "Ely wants a word," he says grimly. Rinika knows who Ely Cromlich is, a cambion who is the primary forge master for the Doomguard. Some whisper that he's Factol Pentar's lover but no one dares say that within a mile radius of the Armory.
You're led to a private chamber where the cambion sneers at you with a malicious grin. He asks accusingly, "You've been poking at dangerous dark. What's the chant on the missing the Ship of Chaos? Do you know who bobbed us?"
One week later...
The Armory
The sad looking and excruciatingly thin looking Doomguard who first administered Rinika's tests furtively approaches the catfolk, "Ely wants a word," he says grimly. Rinika knows who Ely Cromlich is, a cambion who is the primary forge master for the Doomguard. Some whisper that he's Factol Pentar's lover but no one dares say that within a mile radius of the Armory.
You're led to a private chamber where the cambion sneers at you with a malicious grin. He asks accusingly, "You've been poking at dangerous dark. What's the chant on the missing the Ship of Chaos? Do you know who bobbed us?"
Some time later at the Poor Sod Tavern
Jek stands at his usual booth waiting for a surprise that Ariel and Vorn has promised him. Across from him is his friend and resident knight-of-the-post Rinika. A bipedal woman enters and approaches them. She has dull eyes, bland hair, and a slightly flabby form. These plain features sit in stark contrast to the singular crimson horn that juts from her forehead 9 inches outward.
She asks nervously, "Jek Tal'Dor, courier? I'm Ghieena, I need you to make a delivery for me, out-of-town." She fumbles with a meager coin pouch, "I can pay! Of course, just not very much. Can you help me?"
Outside the Poor Sod, half a block away
Nik has reconnected with a former Dustmen associate Khikril and is bringing the strix to one of Nik's favorite taverns.
Somewhere on Ysgard
Waves crash and rock the boat Enoch has chartered to deliver him to Selune's realm. The storm outside threatens to capsize the vessel as lightning strikes top deck and torrents of rain pour downward from a sky angry enough to worry the powers themselves.
Somewhere in the multiverse
Xibalba's lamp and her with it was unceremoniously tossed through a little known door and now she plummets downward past flights and flights of strange stairs.
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Somewhere on Ysgard
The Infinite Staircase appeared every full moon inside Argentil when fog rose from the water. It was said to connect to every city in every plane and perhaps in every time. Traversing this mysterious conduit was known to be quite hazardous and unpredictable.
Pronouncing each syllable precisely practically printing every proper word as if he were a printer, the Aphrorite reads aloud from his notes. The Chronicler of Worlds reaches inside his voluminous white cloak. Producing a package purchased from a reliable resource, Enoch the Wanderer pulls on its tied, knotted string to open it.
Easily excavating the prize from its prison of wrapping paper, the Bard retrieves the bronze compass gifted to him by his former teacher.
Porgaal the Gifter! Truly a wonderful gift. Perfect for traversing The Stairs!
Enoch's blue metallic eyes bounce up to follow the rise and ebb of the waves outside his small porthole inside his cabin.
Selune be willing, of course.
Replacing the bronze compass back inside it's wrapping paper and tightening the string securely, the Aphrorite stands, collects his trusty Haversack and his normal backpack, straps on his longsword, straightens his scorpion whip and makes his way above deck to witness the wonderful sights, sounds, smells being offered in the Gates of the Moon....
It takes a great deal to stand out in the City of Doors, but if the two massive black-feathered wings growing from the dark-eyed man's back fail to do so, the towering amalgam of alchemical devices that follows close behind would do. Khikril's talons click against the city's cobblestones as he eagerly keeps up a stream of conversation with his old colleague. "...but I think my work is worth pursuing, no matter what Slorak and the rest of Postmortem Communications say. Anyhow, how have you been, Nikrir'leldro? I haven't seen you around the Mortuary in some time. Marek said you'd moved to the Rituals division, but he didn't seem to take much of an interest. To be honest, he never really liked you."
The black-winged figure stops as a carriage rumbles past, a pair of translucent membranes sheeting sideways over his ebony eyes in a strange blink as his head cranes to take in the area. "I don't think I've been here often - you said this tavern was your favorite?" His golem, absent any further instruction, continues on its last course, almost knocking the wiry bird-man to the ground as it collides with him. He whirls, scowling. "Krevaar! X-302, increase following distance!" Shaking his head, he turns back to his old colleague. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a hatchling! Is dealing with your deaders always this frustrating, Nik?"
Behind the eccentric alchemist, the rickety contraption stops obediently, the brain in its core bobbing as it steps back, awaiting further instructions. As an opportunistic knight of the cross trade passes by on the other side of the street, enviously eyeing the bizarre alchemist's fine toos, the golem's armored head turns to track him, pistons along its arm activating as it pumps some foul alchemical cocktail into the syringes that serve it as fingers. The thief, thinking better of robbing the alchemist, continues on his way slightly hurriedly.
"Jek Tal'Dor, courier? I'm Ghieena, I need you to make a delivery for me, out-of-town." She fumbles with a meager coin pouch, "I can pay! Of course, just not very much. Can you help me?"
"Wigwag over a bub!" The bariaur's large hand gestures to an open spot. "Gate-town? Spill the dark. Oh, and this cutter's trusted." He nods at Rinika.
"I never liked Marek anyway. Also, call me Nik. And yeah, my shamblers are about the same; only more managable 'cause they're smaller." Nik replies as he, a pair of four-armed skeletons, the dustman, and the alchemical monstrosity walk down the street.
"You probably haven't seen me 'round 'cause I left the rituals division after transferring to it. Saw something I shouldn't have and took a deep dip in the plane of fire. They lifted me a rank after I got back, but that trip earned me a page: I didn't like being a dusty after all." Nik explains.
"I was more of a Namer anyway. Giving up emotions like annoyance is too hard." Nik adds.
Nik gestures to a tavern that... might have grass on top?
"This is the place, the Poor Sod. It has sod on top. Anyway, I'll introduce you to Jek." Nik explains as he pushes open the door and looks to see if the golem can fit inside.
"Maybe have your minder wait outside. Wouldn't want a bill for breaking furniture." Nik suggests, gesturing at X-302.
Nik steps into the establishment. "Hey Rinika, Jek!" he says with a wave.
As he gets closer he adds "Meet Skee, a dusty whose even taller and lankier than me. Not that I'm still a dusty."
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Rinika completes a yawn that feels like it lasted years and eyes the behorned woman, silently contemplating how easy it would be to steal the horn, and wondering how her furry head would look with a magnificent horn. Probably too much work for too little gain, and besides, she had a paying gig! The catfolk holds out one paw for the coin pouch and asks, monotone, "What's the jink?"
At the same time, she slips her other paw under her arms and spears one of Jek's not-meat morsels and pops it into her mouth. She chews for a moment - it tastes surprisingly good! "Mmm!" She continues chewing. Something is off. She retches as her throat rejects the meatless.
Splat, the portions alights upon the table. Rinika frowns at it for a moment until Nik walks in with some sort of strange new prey companion with magnificent wings. "Oh, hey Nik. Skee? What's the chant?" She twitches her tail toward Ghieena. "Basher's got work for us."
The sudden flash of lightning illuminated the tall muscular form of the Aphrorite as he steps onto the main deck. Standing at over 6' and having a firm white marble-like statuesque form, clothed in clean white leathers, satins and cottons all with gold trim and design, Enoch the Wanderer presented a commanding visage.
His blue metallic eyes travel the frequent sightings of lightning flashes, as the roar of the waves angrily assault the sea traveling vessel.
The Chronicler of Worlds walks serenely across the rain pelted deck with ease and aplomb.
"Work? Sounds good. But I didn't like getting knocked out after that last delivery, it isn't a delivery, is it?" Nik replies.
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"It looks like we'll have a small crowd now..." Jek rushes out with blinding speed to greet Nik. "There you are!" The courier's enormous burly arms grab and propel Nik into his magical mithril breastplate in a hug bordering on assault.
"Skee? Welcome to the Sod! It has the best grass in the cage. The booth is right over here. If you're not into grass, you can try some of this stew I've brought from Mambo and Sab's. It's so uncomfortably meat-like you two might be able to animate it."
He settles back into the booth. "Sorry for the interruptions Ghieena. We're in good company. Now what needs to go where and when?"
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Rinika sniffs the air and offers an only slightly-chewed piece of not-meat to Skee.
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"Maybe have your minder wait outside. Wouldn't want a bill for breaking furniture."
Khikril blinks again, glancing back at his golem as if seeing it for the first time. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, that's probably for the best. In a city like Sigil, you'd be surprised how few buildings are designed for the large. X-302, hold position."
As the two enter the tavern, the winged man moves forward to the others his old colleague indicates, shaking their hands vigorously with a massive smile on his face. "Pleasure to meet you two cutters! Name's Khikril - Skeessannak'khikril, to be precise, but what's a minor-name between friends? I'm an old pal of Nik's from the Dustmen. Initiate of the Fifth Circle, Maintenance Division."
At Jek's invitation, the eccentric Dustman tries a bite of the proffered stew, grinning as he tastes the meat-like substance within. "That's actually quite good - where did you say you got it from? If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was tasting ice-borer, from my world - just like my clutch-mother Ainnirrawk'skrisiww used to make!"
As Khikril goes to shake Rinika's hand, he catches a glimpse of her dead spot sliding beneath the sleeve of her garment, and he gives another sideways blink, his head tilting to one side like that of a bird as he examines the catfolk. "You're Rinika, right? Heard a lot of chant about you and your condition in the Mortuary, but I thought you were just a rumor - you know, like that scarred berk who won't stay in the dead-book." He peers closer at her dead spot, prodding at it with a clawed finger. "It's really fascinating - your state between life and death, I mean. It's a shame you're not dead." Realizing himself, he blinks, clearing his throat before continuing. "...That is, not a shame for you, I'm sure. Tell me, have you ever considered donating your body to science? After you reach your next incarnation, we'd cut your body into little pieces, see how you work. You must have lived a good past incarnation, that's for sure - to be reborn in such a way, I mean. If you convert, you might even be able to attain True Death!"
When the conversation turns to the transport job, he turns to face the horned woman, moving over to an empty chair and having a seat. "Forgive my interruption - please, continue. I've always said that seeing new places can be its own reward - though of course, I won't say no to more funds for my research!" At this, he lets out a short burst of strange, screeching laughter before continuing to listen to the woman.
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Welp. Here I am.... Xibalba acknowledged to no one in particular. Not that anyone could hear her from within the confines of the ornate hookah bottle. Whoomf. A sudden muffled impact jostled the bottle walls every few seconds as it descended slowly down what she had realized were likely steps of some kind.
...again. With a heavy sigh shemulled over her circumstances. I swear if I have to deal with one more ham handed mortal who can't word a wish properly...
At first she'd thought Taaliah had likely dropped her in her haste to taxi a new fare, or maybe she was still angry after their tiff. But after twenty minutes of her stomach dropping the continous Whoomf that followed,n she knew the truth was impossibly worse. She should have ended up in a street gutter and yet she continued to fall. She gave a soft prayer of thanks to Ubab for reinforcing her lamp after the last incident.
Sarcasm started to give way to fear as Xibalba couldn't help but wonder just how far down the stairs went.
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Rinika drops the masticated meatless into Khikril's proferred hand with a sweet smile, but as he makes clear that her reputation precedes her, the smile swiftly turns into a scowl. "Ye gods, not another one," sje mutters as he carries on, her ears flattening out on top of her head. She leans back in the booth and pulls her oversized peacoat tight around her, and the only thing keeping her from wishing she was someplace else is the thin shred of discipline tied to the coin purse in the paying client's hand.
"You must have lived a good past incarnation, that's for sure - to be reborn in such a way, I mean."
Is he STILL talking? Wait, that's not... Her jaw drops open in a sneer to correct that bite of grail, but she doesn't follow through. She just shrinks further back into her coat, and as she does so, she begins to fade from view. By the time Khikril is done talking at her, it's very hard to determine if she's even still there at all.
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The Poor Sod
The horned woman becomes quieter and quieter as more and more people surround her. She closes her eyes while holding her hands near her shoulders then brings them forward closing her fists and whispers, "Fortius." After a short thrum of power lays over the woman she continues more confident in her words, "Here's the chant. I need this scroll tube delivered to Oriam Trascalia a spellslinger of the Planewalker's Guild. He resides in their camp on the Infinite Staircase. I can offer 100 gold for such a simple task."
She tells you how to get to the Staircase, "In the Guildhall Ward there is a garden archway, throw an ounce of silver through and a portal will open to the Gates of the Moon. This is the power Selune's realm, there you will find the base of the Staircase."
Somewhere on Ysgard
Enoch is surrounded by men and woman frantically trying to keep the ship on course and managing to do so. Off in the distance the bard spies something huge, a snake the color of fresh snow, slithering through the crashing waves. A moment later one of the sailors cries, "Serpent!" The creature is quickly closing on the ship.
The Infinite Staircase
The hookah seems to tumble end over end endlessly only to be broken up by the occasional free fall as it pitches over some landing or another. Finally after what seems like an eternity it comes to a stop, slowly rolling back and forth.
A red headed woman with the coiling lower torso of a coiling multicolored snake and bright white wings jutting from her back regards the hookah with curiosity.
"Here's the chant. I need this scroll tube delivered to Oriam Trascalia a spellslinger of the Planewalker's Guild. He resides in their camp on the Infinite Staircase. I can offer 100 gold for such a simple task."
Jek looks to the group and back to the horned woman. "Sounds fun! Let's get some drinks and talk details." He smiles and waves for Ariel or Vorn. "Now, I think we both know the jink's a little light, but it seems like you could really use the help. Mind if we talk about that? What's gotcha so tense?"
Enoch's blue metallic eyes travel across the boisterous waves to spy the Wintery Sea Serpent seemingly streaming straight at the particular craft that he currently has personal interest.
That part of the tour?
By the panicked participation of the 3 crew at sighting the Wintery Sea Serpent, the Bard favors a negative response to his recent inquiry.
Not certain how much he can do in this type of situation, the Aphrorite decides to do what any Ysgardian would do in this moment!
Enoch turns to the trio of sea persons!
Quick get in!
The Bard casts Tiny Hut !
Satisfied once all 3 crew personnel are inside the Hut, Enoch closes the door. Taking his Cold -iron longsword out of its home, the Bard turns his blue metallic eyes at the Wintery Sea Serpent.
At least there's witnesses...this time.
Enoch's blue metallic eyes from a reliable source of frustration as he recalls that him leaving the Tiny Hut ends the spell!
We have our Emergency plan in place. Good. Now what to do to avoid using it....
The Aphrorite smiles weakly at the 3 crew personnel....
Captain? How's your Profession Sailor?
"She does seem a bit shy." Nik agrees.
After fading from direct view under Khikril's intense conversating, Rinika speaks up from a perch atop the divider between booths, deciding to draw attention again.
"Jink ain't just light, it's downright paltry, but payment don't always gotta be in coin." She flips a coin in the air and catches it. "Where ya from, and what's in the case? How will we know Trascalia? Has he got more coin for us? What's your favorite color? What else are you offerin'?"