Xibalba of the Lamp's page

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!