Xibalba of the Lamp's page

Xibalba squeezes past the cages careful not to get snipped. Taking up the rear, she pushes out of the door last and shield her eyes from the light change, staring up at the speck, trying to discern its secrets. She stares hard enough to feel the storm front of a headache peaking so she instead turns her focus on filling her lungs with the sweet open air. Years spent in a lamp had driven home the importance of fresh air to her, and now she was practiclaly a sommelier of breezes.

In and out. In and out.

She relishes the therapy the cycle provided, basking in the serene vista. She reaches upward , growing her form to really stretch her legs as they traveled. She stomps across the metal flooring feeling like she could roar at the bountiful boundless blue just past the spinning fan temples. She'd heard of them in books but had never seen one in all her years.

"A djinn begs pardon, but what purpose doth held by these monuments?" she points at the windmills leaning down to talk to the group, "Tributes to the realm's gods? Borely the people must finden this spinning nonsense. Is this what vexes thum all so?"

She finally reduces her height before entering the city, mindfully musing at the lackluster party that simply begs to be fleshed out with a little wishcraft. She cracks her in knuckles at the thought.

Xibalba was content inside her lamp. She'd squirreled herself away after their encounter with the chain plane and refused to exit until they'd returned. Safe from monstrous illusions and monstrous chain beasties. Somewhere in the miasma of her sleepy consciousnes, she heard her talking of gold and even her name.

She stirred, but refused to leave. No need to test her powers in here, just the warm embrace of brass. Whatever it was, it could wait.

But hearing speak of shadow magic, the djinn emerged from her lamp stretching her back and arms, careful not to knock over any sundries. Retreating from any hanging crystalss up against the tent wall, she nodded apologetically for interrupting and waited for the Technicolor shopkeep finish her friendly schpiel.

She stared intently at the entrapped demon, still deciding if it was in fact a 'poor little thing'. She remained unconvinced but decided her place was not to judge.

"Teala, tha shop is lovely! Likewise, this one is gratefulsome for thy gift. Tha's wish be for door-secrets? Tha's will be done." she punctuated her statement with a curt bow, their contract more social than magical.

Xibalba looked down to her allies, chagrined.

"This wish-wretch regrets her reagal absence. Gravesome thinking's have vexed Great Xibalba of late." The genie leaned forward and gestured her palms up in begging supplication to her companions. "Xibalba would be honored to share thum baddie-battery for shade-hexeries."

After granting Nik's ground-based wish, she shoots him a grateful grin for tending to her arm.

Though some wounds are tougher to heal...

Xibalba attempts to keep watch, occasionaly glancing over her shoulder to show the others she's still listening to their escape plan. Fearing further mental meddling, she takes advantage of the momentary calm to whisper a prayer.

Twisting her fumbling digits, Xiblaba performs the familar holy rite; a series of gestures not unlike those of a sedate centipede moonwalking in concentric circles. She offers self important whispers as further tribute before finishing by lighting a hand rolled 'Beedi'. Inhaling the smoke in three shallow breaths, she silently begs to lose the thought of her lost beloved entombed in murderous chains...and exhales a lie to her God that the ritual is to honor Mahathallah instead.

Perception: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (11) - 2 = 9

The sting of her lacerated arm breaks Xibalba from her horror as the floor collapses beneath her companions. Cursing herself for being too slow to save Khikrils construct or Jek from the foolish Derm, she mournfully eyes the distance below.

"Rinika-friend, Xibalba compliment tha's death dealing." She does little to hide her grin at the sight of the beaten kyton corpse before floating to Nik.

"Wastesome not tha script magic, Flame-kin. 'Might' will suffice us. With tha's permission?" She spreads her larger arms open in a cradle, preparing to descend with her new precious cargo.

"A forewarning. No magicly flying carpet japes or Khikril's option will suddenly be tha's only one..." Xibalba adds with an inscrutable expression.

Will: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

Xibalba gives a shrill scream as the hooks rend her misty flesh. It had been an age since she'd felt the bright searing sensation. For a moment, Penela was back, now wrapped in chains smeared with her bluish blood. She JUST manages to recoil away from the nightmare and fights her instintict to flee. Hearing the fury of her indignant companions brought her back to the frightening present.

Shaking, she stretches a still bleeding arm into a frantic set of snaps as if she would dismiss the rattling horror any faster.

"Violater! Let all wishen this fiend rushed to the grave!"

Xibalba casts Haste on everyone, one more time!

Sense motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

" You...are not this djinn's Penela. This one complements your illusion-craft."

Xibalba almost smirks, impressed as much as she was furious. And yet...she couldn't help but falter at seeing a past love. So lost in what-ifs and could-have-beens she almost misses the chains unfurling from the wall. She recoils as Not-Penela becomes wrapped in the oxidized links.

She does NOT act in the surprise round lol.

Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (11) - 1 = 10

While traversing to the second tower, the Djinn contemplates the best method to fulfill her warden's wish for a beautiful exit before catching sight of the suspended figure.

Xibalba's stomach drops and her heart climbs into her throat upon seeing the familiar form of 'Finnie' in the flesh. She knew those eyes despite the century and half since seeing them last. The lonely ache of those years apart Tumblr hrough her mind as she chokes back tears. She points towards the floating figure.

"Mahathallah weeps! A djinn knows them! They are Penela Finduelis!"

Wiithout a second thought, and preparing to break reality itself to free them, Xibalba furiously billows to their side.

But as she gets closer her words trail off realizing something was slightly off. Maybe it was the distance but upon closer inspection the way they moved and their cadence was uncanny. The thing wearing her once-paramores face was not Finnuela.

"Wait. Wha-what are you?" she asks almost in a whisper.

Xibalba floats forward to capture sight of as many wardens at once before snapping her fingers.
"Tha's wish must regretfully go unrealize, flame-kin. Xibalba must entrapt a demon firstwise."

Instead, the djinn imbues all allies with Haste, water to be rid of their terrifying quarry with all do haste

I think that I can really only get Jek, X-302, & Kikhril due to them all being within thirty feet of each other.

Xibalba retreats to join Gibbarren as her allies silence the last Viper and apply their expertise. The usually confident djinn angrily examines her lamp as if it had committed a great crime. Hey fingers coil around it as if choking it for answers.

"A genie's magic is mosten supreme. Infallible...until these blasted stairs. Without wishes, what is a djinn?" she asks rhetorically. Xibalba scrunches her nose at the idea of needing demon jewelry to fulfill her duties. She watches Jek's restless antics and ponders the future, before answering Rinika.

"Upward and onward, friend-feline."

Xibalba gives a self-congrulatory scoff as her wish-magic uplifts her wardens, their movements a now a skillfull flurry.

Here ears burn, as the ephemeral power of a wish drifts over the fray. Emboldened, she surges forward, ghosting through obstacles to poke through the chain wall.

"Granted! Granted! Granted!"

She shouts, emphasizing each word with an aggressive click of her fingers. Every snap summons forth orbs made of sand and electricity enveloping the green snakes. They crackle and burn the atmosphere as if plucked from the heart of a thunderous sandstorm.

Cast Shadow Evocation: Ball Lightning with a 26DC Will(disbelieve) & Reflex(damage) save. Here's SR checks and damage if they fail.

Red Spell Resistance: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

Blue Spell Resistance: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31

Yellow Spell Resistance: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27

Red Snake Damage: 3d6 ⇒ (3, 2, 5) = 10

Blue Snake Damage: 3d6 ⇒ (5, 5, 4) = 14

Yellow Snake Damage: 3d6 ⇒ (1, 5, 1) = 7

The Kyton disguised genie finally takes in the danger and clears her throat, inspired by some ancient text she'd read in one of Brass City's grand libraries.

"A djinn wishes to show the meaning of HASTE"

Sweat builds upon her forehead as she raises her cracked fingers together and with great struggle manages a solid snap, releasing a sound not disimilar to stones cracking against one another.

The djinn's magics fluctuates and stutters as she utters the wish herself, weaker than if it had been requested by another. Deep gold smoke billows forth from her to her companions, their movements now leaving a trail like a sparkler firework.

Cast Haste on everybody!

"Thus, Khikril, the Thirdly Age of Diarchal Politics in the City of Brass began by blade and the first turn hearted wishen."

The genie was so focused in her pontification about historical politics in her homeland that her thought of danger had waned. Only the books beyond Jek manage to capture her attention. So many new words...

Then Jek cries out.

Xibalba drops her book, stunned at the sight of her quadruped warden in pain. She curses her inattentive nature but refuses to act impetiously.

"Master Jek!" was all she could manage.

Xibalba's eyes glow gold at Nik's plea and she prepares to drop her focus on their illusion magicks. She smiled to hersfelf, confident that it's power would still remain for at least half a prime day. She gestures a protective symbol with her right hand, fingers twisting in an archaic and strange manner. With her left she readies a snap of her fingers to dismiss any magically controlled chains which attack her wardens.

Dispel magic: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18

"Ask and receive..." the Djinn whispers drifting forward partially thought the wall.

After quietly listening to the intense chatter, Xibalba floats forward assuredly, the jingling of her bangles joining the chorus of chain around them.

"Xibalba hasen such cloaking magics. Only lasts for half a solar day and a group must herd closewise post casting." She offers a toothy grin and cracks her fingers, genuinely happy to be of aid.

Xibalba ducks into the tent and finds the first unoccupied spot to plop down cross legged. She watches over Rinika’s shoulder to catch a peek at her Oriam’s arcane text, patiently waiting for her turn at the library. Perhaps he has a mystery novel or two…

“Xibalba has never helden such a membership ! And a room too! So honorsome to be a parten of tha’s fancy sounding collective.”

——-

At the Lillend’s plea the djinn’s manner turns serious. She had learned to befriend loneliness and boredom during her time spent in the bottle and could imagine fewer fates worse than any of these many worlds losing their color and flavor. Xibalba stretches, quietly addressing Rinika’s question for a list with a secondary concern.

“Wardens, where to travel firstly? Dead worlds or dying ones?”

Xibalba stretches, beaming up at her companions ascending to their rattled delivery recipient. The giant djinn nods to Jek before floating up to join them.

"A sadful tale you share, but allow us to counter with one of victory. Thy wizard self was found through courage, guile, and a smidge-ish of backtracking. Foe-folk were banishedwise with vigorous violence and magics. We-beings heartily accepten your array of colorful juices."

Less than gracefully, but no less dutifully she gathers the potions with the approval of her wardens to distribute. She hungrily eyes one of the greenish liquid flasks, a whisper of a hope in her heart held out that it tasted of apple.

Xibalba stalking behind Jek blinks rapidly, suddenly awakened from her reading stupor by Nik's request. For a genie, the words of a wish from a warden always resonated above normal chatter. Heavy and clear, as if it was bolded on a page.

Xibalba bookmarks her novel(The Mysteries of Saluar) with a finger and snaps with the other hand at the cavalier Halfling. The Genie's eyes blaze with gold tinted power as she momentarily looks larger, hair blowing in an unseen breeze.

"Thy will be done!" she thunders.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Dispel Magic: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26

The djinn uses most of their time at the guild simply people watching. She was unfamiliar with card game and floated nearby in an effort to learn. She can't help but laugh as the Paladin spurns them forth.

"Never boring wise around thee!"

She spends the return trip chatting about shadow keys with Rinika and Nik. But she becomes consumed when Khikril opens the strange feeling a familiar heat wash over her.

"Tha's home plane!" She pushes her larger frame past him poking her head inside, just to remind herself of it's smell and gorgeous vistas. The glimmering of Malsheem sent an ache through her heart.

"Shamely fortunes that our gathering can not visit, but new masters would crispify under the weight of Xibalba's world. Perhaps another time?"

She reaches down and snags a loose igneous stone near the door, breathes deeply of her realm one last time, then retreats back to the platform.

As they continue to the next split in the stairs, she starts to offer the rock as a souvenir to Khikril when he suddenly starts shouting about some spectral murderer nearby. The famously oblivious djinn squints around for any sign of their assailants.

Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7

Xibalba finishes marveling at the flute over Rinika's shoulder, grateful to witness a curious magic oddity in the wild so soon after her release from the bottle.

She claps vigorously at Khikril's door introduction, eager to visit yet another world. She gasps at the sight of dunes, wind whipping her long fabrics wildly. Taking a deep breath, she burys her feet in the sand.

"Green. This one has seen purple and black sand, but never green."

The Djinn follows them lazily towards the cave, watching the sculptures curiously as the group picks at the lone body for hints.

"Master-Jek, perhaps us return hencewise to a Guild to obtain such answers? Surely thum knows of a green door so near. "

Xibalba cringed as another spray of acid scattered across Jek.

“This one’s magics are finite on the stairs. Besideswise, tha is forbidden from harming a Wish Warden. Not even a wish coulden sunder this vow.

The djinn drifts around further onto the platform floating and smoking, while watching the group.
“A lone soldier is for thee.”

Xibalba’s head automatically snaps up to Nik. She wags a finger, smirking. “Tsk tsk. Tha has received a wish this day, kiln-kin” . The wag turns to a snap. Using his wish as a component, the giant djinn floats forward, spewing fumes from her hookah gathering towards her wish warden.
“Second go around is less than perfectwise.” Her eyes crackle as she passes through her companions, floating partially in the stairs near the scuffle. At the touch of her smoke, Jek takes on a more cloudy nature.

Shadowform on Jek. DC26 to disbelieve or 20% hit chance for enemies attacking him. +1 caster level due to Nik’s wish.

Mwerpy d100: 1d100 ⇒ 49

Will Save: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

She waves at the departing Enoch, knowing that endless beings like them would eventually meet again.

Even though the spider was now silent, her nausea hadn’t faded, if anything it had worsened. An out of key melody ran torturous circles in her head, and covering her ears didn’t seem to help.

”Not music, tha is too charitable. Any fool can maketh noise, Master-Jek.”
When the mob of Mane came into view, Xibalba calls out and squares up. “Vile homunculi, cease throttling cats instantwise!”

Mwerpy, eh?

Xibalba shrugs, busier bemoaning her sniffles. Her misery is cut short though watching bombs suddenly lob forth and her warden plow headfirst into the web as well as its keeper. Despite her astonishment of Jek’s combat prowess, she inhales deeply from her hookah and blows out towards the creature sending a cloud white aromatic stream of smoke billowing. It crosses the webby stairs toward the psychic menace curling into the shape of ten foot chains, wrapping around its limbs.

Shadow Evocation Chains of Perdition DC 25 Will Save to disbelieve.
Dirty Trick Entangle CMB: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (13) + 17 = 30
Knowledge Planes on Glabrezu: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Recalling no such creature, Xibalba sinks into the stairs moving across the bottom, incorporeally gliding closer to the Bebilith.

The djinn trudges up the stairs, so eager to embrace the exercise she revels in the aches and pains.
At first she thinks the Arachne-kin might be more potential friend than foe despite it's appearance, a default sentiment which often gets her into trouble.

As it's threads vibrate to address the group, Xibalba sneezes.
Ugh, telepathy.

Perhaps, they could not be friends after all.

After Enoch's bid she motions to herself and turns to her companions. Her voice sounds stuffy as if she has a head cold.
"Hmmm. While this one does not speaken for us, but advises taking such a deal. A contract is preferablewise and this Gerzzog expectes us not at all. "

It's a desolate waste, covered in every direction with ice.

Xibalba's excitement at his story of an expansive alien world turns to concern as he lays out his history before her. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he tells it.

"Such a sorrowsome tale. Tha has seen true hardship. It was not a Djinn's intent to harm with a question of one's cursedly home. Let us only speaken of sky blue worlds!"

Funny how the planes work out sometimes, isn't it?"

She nods as he mentions the humor behind their origins.

Planeswalker Guild

Xibalba balks at the crowds, stunned by the melting pot of cultures and every shape and variety of person. Surely there was room here for a Djinn? Xibalba sits with Master Jek and people-watches. Lamp life always left her a bit claustrophobic so she decides to give herself more space.

Aler-Self via Greater Shape change

Xibalba suddenly reduces to a quarter size, taking on the appearance of a halfling. Large rounder ears and smaller frame but still Xibalba nonetheless. She stretches, kicking her embiggened feet off the steps, indulging in all the new leg room afforded to her.

...his notebook as he awaits a response to his esoteric and largely incomprehensible query.

While Enoch tells his stories, she initiates her daily meditation, leisurely partaking of her hooka and floating just an inch or two off the platform. When Khikril returns with an onslaught of questions and theory after theory, she cranes her neck and lends an ear for as long as she's able. She even holds her breath at one point to see if she can outlast his elaborate inquiry.

Silent Image

"Such sturdiness belies an ancient nature. This one would suppose the stairs were the first of ALL things, akin to a tree of mythlore, and each world a leaf?"

she hands a large loaf of a sweetened bread to Xibalba

Hoping this wild guess would satisfy him, Xibalba takes the now large offering of bread from Rinika with a gracious nod, savoring it slowly. It's the first piece of food she's had in what feels like an age. She offers the hookah hose in return, tuning in to the talk of blue spores.

Also, thanks Xibalba. I'll try not to be too greedy.

The Djinn smirks and underlines the floating word ‘greedy’ with her finger before dismissing the illusion with a wave. She gives a flourishy bow to Enoch’s excited outburst and turns to Skeessannak'khikril.

So what of you?

“Tha has the great Xibalba at disadvantage. Outside of books and tales, only the plane of fire is well known to us. Forbidden to leaven by a master now long gone, a woesome tale best not indulged. Tha speaks of visiting so many other planes, but does tha have a favorite? Does tha miss Verces? “

She whispers back to Jek, but only to exclude any being listening outside the party.

Xibalba, who are the Maidens of Mist you mentioned?"

“Illusionists and retainers of secrets who seek keys to the cage of mortal existence. A collective of dreamwalkers inspired by the former Maiden of Mist, whose gaze pierced any veil and parted all fog. Siblings in cause, sworn to guide fantasists along the path of ambition and realization of the self. This one asks, ‘What is a wish if not a rejection of reality?’ “

"-We're all friends, so please 'extend wishing' to any of us as you see fit."

Xibalba nods at Jek's words. She places her palms together, elbows out and whispers in an overly eager but thoughtful tone.

"Friend? Equitable wardens are so raresome...Hmmm. Agreed, an acordaunt is maden betwixt us as comrades. " She shakes his hand with her own jewel laden one to seal the partnership. "This one pledges by the Maidens of Mist, Master's mysteries will never leaven these lips."

She finishes with a finger-snap towards Nik as he wishes, just before Jek chastises him.

Silent Image.

Eyes aglow, she traces her finger in the air as small smoldering script flows out like a pen made of fire ink, suspened before Nik. The words mirror those on her Hookah but translated to common.

"Gratitude, Master Jek for taking tha role as warden seriouswise. Tho, consent is given without vex, Flame-kin Nik."

The djinn follows the others onto the platform and up the stairs when they see fit, sticking close to the center of the group to chat. Her large size returns shortly there after.

"This one accepts a Lillend's decision. Gratitude to thee for sheperding us safely. "

The Djinni turns to Jek, and claps in excitement.
"A new master has a keenly aesthetic eye. The shisha is this one's home, prison, & promise in one. A contemptuous Salamander tried to destroy it but a Djinn has many skilled friends. No doubt tha is also righteous of heart to have gained Tunglsgeisli's respect in such a brief time. Xibalba is honored to have tha as wishwarden, if tha finds such a prospect acceptable. "

Xibalba acknowledges Rinika's interrogation bemused before leaning forward. "Well, this one could asken why is tha so short? But one can briefly save the strain of a catling's neck-" Xibalba stands up as her form diminishes, shrinking down, down, down, until she is no longer towering, but a still formidable six feet tall.
Reduce person on self via Efreeti's magic.

"A Djinn does not eat, but can. Nor does she need legs, so in times of flight they turn into so much smoke. For us, size and form is fluid, so doors are more a suggestion" She then demonstrates her intangibility by passing through a nearby silvery pillar, coming out the other side intact and smiling.

"Xibalba offers the gift of wishcraft. Holders of the hookah can extend wishing to others, like thee. A heart’s desire delivered, but not as permanently as the stair’s path might bestow…yet. A wish a day as best a genie’s magic can manage...with conditions."

So tell me, what is the Staircase like? I have heard it described as an endless maze of stairs and landings, stretching ever upward and onward into infinite possibilities.

The sight of so many colorful and strange beings turns Xibalba's posture rigid.  After shaking the small but energetic  hand of the one called Skeessannak'khikril, she quietly forms her smoke trail into legs and lands gingerly barefoot on the smooth floor.

“Tha speaks true. Stairs upon stairs upon stairs. This one is no architect, but promises it is a sight to behold. Much like this gathering…”

All these wondrous beings...surely one of them would make a suitable warden...

Towering over the group, Xibalba kneels down roughly eye level with the tallest of them and then prostrates further with a quick bow. In a polyphonic voice as if three are speaking at once she quietly but confidently announces herself to the party. “Salutations to all! This one is humbled to be in the presence of such accomplished travelers. A Djinn’s name is Xibalba, the immortal gift bearer.”

Straightening back to kneeling, she turns to her lillend companion, waving a ring laden hand toward the precious Shisha. “Seemingly, tha has a prompt choice to make.”

Xibalba mulls over the Lillend's word-thoughts and stretches her long arms.

"Ah, well-versed, angel-kin! Tha embraces a kingly philosophy. Contrarywise, this one has found that us and others are ALL slaves of a kind. Bound to...dogma or the wheel of fate or nature most grand. For thee, righteous goodness is a cloak that can't unclasp. For a Djinn, a cosmic net of dreams and whim. But, a Djinn owns this. Owns their purpose."

She resumes floating and stows her sitar and breathes deeply of the fresh(er) air. She scratches her forehead and gives a toothy grin with a shrug chaser.

"Fie! What does a genie know of truth? Forgive these wearysome thoughts from the bottle, they leaken from time to time to time. If tha can not be a wishwarden, then this one would be honored by an escort to another of favorable make. "

Xibalba smokes a pipe and gets lost in their chat as they travel, oblivious to most sights along the way.

At the words of Tunglsgeisli, Xibalba gave a hearty laugh sending the coin chains sewn to her robe into a jangling ferver.

Fame. Fortune. Power. Most wishes fell under the these categories. She never begrudged the wisher any of them, but that didn't stop her from treasuring the simplicity of desiring only art.

"Lucky for the, this one is made of stories. Our honored angel-kin will find them far from yawnsome."

The giant figure pulls an ornate polished sitar from her back with an errant smoke trail and tunes it briefly before regaling the audience of one with the tale of her 648th wish granted. A half hour comedy of errors myth containing tyrants, mistaken identity and lost love. Her long cracked legs form beneath her to better sit upon the steps.

Lore: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
Lore(Guiding Spirit reroll): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16
Perform Spoken Word Sitar: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Use auditory hallucinations and silent image to add effects for the story.

She weaves her spells and plucks her instrument, lost in the moment. "Thum of old learned a golden lesson, a pebble casten today is the beginning of a thousand-year causeway." Her chorus like voice finally finishes with a morale and a grin greedy for applause, " AND to always about-face from hometown wencheries!"

A rattling overtook the hookah, and it began billowing forth amber mist smelling of fiercely of honey and rain. A voluminous sparkling fog begins to swirl around the Lillend, as the stairs shake from the magical effort. Bursts of light spark forth from the end of the hookah with brilliant sunglow flashes.

A large outline of a twelve foot robed female form takes shape from the sheets of smoke, with two burning golden eyes and darkened scelera. She stretches her full sinewy length covered in metallic yellow cracks, and wrenches her neck with a satisfied roar. Coins and chains hanging from her rattle and clink endlessly against her sepia skin as she floats effortlessly around and through the stairs in celebration. Her lower half pools continuously from the lamp in folds of brassy smog, which doesn't stop her from bowing respectfully.

"Thrice honored celestial! Tha have this one's sincerest gratitude. Oh, the rapturous joy of having angelkin for a wishmaster!"

"Freeing the immortal and cosmically powerful Xibalba earns tha a wish," she announces theatrically, holding forth a giant spectral hand with a cautionary finger up. "of course, conditions...apply."

Prestidigitation for effect

Finally.

The lamp rolls to a gentle stop and after what felt an aeon, Xibalba enjoys peace of stable footing. She takes a deep symbolic breath and concentrats on getting the dizziness to subside. She could tell that she was likely no longer in the plane of fire from the absence of heat and the long constant steps. She'd tumbled from a mountain once and it was an entirely different affair.

From within the lamp, her brass tinted smokey form can make out a large shape through the murky blue confines. She can't tell much from the outline but knows they were more than humanoid. Something on their back. Wings. Bat maybe? No, are those feathers? And some kind of lengthy coiling lower half. She'd had many, many, wishlords of all shapes and sizes (most were residents of the fire plane) but this was likely to be in the top ten oddest.

Relief floods her. Whether they end up being evil or righteous, at least she doesn't have to play the waiting game. For Xibalba, such a game was more a war of attrition, with her sanity on the line. She'd only lost the 'game' once in all her time bound by the hookah, and she'd barely managed to pull herself back from that heinous void.

This new potential wishmaster simply scoops up the hookah and began descending. Could they not read the inscription? Maybe they had but were too afraid. Surely off plane beings had heard of Djinn before. Maybe they were simply going to sell it at some otherworldly market. If she really was off plane then she needed to ready herself for an otherwordly sensory overload. She welcomed it at this point. Anything was better than this achingly boring purgatory.

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.

Dot!