The party makes their way to the Twilight Wall district, a relatively easy walk for several blocks. When they round it they see, as advertised, the wall casts a long shadow over the district, except that the shadow extends beyond the wall in a straight line until it hits the edge of the metal disc this city is improbably built on. The effect is similar to that of dusk or dawn with the promise of light but no apparent source.
Once you enter the district you can tell this is the seedier part of town, where the lower class resides and where the cony catchers ply their trade. However, no one tries to bob you, either due to your own auras or the Iron Shadow’s.
You also notice that the wind still blows air across your face, refreshing as it was on the other side, but the direction is different.
While searching for the scene of Mearall’s death, you come across a tavern called The Looking Glass.
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The seedier part of town doesn't seem to phase Jek. In fact, he seems right at home. He couldn't help but notice that it's far nicer than most of the short-cut routes through Sigil. There aren't people everywhere to avoid. There's no unplaceable yet persistent odor. There's even a lovely breeze. He might take a route like this in Sigil even if it took longer. And if all of that weren't enough, there's also a good chance that they're the scariest things out here today.
Jek's eyes go wide. A tavern! He happily trots up to the door, holds it open, and nods for his friends to enter. "They're bound to know more in here... and I bet their drinks won't taste like rusty chains!"
"I suppose we can find that Oracle afterwards." Nik shrugs.
"Think they have tea?" He adds as he walks in, accepting Jek's invitation.
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"Jek, do you like tea because it's just liquid hay?" Rinika slinks into and takes stock of the place, looking for a bartender or any patrons who don't look completely torporous to ply with questions.
"Hiyo, we was lookin'for Mearall and caught the chant he was in the deadbook now. What was he like, he a regular? Shame, that. Hear there's been a spot o' trouble late with a whole batch of mephits bitin' the iron too, what's the dark? And on that, they ever figure why the light's so light yonder the wall? What's on offer for drinks, can we have 3 ales, a large bucket of ale, and a large bucket of tea? Hot leaf juice? Liquid hay? Jek, how do you feel about kombucha?"
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Xibalba shudders at Jek's mention of chains. As sketchy as the neighborhood looks, her heart swelled at the mention of deliteriois liquids. Hshe hadn't met one she hated.
Just before she steps into the Looking Glass with her motley companions, she reduces in height to a halfling version of herself, like sands shifting and rearranging.
She spots Rinika running off to interrogate locals and her first instinct was to follow collecting notes for later review. But, she was struck with a much genre appropriate plan.
High fiction, not gritty pulp.
Hoping this form would be just the right amount of 'icious', she nudges forward between tables and unholsters her red lacquered Sitar. Her scarred fingertips dance to tune the instrument, a soft request to the owners as if to ask, 'is this acceptable. She carefully strums an inoffensive tune, doing her damnedest to match energy with the establishment. Nothing fancy.
She'd read this particular tactic in the Chronicles of Investigator Hayer Pinn. The tituar hero did the same with a war flute at a masquerade so his partner could uncover the baronesses gossips.
Hidden in plain sight... she thought self assuredly.
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"Jek, how do you feel about kombucha?"
Jek smiles somewhat perplexed. "Tea's nice, but it strains out the best part... Nik's a fan though I think. No, just a big-ole ale please. It's ripe cud juice without the wait, ya know? Speaking of... do you also serve the hops and barley? Mash is fine." After ordering that and the fanciest plants he can find on the menu, he begins scouting the place for a quiet preferably shadowy booth or table that can be suitably rearranged for the party while also sorta close to the Sitar music.
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"I've warmed up to it lately, but I'm mostly asking 'cause we got hipped by that rainbow lookin' lady whats-her-face. Until now I didn't think it'd be a pain to taste test the tea behind each portal. Maybe still worth the trouble for the demon-gem thing." Nik explains, apparently not interested in exerting any effort whatsoever to repay the gift. Or perhaps still feeling suspicious of Teala.
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The unassuming and boring bartender brings over the requested ale and tea, imported from Sigil. They apologize for not having anything suitable for Jek to eat or sit on. He provides drinks to Xibalba and her companions for free as she plays a melody or sorrow and loss not heard here in ages. She’s surprised to hear one patron exclaim, ”The City of Brass right? It’s been a while since I’ve gone fire-wards.”
As Rinika prowls the bar she finds a bubber with his head looking down into a cup filled with the cheap stuff. His sandy brown hair is long and unkempt as are his fingernails. He looks tired and he smells of alcohol and aged sweat. Rinika also notices a faded patch, a spiral handled dagger that’s being engulfed by streams of water, or something more abstract. She recognizes the symbol, it belongs to the Fraternity of Order, or derisively the Guvners. The faction is not subtle about their stated goals, though they state them dryly, the study of laws of the multiverse to gain power.
The man speaks in the slurred speech of someone who should be cut off, ”Sheeess intha dead-book. Aaan good riddance. Juss more trash. She even tried to bob old Deirdarth, Not thatit matteerss, he’s gone missin too.”
The bubber chuckles, ”Thass aight. He wass only good fer borrowin jink.”
When asked about the Twilight wall and the Iron Shadow he says, ”Dunno, sstoped carin about that sstuff afer those crossss-traderss took my book from me.”
The bartender looks at Rinika pleading, she gets the sense he’s about to tell a story that he’s repeated a million times to any sod who will listen to him.
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The bubber continues his tale unhindered by anyone nearby, the bartender complains, ”Ghuntomas, please,” before leaving. You’re relatively alone with this obviously down on his luck Guvner. ”Ever-Changing Order,” he pronounces the title carefully, starting to sober up and speaking more clearly.
”What amazes me is that even those people who believe that Chaos can be ordered cannot admit that Order can be chaotic. How can people who study the Multiverse so closely be so terribly blind? My book was a treatise on how these forces are not opposed but work together. The alchemy verified it! My faction urged me to keep my findings quiet, but I published anyway without their help. I should have known they would bob me in the end. I had to flee Sigil and then the publisher declared that I was in breach of contract. As if I would be in breach.”
He continues, "Here in Blurophil, I have to remain, with no prospects my jink is gone. I had to pawn off what little equipment I was able to recover, I have nothing now. Nothing but this empty cup."
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Jek chuckles. "Sigil's misbehaving modrons are hard to miss, but uptight folks don't get out much..." Having not started his ale yet he uses it to half-fill Ghuntomas's cup. "Now, I've never seen or delivered a scrap of order or chaos... seems they're just words that float about the tavern from time to time. You though, you need work for jink for drink. Start there. There's always some sorta work about if you'll take it." He pulls out two mystery rations and slides them by the half-full cup. "As for order, it's like the herd elders say '"a perfect order" wouldn't have to blame so much stuff on its neighbors.'"
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Nanci taps on Rinika’s shoulder, if she didn’t know better she would think that Nanci was annoyed. Clearly an impossibility.
Ghuntomas, unperturbed by Jek’s gentle suggestion, continues and latches onto the part he cares about, ”See! You get it! If I had a purer sample of Chaos and Order I could have proved without a doubt my theories. But such a thing could only be found in Limbo or Mechanus, and even then it would be rare indeed.”
He digs into the rations and drinks the bub, ”I could have done that when I was younger. My mind was a lot clearer back then. I've hit the blinds.” He motions to his empty cup expectantly.
Rhinika slides herself into the conversation and slaps the poor sod on the back. "You ask me, anyone who makes up rules at their pleasure to benefit just 'emselves like the Guv'ners do ain't making the rules up to support the order of the multiverse. And maybe the way that everything everywhere inevitably falls apart into chaos has a bit of...well, inevitability is a hallmark of order, eh? It's a bit academic though, innit? What's to worry about all that when there's killers on the loose here? Ain't you worried about them?"
The bubber waves his hand at Rinika, ”Bar that. The killer won’t come for you cutters in a while. I think I have their pattern, each killing is three days apart except after the third, the killer waits six days. Rule of Three all over it.“
He holds the cup up to his mouth for a minute to get at the last drops, ”So another killing tomorrow, but I won’t shed a tear for the victim. The first three? Some paladin, a scullery maid, and a member of the Fraternity of Order. Lawful bunch, I assume the maid was anyway. Next set some warrior from Acheron, a priest of Set, and someone rumored to be a contract killer. Still lawful but twisted by evil. The first victim in this set? Some thug? Do you see it now? "
He pauses for a moment hoping that it dawns on the party, he moves onto explain regardless of whether it does or not, ”The killer is moving around the Great Ring with each victim a stand-in for that plane. Mount Celestia, Arcadia, Mechanus, Acheron, Baator, Gehenna, The Gray Wastes. Next victim will represent Carceri, the Prison Plane, they’ll be a right bastard. Anyway, scragging the killer is a job for the Royal Guard. I’m surprised they haven’t posted lookouts on top of the dome, or at Sorrow’s Roost to watch for them.”
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Xiblaba ears perk up at the mention of her home, She tries to get a glimpse of the patron who spoke out to her through her pipes smoke. Despite her elation to find her homes reach even here she switches to a melonchaly tone in a native language, keeping beat with the Sitar. She offers a song of longing.
"Smokerly stranger sits us sees before,
Eyewise distant like molten shore.
Fire-touched face remembers thuswise,
Brass City's golden streets recognize tha?
"Does your heart smolder at the sight of our molten seas?
Return to the blazing walls and golden dreams!
Do you miss the Grand Bazaar's endless treasures?
Return to the torch-touched life!"
She folds the music into a holding pattern of Sitar plucks as she awaits the individuals response.
"Carceri...is there a prison round here? Gaol?" The beginnings of a plan to sloppily bob a guard to get to the right place at the right time beginnings to percolate.
Khikril's eyes light up as he listens to Rinika and the mad scholar talk. "Oh, yes, I see what you're saying! Whoever's killing people would have to get into and out of the prison, and from what we've seen of the city, they're probably kotarr - I could keep an eye on the entrances from up high, keep them from losing us in the alleys." The avian alchemist shrugs. "It sounded like all the killings were in the Twilight District, though - not sure if we'll catch whoever this is in another area. If they don't have a prison in the Twilight, I could just bumble around the back alleys until someone tries to rob me, see if that helps."
Fixing on one of the man's statements, he turns to Ghuntomas, raising his eyebrows. "You said they don't have anyone on top of the dome or Sorrow's Roost - I assume that's that little speck of rock up in the sky? I could fly up, keep an eye out." He clears his throat before continuing. "I'm not sure my eyes are quite... that good, but I expect they'll have a telescope for sale somewhere here." He nods to Rinika. "X-302 can go with y... probably go with Jek, to be honest - it's not exactly a quiet machine."
"Wherezzat dome and sorrow's roost? Know an easy way up?" Nik inquires.
The patron is a human man with long white hair drawn in a simple pony tail and goatee kept neat. He wears simple blue robes and carries a staff inlaid with runes. Happily he listens to Xibalba’s song until he realizes he’s actually engaged in a conversation. Sputtering the man says, ”I’m sorry miss. I’m more of a wizard than a bard.”
He snaps his fingers and says, ”Incinerate. If you make your way to Sigil, in the Clerk’s Ward you will find the Hall of Information. They’re using a portal to Fire as a garbage disposal. Saying incinerate is the portal key. I don’t know the key back I’m afraid and I’d think the Efreeti don’t either or they’d give the Bordon Mok and his Mercykiller cronies a piece of their mind.”
Ghuntomas shrugs, ”Resources are limited. So ironically this refuge for exiles, exiles law breakers.” He suggests ”If you can’t fly to Sorrow’s Roost, Saakrak rents hippogriffs.” He motions to his cup, ”I can give you directions to her kip.”
Khikril nods. "Well, it sounds like we have a plan. I have a few things I'd like to pick up while we're in the city, but I'd be glad to help out in whatever way I can." The mad alchemist glances at Nik, raising his eyebrows. "Incidentally, if we do end up splitting up, I think I can direct my golem to follow your instructions - it's a bit different from your average deader, but the principles are the same. Oh, and if you hear screaming, disregard it - it's an auditory hallucination." The strix grins, nudging his aasimar friend in the ribs with a bony elbow. "You know what they say - you can take the brain out of the psychic and put it in a golem, but you can't take the psychic out of the brain in the golem! Oh, and don't take the brain out of the golem, either."
"Sounds good." Nik nods.
"The leaving the brain in and me ordering it around." Nik clarifies.
"I have experience with the less-abled." Nik explains, looking at the door where his very large shambler is standing guard.
"I'll go see if those limited resources include a scroll of something that could help us out. Or maybe I can just borrow a spellbook. Maybe some way to see who might be the next target." Nik thinks aloud to noone in particular, ignoring Ghuntomas's offer entirely.
Jek shakes his head "Ride a hippogriff? Not enough ale in the bar... speaking of..." He pours another half glass from his mug into Ghuntomas's, and then pours a little more into his mouth without touching it to his lips. "Know anything else?"
Ghuntomas gives you directions to hippogriff rentals anyway and mutters into his cup, "If I only had the right catalyst... augh I need my book its all in there. Might be able to save the town."
Nik looks around for a magic shop before heading over to Sorrow's Roost.
Nik finds his scroll merchant in the greybeard caught by Xibalba’s music. He happily let's Nik puruse his spellbook, a series of scrolls inked with flowing calligraphy on washi (rice paper).
Rinika will fly under her own power to Sorrow's Roost, grumbling a bit that they could have just gotten arrested.