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<blockquote data-quote="Eluvan" data-source="post: 1895453" data-attributes="member: 24812"><p>Dante is given a decent amount of room as he walks down the streets of the Lower Ward. Either he's doing a good job of fitting in, or most bloods know power when they see it, know a clueless when they see one, put two and two together, and decide that clueless spellslingers are the most dangerous kind and there's easier meat elsewhere. He has little difficulty finding somebody willing to give him directions; next to the beggars, touts are about the easiest sods to find in the Lower Ward. </p><p></p><p>Of course, finding an <em>honest</em> tout is a different matter entirely. After a few minutes, though, Dante thinks he's found a safe bet. Standing a few inches taller than anybody else around, the tall man in fine, delicate chain armour is easily noticeable from quite a distance as he makes eye contact with Dante, smiles pleasantly, and moves gracefully through the crowd to meet him. At first he seems Elven, and certainly his appearance has many characteristics in common with that race, including his delicate yet well-defined features and long, pointed ears, but on second glance he seems to be something else. The violet colour of his eyes and distinct green tinge to his skin point to origins that Dante cannot place. He falls into step with the telepath and strolls alongside him as he looks over with a wry smile and speaks. "I'm guessing you're new here, cutter? I've gotta give you some credit; you do a better job of hiding it than most."</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p> ((Isida, remember that you can't planeshift into Sigil. You can only get in via a portal. It's not a big deal, but it means you might want to edit your first post.)) </p><p></p><p> Scanning the crowd, Vestra doesn't have to wait long before she finds what she's looking for. Walking aloof and purposeful across the market place is a mage, advertising his magical might the way only a spellslinger can (or would want to). Long, flowing robe with arcane runes - check. Staff with similar runes, glowing - check. Enough Ioun stones to play a game of marbles with circling his head in strange and interlocking orbits - check. Black cat with glowing eyes, perched on shoulder - check. She trails him at a reasonable distance for a minute or two before he leaves the street, entering a small building off to the side of the street. As she gets closer she can see a messily written wooden sign proclaiming the building to be <em>Therislanna's Emporium of Magical Sundries</em>. Vestra isn't convinced this is entirely what she was looking for, but it does seem rather intriguing... </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p> Garant is left to read and drink in peace for now. The big story of the day is a supposed sighting of the Mercykiller's Wyrm flying over the Hive. One Hiver had come forward and declared that it ate her son. Three different groups of Xaositects and one group of Anarchists have each claimed sole responsibility for freeing it from the Tower. The Mercykillers deny that the Wyrm has gone missing, but refused to let a reporter enter the Tower to check and made threats upon his person when he pressed the issue. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p> Davian sits down at the dice table, finding himself next to a Vrock on one side and a Halfling on the other. He recognises the Vrock - he's something of a regular at the <em>Bariaur</em>, though why isn't exactly clear. He finds it unlikely that the demon simply has a taste for gambling, though of course anything is possible... </p><p></p><p> He has decent luck, and in the first few rounds makes five greens and three stingers. The name for the coins is rapidly becoming apparent, as the Vrock handles his own winnings with obvious discomfort and irritation. The slight smirk on the halfling's face seems to imply that he knows damn well what he's doing when he keeps putting nothing but silver in for his stake.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Eluvan, post: 1895453, member: 24812"] Dante is given a decent amount of room as he walks down the streets of the Lower Ward. Either he's doing a good job of fitting in, or most bloods know power when they see it, know a clueless when they see one, put two and two together, and decide that clueless spellslingers are the most dangerous kind and there's easier meat elsewhere. He has little difficulty finding somebody willing to give him directions; next to the beggars, touts are about the easiest sods to find in the Lower Ward. Of course, finding an [i]honest[/i] tout is a different matter entirely. After a few minutes, though, Dante thinks he's found a safe bet. Standing a few inches taller than anybody else around, the tall man in fine, delicate chain armour is easily noticeable from quite a distance as he makes eye contact with Dante, smiles pleasantly, and moves gracefully through the crowd to meet him. At first he seems Elven, and certainly his appearance has many characteristics in common with that race, including his delicate yet well-defined features and long, pointed ears, but on second glance he seems to be something else. The violet colour of his eyes and distinct green tinge to his skin point to origins that Dante cannot place. He falls into step with the telepath and strolls alongside him as he looks over with a wry smile and speaks. "I'm guessing you're new here, cutter? I've gotta give you some credit; you do a better job of hiding it than most." *** ((Isida, remember that you can't planeshift into Sigil. You can only get in via a portal. It's not a big deal, but it means you might want to edit your first post.)) Scanning the crowd, Vestra doesn't have to wait long before she finds what she's looking for. Walking aloof and purposeful across the market place is a mage, advertising his magical might the way only a spellslinger can (or would want to). Long, flowing robe with arcane runes - check. Staff with similar runes, glowing - check. Enough Ioun stones to play a game of marbles with circling his head in strange and interlocking orbits - check. Black cat with glowing eyes, perched on shoulder - check. She trails him at a reasonable distance for a minute or two before he leaves the street, entering a small building off to the side of the street. As she gets closer she can see a messily written wooden sign proclaiming the building to be [i]Therislanna's Emporium of Magical Sundries[/i]. Vestra isn't convinced this is entirely what she was looking for, but it does seem rather intriguing... *** Garant is left to read and drink in peace for now. The big story of the day is a supposed sighting of the Mercykiller's Wyrm flying over the Hive. One Hiver had come forward and declared that it ate her son. Three different groups of Xaositects and one group of Anarchists have each claimed sole responsibility for freeing it from the Tower. The Mercykillers deny that the Wyrm has gone missing, but refused to let a reporter enter the Tower to check and made threats upon his person when he pressed the issue. *** Davian sits down at the dice table, finding himself next to a Vrock on one side and a Halfling on the other. He recognises the Vrock - he's something of a regular at the [i]Bariaur[/i], though why isn't exactly clear. He finds it unlikely that the demon simply has a taste for gambling, though of course anything is possible... He has decent luck, and in the first few rounds makes five greens and three stingers. The name for the coins is rapidly becoming apparent, as the Vrock handles his own winnings with obvious discomfort and irritation. The slight smirk on the halfling's face seems to imply that he knows damn well what he's doing when he keeps putting nothing but silver in for his stake. [/QUOTE]
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